AN: A double update, since I really wanted to get this part of the story underway. I find myself struggling to convey the full scope of things; I've always adhered to the idea of character-driven focus first, then followed by plot-driven focus to drive the narrative. I prefer to zoom in on the characters as they deal with the ramifications of the story instead of zooming out and showing aspects from the entire conflict.

Of course, the best writers always manage to combine a character-driven narrative with the wonder, odds and hostility of the external environment of the plot and how they interact together. I have a large setting with lots of players, factions and characters all in one form or another in conflict with each other and they all need their screen time.

What I mean to say, is that I hope this struggle for focus doesn't show in the story itself, especially once the major fleet battles and war settings start.

-(++)-


"New enemy, new allies, new doctrine. Fellows, if we want to win this next war, we need to rethink a lot of the lessons learnt during the war. Make no mistake; we will be fast learners."

- Vice Admiral Jean Yamamoto Mawikizi

-(++)-


Aboard SSV Normandy

No sooner had the shuttle bay doors to the Normandy shut behind them than the stealth Frigate accelerated away from Menae's shadow, heading towards the Relay as fast as possible without giving away its position. The Reaper IFF would help, but the entire operation had been close. Almost too close.

Now that the frantic fighting was finally over, Garrus felt his exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. He sat down on the nearest supply crate and just closed his eyes for a couple of moments.

Palavan was on fire. His mother, father and sister were stuck down there, with no way out. As far as he knew, most of his friends were dead and his city of birth was gone. Just gone. Fedorian's death just added to that; it felt like a stab to the gut and the pain wouldn't go away.

He had never felt this tired before in his life.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to nobody in particular.

He heard the sound of metal creaking and the crate he sat on seemed to grow a couple of centimeters smaller.

With some effort, Garrus opened his eyes and glanced to his left. To his surprise, the Master Chief had sat down next him.

"Garrus," the behemoth of a man said.

"Chief," croaked Garrus. His voice came out sounding like he had gargled with a talon-full of sand.

Wordlessly, the Chief handed him what looked like a metal canteen of water.

Garrus gratefully took the flask and took a few swigs. It was water. Cold, sweet, precious water.

"I'm sorry about Palaven," the Spartan continued.

Garrus sighed. "So am I. The Reapers just hit us so damned fast…"

Chief didn't respond. Together, they watched as the other Spartan helped the rest of the squad unload the Pelican. The Sergeant Major – spirits blessed that man – and this big, muscled soldier Garrus couldn't recognize came together with Shepard and Victus for what looked like an after-mission report.

Liara was there too, together with Williams.

Garrus blinked when he saw them. Ashley? After Horizon, she was the last person Garrus had expected on this ship. Williams was quick to step away from the rest of the squad, while Liara introduced herself to Tatilia and the rest of the girls. The four Biotics had taken up a corner for themselves to discuss, holding their heads low and speaking in barely audible whispers and soft clicks

T'Soni wouldn't have much luck there. Cabals were a very private bunch and Tatilia wasn't exactly easy to work with. She was a very peculiar gal; if you weren't part of her unit, you might as well not exist. Victus was one of the very few non-Cabals out there who had earned their trust and respect.

He was proven right not a second later, when Tatilia shot one look at the asari, made a dismissive subvocal noise and turned back to her fellow turians.

Chief saw it, too. "What unit is that?" He asked.

"They're a Cabal team," Garrus replied. "Elite Biotic turians. Their entire method of performance is based around their dictum, 'the intangible is unstoppable'. They've been used in…irregular deployments throughout our history, so there's this big cultural bias against them."

"Irregular?" The Chief asked.

Garrus' mouth answered before his brain did. "Often used as assassins They're professionals, mostly. Experienced and deadly infiltrators/ They'll pull their weight."

"…mostly."

"Beg pardon?"

"You said mostly."

Garrus mentally reviewed his words, then remembered he had. Whoops; he hadn't meant for that to slip. "Ah, it's nothing really. Forget I said anything."

Chief's helmet shifted his way. "What were you doing on Menae?"

Garrus sighed. "Apparently, when word of the Reapers spread, the Hierarchy decided that I was their go-to guy," He grumbled in response. "Their expert on the Reaper threat, or the closest damn thing Palaven had to an expert."

Across the shuttle bay, Shepard turned their way. Her sharp, green eyes met Garrus' and lingered there for a moment. Then, she took Victus and headed into the elevator.

Stay put, don't move, I'll drag your ass to the medical bay soon.

Message received. But since when did Shepard wear the Spartan suit?

"But, right back at you, big guy," Garrus said. "Last I checked, you were slapping Justicars around on the Citadel and stealing their rides. The only things I heard after that were about the UNSC in general. Did you...is Cortana…?"

"Yes," said the Chief. "Not the way we planned it, but it worked. Cortana's recovering. The UEG is mobilizing for the war."

Relief washed over Garrus like a hot shower. He glanced up at the ceiling and closed his eyes again. Cortana was alive…the UNSC would be aiming their biggest guns straight at the Reapers…he could already feel the tension leaving his shoulder plates.

Maybe there was still a chance for Palaven.

"That's good to hear, Master Chief," he replied. "It's good to have you back."

Beside him, the Chief nodded. Then…"It's John."

"Hmm?"

"My name. It's John."

Garrus blinked a couple of times. It was starting to get very difficult to stay awake. "John…" he quietly repeated. "That's got a nice…ring to it."

Things got a bit blurry after that. Garrus was fairly sure his body had betrayed him at one point; things got real black and dark. He remembered standing in the elevator, slumped against something hard and solid. And when he next jerked awake, he found himself in a bed in a very familiar little room, surrounded by glass panes that restricted any sight.

That would be the medical bay, then.

His body hurt all over. The muscles in his arms were the worst. Who would have thought that spending so many days fighting with hardly any sleep, food or water would be bad for someone's health?

He felt confused for a couple of moments, but then the memories flooded his mind again. Leaving Menae, linking up with Shepard and evacuating the Primarch to the Normandy –

There was no time to be lying around in the medical bay. There were things he needed to take care of, matters to discuss with Shepard and Victus!

Garrus swung his legs off the bed, ignoring how his body cried out in protest. The next second, he heard a gentle voice go, "Garrus, you're awake!" and he halted, before turning to face its direction.

"Liara?"

The freckle-faced asari sat at a little desk in the corner. As Garrus rose to his feet, she deactivated her omni-tool and stood as well. "Just a moment, you shouldn't get up just yet. The AI performed a medical scan and it – "

"The AI?" Garrus interrupted her. "Who? EDI or Cortana?"

Liara blinked. "Does that matter?"

"It might. One is professional courtesy, while the other should make the Chief feel nervous…not to mention jealous."

It didn't look like Liara got it. "Oh, the UNSC one. It was remarkably adamant about your wellbeing."

"She, Liara. Cortana doesn't go around calling you an 'organic' either, does she? No, she doesn't, because that would be impolite."

Liara's expression turned into one of puzzlement. "Are you…lecturing me on how to address an Artificial Intelligence?"

Garrus chuckled. "Lecturing you? No, of course not. I'm admonishing you. There's a difference."

"Uh-huh," Liara replied, her voice oozing sarcasm. "I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, you should take better care of yourself. You were dehydrated and poorly nourished by the time we arrived on Menae. Even without the exhaustion, you wouldn't have lasted long like that."

Garrus gave a slightly tilting drawl. "Can't remember there being much supplies on Menae. The Reapers must have realized the only way to break the Hierarchy was to starve them out." He paused, letting his sardonic wit hang in the air, then dryly added, "We didn't have much supplies left, Liara."

Liara gave him a doe-eyed look. "I'm sorry, I…I didn't think about that. "

"I tried not to think about that either," Garrus dryly replied. "But – and correct me if I'm wrong – the Reapers didn't blow up the Normandy's ration supply by any chance, did they?"

"No, they did not. Should I…?"

Now that he knew food was within reach, Garrus couldn't hold back the ravenous hunger anymore. "Yes please. I'm starving. And could you do me a favor?"

"Sure?" Liara replied as she headed towards the medical bay's entrance.

"You've been in the net the past few months. Do me a solid and bring me up to speed real quick? I don't want to be the last one to find out, say, where our second Spartan came from."

Liara laughed nervously. "That's a long story."

-(++)-


At the heart of the War Room, the newly-minted Primarch Victus seemed to familiarize himself with practice ease. His dark eyes glided over the various consoles and machines inside of the circular room and he nodded once to himself, as if silently approving of what he saw.

He stepped towards the central console and began investigating its controls and holographic interface. His mandibles gave the slightest flare. "Commander, I'd like to thank you for allowing me access on your ship. I've heard about this vessel and its stealth capabilities before, but to experience it first-hand...that's a new one."

Commander Shepard pulled her shoulder up in a little shrug. "We've had a couple of close calls, but the Normandy is probably one of the best places to be right now."

"Perhaps. Since you'll be representing your people in the coming War Summit, I'll be honest with you, Commander. Unless the pressure is taken off Palaven, I won't be able to command any forces for the coming operations. We're holding out as best as we can, but the Reapers are slowly grinding us down. We can't hold out much longer."

Shepard kept her expression as neutral as possible. "Our alliance is still picking up steam, but Palaven is too important to lose. We can't take it back just like that; the Reapers would only respond with overwhelming force. We need to put just the right amount of pressure on them, provide just enough resistance to lock the Reapers in a losing battle."

Victus' deep, olive eyes were locked on her intently, as if scanning for something. If Shepard were any less skilled at reading people, she would have missed the skepticism and concern. "Just the right amount of pressure and just enough resistance is too vague, Commander."

On cue, Cortana's holographic avatar sprang up from the nearest console, hands cocked on her hips. "With sufficient calculations and planning, nothing is ever vague, Primarch."

Victus stared at Cortana and froze like she just put a Carnifex against his temple. "Ah. A UNSC Smart AI."

"Nice to meet you, Primarch," Cortana replied, smiling slightly. "It's good to finally put a face to the name. I've heard a lot about you."

"Have you?" Victus warily replied.

"I have. Of particular note was the war on Taetrus in 2185, Citadel Calendar. That section with the salarian spy ring and the separatists in particular was an excellent display of tactics and operations, Primarch."

"Do you really think so?" Victus asked, now more suspicious than skeptical.

Cortana nodded. "I do. The rest of the Hierarchy's military might take issue with the ethics of your tactics, but I believe UNSC leadership will be more than happy to discuss strategies with you."

Ah. Flattery. A classic method of social manipulation, one that not even turians were immune to.

"What kind of strategies would those be, then?"

"You know. The kind that will put Palaven back under turian control, Primarch. As I said, it's a matter of calculations and predictions, both of which I happen to excel at. To make a very long and complicated campaign very short, we are going to contest the Trebia system in such a precise, measured way that the Reapers will be unable to maintain superiority, without forcing them to bring in overwhelming reinforcements. Of course, that'll be just the beginning."

Jane quickly held up her hand to keep Cortana from overtaxing Victus' mental faculties. He'd been through hell on Menae and needed to rest first. "Let's shelve that until we get to the War Summit, shall we, Cortana?"

Cortana crossed her wrists behind her back and straightened herself. "Of course Commander."

"I am well aware of the UEG's widespread use of Artificial Intelligences," the Primarch said. "Cortana, was it? You're saying you can help relieve Palaven?"

"Yes Primarch. Though we're still rebuilding and reorganizing, the capacity of the UNSC to deploy and sustain troops outside its territory – its power projection – is still significant enough to put the pressure on the Reapers anywhere."

"Is that so?" Victus growled. "Your people can interfere on Palaven?"

"Within reason, definitely."

The Primarch let out a long breath. "Help me evacuate Palaven and I will give you everything you ask for."

Jane and Cortana exchanged a brief glance. Evacuating an entire world was a hell of a thing to pull even without hostile elements, let alone with the entire invasion force still in charge. With the Trebia system so heavily contested, they'd need to bring in overwhelming force or rely heavily on Forerunner shenanigans. And Jane was certain that they were fresh out of the latter.

"We'll bring it up at the War Summit as soon as we can," she promised. "I'm going to check up on my crew, if you don't mind. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, Primarch. There's always someone standing by."

Victus nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Commander. If you need anything from me, I'll be here."

"Are you sure? You're welcome to go anywhere you like," insisted Shepard. "The soldiers accompanying you've made themselves at home already."

A hint of concern touched Victus' features. "They did? Let me know if they fall out of line. Any Cabal unit is…challenging to deal with and the Eleventh creche is notorious in that regard. They respect my authority, but…"

Shepard stifled a groan. That was just what she needed; a squad of insubordinate Biotic turians. It was difficult enough to keep tabs on Three's whereabouts. She'd ask Garrus about this 'Cabal' thing later."We'll be fine. Thank you, Primarch. My thoughts are with Palaven."

Inclining his head. Victus replied, "And mine with Earth."

After that, the Commander returned to the CIC to check up on her personal messages. Cortana, in the meantime, put together an after-action report to send to Admiral Hackett and Sergeant Major Johnson organized a hot debrief with the squad. Said debrief would revolve around putting together all the details observed during the mission, ranging from enemy behavior and weaknesses to the mental wellbeing of the squad. Fighting the Reapers forces on foot could be nightmarish. It was important that everybody got their stress out of their systems early on, without bottling it up and having it put them at risk during later missions.

The Elite ground forces on Menae would solidify their hold on the bases. According to Usze 'Taham, the Elites – organized into a faction called the 'Swords of Sanghelios' – planned on using stealth and infiltration tactics to build up their forces on Menae without the Reapers noticing. Once their numbers were great enough, they'd start launching retaliatory strikes against the Reapers themselves.

How the Swords planned on doing that, Jane had no idea. She didn't even know how they got to Menae without the Reapers noticing. Their stealth technology must be beyond even the salarians'. But if the Chief's stories were anything to go by, they'd likely succeed.

Another factor for Cortana to take into account.

The UNSC, as it turned out, was already putting together a Fleet for the express purpose of harassing Reaper forces. They sent out messages to their allies within the Swords of Sanghelios, but the aliens remained as enigmatic and secretive as ever. They hadn't responded yet.

Since the Normandy's new turian allies hadn't bothered to show up for the debrief, Shepard decided to take the elevator and head down to meet them and see how grounded the Primarch's concerns were.

Snarls and shouts assaulted her ears when she stepped out of the elevator. Two of the Cabals were going at each other in vicious close-quarters combat. They circled each other, sharp and focused, constantly lashing out at each other. One struck a sudden blow and the other narrowly dodged it, ducking aside. She countered with a vicious hook to the abdomen, clipping the exposed plates of the other.

As they fought, the two girls kept up a steady stream of untranslatable clicks and snarls that sounded an awful lot like thrash talk.

James stood at the weapon bench, taking great care not to look at the fighting turians. Cortez, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. He was likely familiarizing himself with the Pelican gunship.

Probably a smart move.

Since the two Cabals only had eyes for each other, Shepard looked around for the other two turians. She only spotted one of them, the squad leader from the looks of it. She'd made a makeshift weapon bench and taken apart what looked like a MA5 rifle.

She didn't react when the Commander approached her, though she must have seen her from her peripheral vision.

"Making yourself at home, I see?" Shepard commented.

The turian gave a little grunt in response. She cracked open the weapon's magazine and the cartridges came rolling out. She didn't seem impressed by what she saw.

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest and leant back against a particularly big weapon crate. "You know, I never caught your name."

"Didn't give it."

Jane blinked. It was going to be one of those conversations.

But she stayed calm. These soldiers were on the verge of losing their homeworld to the Reapers and instead of fighting on the frontlines, they were stuck on a diplomatic vessel crewed by humans. That would ruin anyone's mood.

"You know, I get it," Shepard replied, looking over at the two sparring Cabals. "Having to leave Palaven in favor of politics? That's a very difficult call. But we're all in this together."

The turian looked up at her with an unreadable expression. "Are we?"

That sounded like a challenge if Jane had ever heard one. "You know, I wasn't sure when we took out that second Brute, but the third and fourth really hammered it home." Shepard met the Cabal's glare head-on, not afraid of what she might find. "I sure hope so. 'Cause when we go out there again and shit goes down, I want to know I can trust my team. Anything else has no room on this ship."

"We're not your team," replied the turian. "We'll fight for you, but outside the Cabals, there's no trust and nobody to depend on. Nothing's gonna change that."

Shepard resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. As far as she knew, not even the Spartans took it this far. "You're not the last to think that way, but you're sure as hell not the first either, even on this ship. I expect you and your unit to behave around the others. We clear on that?"

"We won't start anything," the turian replied, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

What she left unsaid was that they'd sure as hell finish whatever the other guy started. In a way, Jane could understand – and even respect – that way of thinking. It just had no place aboard her ship.

But there wasn't anything she could do about that now. Turians experienced and handled stress in a completely different way from humans and these gals had been fighting nonstop for days. With soldiers like them; actions spoke louder than words. Luckily, Shepard knew just the guy for that.

That evening, when all the important matters had been attended to, Shepard finally returned to her quarters to grab a quick shower. She enjoyed the hot water for a full fifteen minutes, then changed into her fatigues, a shirt and her N7 hoodie.

Next, she ran a quick maintenance check on her new armor. It had served her perfectly on Menae. Nothing short of a direct hit with a heavy weapon could even put a dent in its plating, and the dark energy miasma Cortana'd fashioned had proven to be incredibly resilient as well.

But, unlike the Spartans, she couldn't imagine living in the suit. Personal contact with her squad was just too important for her; the suit would only get in the way.

Once she was satisfied with the COPPERHEAD'S status, she put it on standby mode and activated its security system.

Then, she went to visit Garrus in the lounge.

After hours, most of the crew had retreated to their personal quarters. Jane suspected that the sight of Palaven burning had been a huge shock to most of them. The most powerful navy in the galaxy and the Reapers were tearing it apart.

Hell, had she not known about the plan to kick the Reapers off Palaven, she would've locked herself in her quarters with a bottle of rum as well. As it was, she wouldn't mind some company.

As it turned out, said company was passed out on one of the couches.

Shepard simply rolled her eyes and started rummaging around in the liquor cabinet. None of the dextro liquor had been opened. Garrus probably had some extra sleep to catch up on. She felt tempted to just let him sleep it off.

She left the door unlocked and open as an invite to anyone who wanted to spend their evening with some alcohol, then slumped down in the nearest chair and booted up her omni-tool.

The latest news on the War Summit was promising. The military and political leaders of the turians, salarians and both humanities were guaranteed to be present. The message she'd asked one of her STG contacts to send to Tuchanka seemed to have come through. The hanar were willing to come and they'd bring the drell, too.

No word on the quarians. Had they fully cast their lot with the UEG? With so many empty worlds in territory so far away from the war, the Flotilla would be foolish not to.

But the last time she visited the Admirals, they were still dead set on taking back Rannoch. They wouldn't give in to that desperation now of all times, would they?

Jane supposed only time could tell.

As she swiped through her notes, Garrus shifted one arm and blinked his eyes open. "Shepard," he crooned. "Took you long enough."

"How long have you been lying there?" Shepard asked.

Garrus peered at the clock. "Uh…thirty minutes, apparently."

"You wanna catch up another time? I don't want to keep you up."

"Nah," Garrus said, dragging himself upright. "That's fine. Don't think I can sleep well anyway. Liara told me the craziest story. Something about an ancient, hateful super-AI, the UNSC operating from within their own graveyard and a Spec Ops Spartan who takes after Thane's occupation?"

"Yeah, that's all true," Shepard casually replied.

"You see, that's what I was afraid you'd say," Garrus said, his tone as casual and flippant as ever. "But what thell. Life would be boring if it threw a normal ball once every curve ball, right?"

"I got a feeling we haven't seen half of it," murmured Jane. She poured herself a glass and downed one go. "So what have you been up to the past few months?"

For the next few minutes, Garrus brought her up to speed about what the Hierarchy had him do as their 'expert advisor'. How he'd finally confided in his father and told him everything about the Reapers, from Saren to the Collector Base. How his father had not only believed him, but even stepped straight to Primarch Fedorian, demanding the Hierarchy start preparing.

Of course, this galaxy being what it was, the Hierarchy hadn't taken any steps to prepare, but at least they'd provided Garrus with his own Taskforce to start the preparations himself.

As they talked, Shepard felt herself unwind somewhat. Though she knew that things would never be the same again, this almost felt like the good old times.

Garrus paused when he heard voices in the hallway. He leant to the right to get a better view and then chuckled. "If it isn't the second-largest man on this ship. Come in, Vega. Grab a drink."

James walked into the lounge, wearing a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. Cortez followed behind him.

"Look at that Steve, it's the second-coolest alien we've seen this week," Vega shot back, before disappearing behind the bar. He emerged with two bottles, handed one to Cortez and then vaulted over Garrus' couch to land beside him. "Shepard. Do you mind if we join you?"

Shepard spread her arms, mimicking a certain asari with a flair for dramatics. "If I didn't want you here, I'd have tossed you out already."

"Cool, cool," Vega replied, completely nonplussed.

Garrus leant towards the pilot and offered him a hand. "Garrus Vakarian. Don't let Vega fool you; there's nobody cooler than I am."

Shepard choked on a laugh and Garrus shot her an annoyed look.

"I don't know Vakarian, you don't get much cooler literally riding an antimatter bomb through a naval battle into the heart of a super-Dreadnought, then surfing the explosion back towards your own ship," Vega proclaimed.

Scoffing, Garrus shot back, "You been listening to Johnson's bedtime stories, Lieutenant? We all know that the Chief is a walking, breathing tank of a man. That's why he doesn't count."

"A tank of a man?" Cortez said. "I've seen him in action and that comparison sucks…a tank's way less destructive." He shook his head, then reclined back in his chair. "And to think we've got two of those guys running around now."

Vega scoffed. "I don't know man. Chief's loco. Three's…off. It's like the guy isn't right in the head, you know?"

"You wouldn't be right if you've been through the same things he has, James," Shepard said, getting up to pour herself a shot of brandy. "The UNSC didn't just have to deal with aliens, you know? They've had an entire faction of separatists to deal with, just like the turians had. If you spent years fighting genocidal aliens and batshit terrorists, you might lose your marbles too."

Vega raised his hand in a placating manner. "No offense meant, Shepard."

"Hmm…I didn't know that," mused Garrus. "Guess the UNSC's more like the Hierarchy than we thought…although the rebels are hardly our biggest concern anymore."

"I wish everybody held that same opinion," sighed Shepard. "The asari are still playing coy."

"They are? How?"

Shepard took another swig and made a contemplative gesture."

"Yeah, one of their agents was stationed on Earth when the Reapers hit it," explained Vega. "She uh…she made it aboard with some other civilians who were rescued. When most of the crew was preoccupied, she snuck off to life support and tried to blow the whole ship up with a frag."

Garrus' mandibles parted. "Damnit," he hissed, subharmonics crackling through the comm. "Crazy witches. What happened?"

"Three introduced himself," replied Shepard.

"You wouldn't believe the mess that left behind," grumbled Vega. "I spent half an hour mopping the floor."

Chuckling, Garrus replied, "Well, then I owe that man a drink. He around anywhere?"

"He…he keeps to himself," Cortez said with a shrug. "He's not too fond of aliens."

"Well, neither was the Master Chief at first, but I still won him over with my incredible charm," said Garrus. "Being so handsome helps as well."

"Doubt Millennia is as sensitive to your pretty face as Cortana was," replied Shepard. "But hey, you're welcome to try."

"Maybe once I've fully wrapped my head around all this Forerunner stuff," Garrus said as he reached for the bottle of dextro-liquor.

"Seems simple enough to me," said Cortez. He shrugged. "We're here, the Reapers are there. Some Prothean and Forerunner stuff is here, and they're shooting over there."

A moment of silence followed as the rest of the crew tried to process what the pilot meant.

"Sure, let's keep it at that," said Shepard. She was about to start a new topic when she heard the solid 'thump' of army boots coming down on the steel floor and she looked up.

Moments later, Johnson barged into the room, followed closely by a ghastly-pale man who made Vega look like a volus.

Part athlete and part tank, John walked with a measured, quiet confidence. His unnaturally-blue eyes calmly scanned the contents of the room, before finally resting on Garrus. The corners of his lips rose in a ghost of a smile, though Shepard wondered if anyone else would pick up on that.

"Garrus," said Johnson. He stepped towards the turian, clasped his hand and hauled him back on his feet. "Damn good to see you in one piece."

"Sergeant Major. Should have known politics wouldn't keep you down," Garrus shot back.

This was the first time James and Steve had seen the Spartan without his suit on. Thankfully, despite all the legends and rumors surrounding the legendary unit, neither of the men stared for too long or made any remarks.

"Welcome to the party," said James. "Want a drink, Chief? Avery?"

"I'll take you up on that," Johnson replied. He took the bottle James handed him and poured two glasses. "Chief?"

John wordlessly shook his head.

That didn't seem to bother the Sergeant Major. He downed the first glass in one go, then sat down with the second one. "Hell of a thing we pulled off today. I've gotta say, the ship still feels empty. Any way we can get some more crew members?"

"Cortana's putting together a list of all the previous crew and their current whereabouts," Shepard replied. Her mind drifted to old friends, to Karin and Kelly and Adam…Cortana had insisted that they made it off the Citadel before the Reaper intelligence took it over, but…

Johnson made a grunting sound. "What's Cortana up to, anyway? Haven't heard from her in a while."

John was silent for a long moment, looking down at his hands as he thought about the question. "She's still assessing her functionality," he finally said. "Millennia fixed the damage, but it's…complicated. Cortana wants to be sure."

Well, the human mind was complicated. Even for an AI, treatment for an affliction didn't make it magically go away. Those things took time and effort.

"Cortana and I…" John hesitated. " The war's got her thinking. "She doesn't want to lose the chance to start a family, and she wants to stonewall the Reapers as soon as possible. We're...trying…to combine those two."

What followed was a short moment of silence wherein everybody tried to make sense of what the Spartan just told them. Vega and Cortez exchanged a confused glance, while Johnson merely raised his eyebrows and downed his glass in one go.

"Stonewalling the Reapers? The Normandy's not exactly an R&D platform," Shepard replied. "Not without Mordin and his lab, at least."

"It's a work in progress," John replied. "If…it works out, Cortana will likely shout it from the rooftops."

"I'll drink to that!" Johnson proclaimed, before pouring himself, Vega and Cortez another drink.

"Starting a family…" Vega muttered as he took his glass from the Sergeant Major. "How does an AI do that?"

Shepard was fairly certain she knew what John meant, and she was just happy that Cortana wanted to go there. "Seriously? That's what you took away from that?"

The resulting laughter was enough of a distraction for everyone to miss how relieved John looked. Sharing something so personal, even with people he trusted, had to be incredibly difficult for him. Especially compared to the initial days, back when he hadn't even dared to reveal Cortana's existence to the crew.

As the alcohol flowed, Johnson got into the mood. He laughed louder than all the others, and seemed genuinely amused at the tales Garrus and James told him. "It takes seventeen muscles to smile and forty-three to frown! That's why my face is so jacked!" He said in response to a question Shepard hadn't even heard.

The Commander excused herself for a moment and headed towards the medical bay. It looked like Liara had gone to bed early. She must not have felt like sitting down with a bunch of people she knew next to nothing about. Did the UNSC intimidate her so much? Or was it the lack of information she had on them? She'd worked so hard to keep up a tough front back on Illium, but with all the uncertainty and violence around her these days, she started to look more and more like the young, out-of-her-depth Maiden back on Therum.

Jane wasn't sure what to make of that. Javik kept to himself – no surprise there. He still needed time to make sense of everything around him. That left Three, Ashley…and Annah. The former were probably skulking around somewhere and Jane had a hunch she knew where to find the latter.

Without Karin, the medical bay didn't see much use. Nobody wanted to hang around there without a very good reason. So when Jane wandered on the crew deck and saw that the lights were on, Jane knew she was in the right place.

When the door slid open, the woman inside looked up, her emerald eyes large with surprise.

"Hey Annah," Shepard said, taking care to sound as friendly and casual as she could. Looking at Annah felt like staring into a mirror from a couple of years back. It was uncanny. "Got a moment?"

Annah blinked in surprise, then put down the datapad she'd been reading from.

"I wanted to know how you are holding up. You've been dropped into all these situations with barely any say in the matter. Things are crazy enough for us, and we've had years of training and experience to fall back on."

It took Annah a few moments to gather her thoughts. "I don't know," she started. "This has been the…the normal for me. I know that…I know things should be different, but…it has no meaning. Things just…are."

"Isn't that confusing?" Shepard asked, sitting down on a bed adjacent to Annah. "Having knowledge of things without any context?"

Annah shrugged. The shirt she wore was a couple of sizes too small, and she wasn't all that muscled to begin with. "Sometimes? Everything is confusing, so I guess nothing is? He told me it's not meant to make sense."

"That's one way of putting it," Shepard replied. "Does he teach you a lot?"

Annah shook her head. "He tries, but sometimes his mind doesn't work right, and he can't find the words either." She paused, then quickly added, "But he hates it when that happens, so we don't talk about that.

Jane frowned. That sounded serious. It didn't look like Annah realized just what that meant. Maybe that was for the better now. "So what do you do then?"

"I observe other people," Annah said. "And look at how they do."

How they do…Jane struggled not to smile. It reminded her of Grunt. "Well, I think you should be careful not to look at the wrong people."

"There are wrong people?" Annah asked, her voice alarmed.

Oh sweetie…"Look at being in a fight. There are good ways of fighting and wrong ways. The wrong ones can get you hurt, or killed. He taught you that, right?"

She nodded.

"Acting around other people is a bit like that. If you act the right way, people will like you. They'll get closer with you. If you act the wrong way, they might dislike you."

It was a really rudimentary way to explain it, but Shepard wasn't sure she could do it any other way. She took her time, trying to explain that not everybody knew how to act the right way with other people. That there were situations where the 'good" people suddenly didn't know what was right, while the 'wrong' people did.

It felt so utterly alien to put social behavior into words; these were things that came as naturally to her as breathing, thing she didn't even have to think about. Jane suddenly felt a whole new appreciation for people who didn't have an intuitive grasp of these concepts.

It didn't look like it was much use for Annah, either.

"Look," Shepard eventually said, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation at her own struggle. "Shit's hard. Why don't you come with me? Sit down with people you know and like, have some fun?"

"Fun?" Annah repeated.

Right. She hung out with Three all the time, 'fun' wasn't in her dictionary. "That's not something I can teach you, only show you," Jane said, offering her younger clone a hand. "Come on."

Annah stared at her hand like it would suddenly bite her.. She looked up at Shepard's face, her expression one of uncertainty and a complete lack of confidence.

Jane, for her part, simply looked as friendly and welcoming as she could.

After a long moment of hesitation, Annah took her hand.

-(++)-


Alan looked himself over in the mirror and felt his face for any leftover hair. The grooming and shaving set in the men's restroom was a godsend; he hadn't had an opportunity for proper self-care in a long time. The buzzcut would last him another month or two before he'd need to shave his head again.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, the Spartan slipped his helmet back on and exited the restroom.

It was the evening after they'd rescued the Primarch from Menae, and the crew had plenty of off-duty time to spend. They were hanging around the shuttle bay or playing card games in the mess hall. Strangely enough, when the Systems Alliance took control back over Normandy, they refitted the Port Observation suite into a lounge. A lounge.

The entire idea seemed like a waste to 003, but as far as he was aware, nobody shared that opinion. Even the tough-looking Sergeant Major and the Master Chief were completely fine with the concept, if their current presence was any indication.

They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Garrus was telling stories, the Master Chief was pouring drinks, Cortez and Vega were having a blast trying to make sense of it all. Williams, the prothean and the asari weren't there, but Annah was. She'd picked one of the corners to talk with Johnson.

Puzzlingly enough, the Master Chief wasn't wearing his armor. Surrounded by Citadel humans and an alien, yet he was unconcerned with any attempts on his life. He'd served aboard this ship for a couple of months, but was such a short window of time truly all he needed to lose his hyper-alert nature.

Alan didn't understand. He didn't understand at all.

At least Annah was mingling with other people. That was the best possible outcome. She looked…dare he say, better? More relaxed at the very least. Her hair was longer than that of Shepard and she wore it in tail, making it easier to distinguish the two women. But where was - ?

"Why don't you join them?" Someone asked.

Alan looked over his left shoulder, seeing Commander Shepard stepped out of the elevator, wearing her civilian clothes and carrying a crate with drinks. "Commander."

"Don't be so formal, Three," she replied. "We've been over this before. Just call me Shepard."

"Of course."

He expected Shepard to move on, but she lingered. "I think Annah would like it if you joined her. I think she likes Johnson, but he's not you. "

Of course she would like that. And…he would like that too. He was the only constant in her life and he honestly liked having her around…and that was dangerous. Annah needed stable, good people to take after.

"She's a distraction," he quietly replied. "I need to stay focused."

He didn't met Shepard's gaze. She looked at him like she didn't believe a word. "Hmm…you know, if the Master Chief feels comfortable enough to step outside of his armor, why don't you?"

"I'm not the Master Chief," replied Alan. It might be obvious to him, but the Commander likely had no idea what the difference was between the different Spartan generations. A Spartan-II like the Chief…and someone like him.

"But you're still human. At the end of the day, humans are social creatures. They need interaction, bonds and company," Shepard continued. "You've been with us for a couple of weeks. Might take much longer. Don't you at least want to show your face?"

The Spartan remained silent. He didn't disagree with the Commander's assessment, but he wasn't sure how much of what she said applied to him. The idea of sitting down in that lounge, surrounded by people, only made him feel anxious. "No particular hurry."

His response didn't seem to bother Shepard. She gave a casual half-shrug and said, "I suppose that's fair. You don't have any family waiting for you, back home?"

Home. Was this small talk, or genuine curiosity? "None left," he quietly replied.

Shepard looked away for a moment, her eyebrow furrowing. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. Empty words, though her voice actually sounded genuine. "The Covenant?"

Alan gave her a curt nod. What else was there to say?

"I've seen their still feels so unreal to me. I mean, I lost my family too, on Mindoir, but at least the planet's still there." She sounded thoughtful, but the Spartan couldn't help but feel like she was heading somewhere specific. "So where will you go, after the war's over?"

"To the next one," he replied.

That must not have been the answer she was hoping for. "Think there will be a next?"

"I think," Alan carefully replied, "there will always be another war."

Now she met his eyes. "You don't want a life beyond that? Retire from all the fighting and settle down somewhere?"

Retire from the UNSC. He had never considered the idea. When the Covenant came, they burned everything and everyone he ever knew. His parents, his sister…they were all gone. He should have burned with them. The life he lived now was just borrowed time.

"I wouldn't know what to do with myself," he admitted.

"You don't want to find out?"

Milennia had asked him the same thing. But what was the point of looking ahead if the future was so uncertain? "When the last Reaper burns, and I'm still alive, maybe," he replied.

"Yeah, I can relate," Shepard quietly said. "Oh, one more thing; you fought together with that turian Cabal squad down on Menae, right?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Chances are, we'll be seeing more action on Palaven itself. They'll be fighting alongside us. What's your take on them?"

Behind his visor, Alan raised an eyebrow. People didn't generally ask for his opinion on these matters. "They seemed capable. Their Biotics make them impossible to pin down with infantry weapons.'' He paused, struggling to recall how he had experienced them on the battlefield and on the Normandy itself. "Their attitude might be a problem in the future."

Shepard nodded. "If it comes down to it, do you think you can work with them again? Taking charge of their unit?"

Working with aliens again. Considering the strategies against the Reapers, that was only inevitable. But working within a unit required more than similar tactics; it required understanding and trust – deep, blind trust that you could put your life in the hands of your teammates without a moment of hesitation.

"That's asking a lot…" Alan admitted.

"But are you up for it?" Shepard urged, her emerald eyes boring into his.

Once, he would not have hesitated about it. But those days felt like an eternity ago. Now…he wasn't sure. But if this was what Shepard needed of him to fight the Reapers, he didn't have a choice in the matter. "Of course."

His response seemed to relieve her. "Good. Don't forget to take time off for yourself, Spartan. It's gonna be some time before the War Summit gets going. "

Which meant taking care of Class One: weapon and equipment maintenance, food, water, hygiene and rest. But…he'd done all of that, already.

What else was there to do?

…he might as well get ready to get closer to the Cabal unit, see if he couldn't establish some form of rapport with them. It was a professional courtesy and the least he could do to start working on Shepard's request.

He'd presume these turians functioned the same as ODST's. Boisterous, proud of their unit and their abilities. Wary of outsiders and quick to look down on anyone who was different. Words were meaningless to such soldiers. They only respected action. Prowess. Ability. Skill.

Alan frowned. His mind felt like a sieve. How was he supposed to do any of that outside of the battlefield?

-(++)-


Lambda Serpentis System/Section Zero

By the time the end of the first week of the Reaper War rolled over, the whole galaxy had been roughly shaken awake. Earth had fallen. Khar'shan had fallen. Palaven was under heavy pressure. A dozen colonies were under siege, or had already been destroyed.

Today, all political and military leaders of the races willing to form a united front against the Reapers had finally gathered in the Lambda Serpentis system. Perhaps ironically, the UEG's gateway into Citadel Space was the most secure location to stage the War Summit. Though the Reapers knew of its location, they hadn't returned for round two. If they did, the military presence there would have a whole list of contingency plans to fall back on, based on the size of the attackers. If the worst came to pass, the combined vessels would break off and regroup deeper in UNSC space, of which the Reapers had next to no navigational data available. The Cole Protocol had kept humanity alive throughout the Human-Covenant war and it would keep them safe during the Reaper War as well.

The last time the leaders had come together, they had done so aboard the UNSC's flagship in the system, the Pillar of Autumn II. This time, as a gesture of good faith, the UEG's leadership had agreed with the idea to have the Summit take place on a turian Dreadnought.

Within the Normandy's own War Room, the Master Chief watched as Jane and Victus went through the provides details of Delegations and attendees one more time. They would both be representing their respective people and needed to have a firm grasp of the type of leaders they'd be convening with, if only for anticipation's sake.

"What about the krogan?" Victus asked. "Do you think they'll even show up?"

"Absolutely," Shepard replied without hesitation. "We'll be dealing with Urdnot Wrex."

In the background, Garrus chuckled softly, which earned him a curious look from the Primarch."Wrex is an old friend of ours," he explained. "He helped us stop Saren."

At that, the Primarch seemed to relax. "Then is he reasonable?"

"About as reasonable as I am," Shepard said. She gave that another thought, then added, "Which varies a lot depending on the circumstances. But he's intelligent and has a long-term plan for the krogan that doesn't involve nuclear extinction. Wrex is loyal and trustworthy, Primarch. He'll be there."

"Shepard, don't forget that Wrex couldn't give a damn about Council business," Garrus interrupted. "He'll honor your request, no doubt about it, but who's to say he'll offer anything?"

"What do you mean?" Victus asked.

"Well, Wrex is old, and he is a krogan. He's bitter about the genophage. Why send krogan soldiers to help out the people who unleashed the genophage on him?"

To the Chief, that made a lot of sense. Had the Reapers not been such a threat to the UEG's way of life as well, HIGHCOM wouldn't have hesitated about leaving the Council to themselves. Why waste human lives saving aliens?

"I don't care what he's going to ask of us, as long as we get the krogan into the fight," the Primarch growled back.

Most krogan were willing to die in battle for the sake of fighting or credits. The Chief had heard stories about how different Urdnot Wrex was from the others; the one krogan who actually wanted his people to unite and rebuild instead of stupidly dying for some merc group. He'd been successful in that regard, too.

A person like Wrex wouldn't risk dying for something unless he truly believed in it – unless he knew it would benefit the future he was trying to create with his own two hands.

Everything pointed to one outcome: Urdnot Wrex would ask for a cure. The salarians wouldn't want to provide it. This Summi might just take a turn for the worse.

"Knowing Wrex, there's only one thing he could ask," Shepard said, lowering her voice.

The Primarch stared at her for a moment, then hissed, "Absolutely not. It's not even possible!"

Jane feigned surprise. "Not possible? That's weird. I thought a duplicate humanity or an ancient super-AI with a star for a heart weren't possible either."

"You know what I mean, Commander," the Primarch said, his voice exasperated. "It's not a matter of probability, but science. Even if the salarians were willing to help, researching and developing a cure would take months. Years."

"Or a group of smart, dedicated people with all the resources they need," Shepard countered. "Do you honestly think the UEG couldn't do it, with all their AI-supported medical research?"

If the UEG was even willing to see the krogan return to the galactic fold. More than a few of the brass saw the krogan as just another Brute scenario, and not without reason.

But were they really in a position to balk at the idea? The UEG's sphere of influence was about a hundred lightyears across. The Reapers could traverse about thirty lightyears per day, according to Cortana and supported by EDI. The Reaper armada didn't know where the UNSC's worlds were, but that didn't mean they couldn't find them. Though it had taken them centuries, the Council had found humanity as well.

So, the Master Chief decided to speak up. "Primarch. The UNSC is not capable of fielding the amount of shock troops the krogan can. Our focus is on space combat and precision strikes."

Victus placed both hands on the console and bowed his head. "We'll keep the possibility in mind. If that's what it takes, and the others agree…who am I to turn it down?"

"That's the perfect segue into the UEG's involvement," Shepard said, but not before quickly winking at the Chief behind Victus' back. "Let's take a look at their Delegation."

"Agreed. Chief of Naval Operations, Lord Hood," Victus read. "I heard about the Lord. He served during the Human-Covenant war for years, and is one of the main diplomatic envoys between the UEG and the former Covenant."

"I've seen his speech. The man knows how to please a crowd," Shepard remarked.

"Speech?"

"He held a public one right when we needed it the most. He basically declared war on the Reapers and promised solidarity and unity."

Victus nodded to himself. "Reason. At last. Then...the President could not make it? That is very unfortunate. The next is one General Victor Van Zandt. Hmmm…I do not know that name."

"Primarch, General Van Zandt is a Marine Corps officer," John provided. "He believed the only way to survive the Covenant was through diplomatic means. He was ignored, though history vindicated his beliefs."

"Don't see any problems with him," said Shepard. "The last one…a Captain Jilan al-Cygni, representing the Office of Naval Intelligence."

An ONI officer. The Chief couldn't help but think back to Lieutenant Haverson, who'd sacrificed his life to lure an entire Covenant armada into the range of a repair and refit station about to go supernova. Would Captain al-Cygni be cut from the same cloth?

"Ah yes, ONI. I've been told they are the UEG's equivalent of the STG, but with dashes of Cerberus," Victus said. "Your intelligence agency, Master Chief?"

The Master Chief wasn't sure how to respond to that, although he could definitely see the similarities. In the past, ONI had gotten away with activities that would have made Cerberus seem benign by comparison. According to Cortana, they had only gotten worse over the years.

His loyalty was to the UEG, yes, but considering the current circumstances, he had to think about protecting humanity as a whole. With the Reapers – and potentially worse – about to come kicking down the door, ONI's vision for humanity wasn't just outdated, but dangerous.

And he hadn't forgotten their attempt on Jane's life. "It's likely they'll push for human supremacy and veto anything that might prove dangerous to the UEG. For instance, sharing military secrets and hardware and curing the genophage."

Victus sighed. "Just what we needed. Governments stabbing each other in the back."

"I doubt that ONI would ignore Lord Hood's orders like that," Shepard said. "The UEG will be mobilizing for war. Not much ONI can do about that."

John was certain that the Office could cause the Council no end of trouble. It all depended on al-Cygni and whose agenda she'd follow.

"We'll see," Victus said in a low tone. "As for the Union…"

They continued on like that, going over what they might expect from every leader who'd be present for the War Summit from prominent turian Generals and Admirals all the way to hanar diplomats and volus bankers. There were a lot of species out there, some of them barely old or advanced enough to have left their own homeworlds. Some of them might even go beneath the Reapers' radar and survive to the next cycle, like the Yahg.

In the end, the number of races capable and willing to form a united front against the Reapers was distressingly low. The turians, salarians and both humanities were a given, along with the volus, what with them being a client race and all. Whether the krogan and hanar were willing to fight depended on the circumstances, with the drell being completely dependent on the hanar.

Nobody had heard anything from the elcor, vorcha or batarians. The quarians were a peculiar case; though their civilian vessels – engineers, scientists, workers and the like – were becoming an increasingly familiar sight in UEG space, their warships were nowhere to be seen. A concerning development, considering the recent activities of the geth in the Perseus Veil.

Then, Shepard suddenly looked down at her omni-tool and frowned. Something was wrong.

"Go ahead, EDI."

EDI's holographic avatar materialized above the war room. "Primarch Victus. You asked to be informed about the activities of your soldiers. Their squad leader was reported goading a member of the Normandy's crew to a fight. It did not seem friendly in nature."

"Damnit," the Primarch hissed. "I'm on my way. Commander?"

"EDI, who's she picking a fight with?" Shepard asked.

"That would be Spartan-003."

"Fuck," Shepard exclaimed. "Deactivate the elevator's security controls. We're coming. Garrus?"

"You kidding? I wouldn't want to miss that match for the world!"

The Master Chief joined them without asking. Turians were nasty fighters in general, with tough skin and razor-sharp talons. According to Garrus, the Cabals were somewhat infamous for their brutality even against fellow soldiers. Right now, they were still amped up on stress, anger and grief. Even a 'friendly' match with a non-turian could result in a bloodbath.

On the other hand, though 003 wasn't a Spartan-II, his skills were exceptional even by Spartan standards. Cortana had taken a quick peek at his medical data after the raid on Reach, and concluded that his augmentations were far more advanced than the previous program's bioaugmentation set. Safer and less invasive, but including a small handful of augmentations that she'd deemed "extremely dangerous" for his long-term health, though she'd refused to elaborate on that.

No less than a minute later, the elevator doors opened again, revealing an impromptu fighting ring created in-between the Pelican and Kodiaks and the armory. There were quite a few onlookers present. John could see the other three turian soldiers on one side and almost the entirety of the ground team on the other. Vega, Cortez, Williams, but also Avery and Annah.

Out of the four, only Annah looked concerned.

There was a lot of cheering and shouting from both sides as the two combatants closed in on each other. One was a tall, slender-looking turian female standing at the ready, her claws splayed. She had black plating and small, silver rings pierced through one mandible. That meant the other combatant, a young-looking human male, was Three, walking around without his suit for the first time.

John looked him over. Like every Spartan, Three was of an above-average height even without his armor, but he was smaller when compared to the Spartan-II's. Slimmer too;athletic and wiry, thinner than Lieutenant Vega. His smooth, albeit scarred skin was indicative of a young age. John didn't think he could be much older than early twenties. Might be younger than that.

The turian drew first blood, literally so. She lunged for the Spartan and lashd out with a sideways swipe, which Three easily blocked. Still, her talons sliced through his unprotected forearm, laying open a decent gash that immediately started bleeding profusely.

"Hah, soft-skinned even for a human," the turian laughed, shaking the scarlet drops off her hand. "Spirits, need me to tape my claws up already? I wouldn't mind the handicap."

Her squadmates produced a soft series of subvocal chirping sounds which John could only interpret as laughter. Three didn't rise to the taunt though; his face was an impassive mask of concentration as he sidestepped a series of follow-up blows, not even registering the wound. He struck a few light jabs, as if testing the Cabal's defenses.

She in turn managed to either block or deflect the blows, which she definitely wouldn't have if the Spartan had been going all out.

"Come on Spartan, kick her scaly ass!" Vega shouted.

The Master Chief silently held out his hand to Jane, gesturing for her and the Primarch to wait. She gave him a skeptical look, but didn't interfere, opting to watch as the turian went on the offensive again. Her movements were precise and graceful, but there was no way she could overcome Three's reaction ducked underneath her swipes and landed a swift kick on his opponent's right thigh.

She stumbled and quickly stepped out of striking range. Her mandibles parted in a little smirk, and she shifted tactics, leaping at the Spartan for what John could only presume was some sort of grappling move. Three saw it coming and used her momentum against her, stepping into her range and hurling her to the ground over his hips. At the last moment, he jerked her arm back and slammed his knee into her spine, shoving her forcefully against the ground and pinning her there.

At that angle, he could have ended the fight decisively by dislocating her shoulder, breaking her arm, or applying enough pressure to her neck to choke her out in seconds. But he didn't do any of those things and the Cabal, in an impressive feat of flexibility, managed to twist halfway around and gained enough leverage to whip back with her free arm, raking at Three's face with her talons,

The Spartan pulled his head back just in time and the claws missed his eye by a centimeter. He kept her pinned for several seconds, then suddenly released her, stepping back to give her some room.

"There goes round one," Garrus said. "Kept her pinned for the count of five. Took him longer than I expected though."

"He's holding back," John replied. "Even without the armor, a wrong move will maim or kill her. He's testing to see how far he can go."

"Ah." Garrus nodded in understanding. "He's testing the waters? Trying to see how much she can take before he scales up?"

"Exactly. Once he knows the optimal amount of force, he'll end the fight."

Round two started. Now that she knew she couldn't win this by strength alone, the Cabal squad leader shifted gears again and went for a more cautious approach. Her eyes burned with excitement as she threw a series of jabs at his face, then swept at his forearms when he deflected her blows. Hit-and-run techniques, trying to cause more bleeding and landing quick, painful strikes that would turn the flow of the fight to her favor. Her technique was impressive enough. Against anyone who wasn't a krogan or Spartan, it would have worked.

Three blocked a straight swipe, twisted it and locked the turian's arm underneath his armpit. He followed up with a quick jab to her mandibles and a knee to her stomach.

She faltered and snarled, pain making way for anger, but it seemed Three had finally zeroed in. He spun around, dropped to a crouch and pivoted, sweeping the turian's legs out from underneath her body. Before she could even begin to fall, the Spartan was up on his feet and seized her by the front of her head, after which he loudly slammed her against the ground.

Cortez and Williams winced. Shocked subvocalizations erupted from the other Cabals, crackling angrily in John's ear.

"Enough?" Three asked.

"Just when it's getting fun?" The Cabal replied, shakily climbing back to her feet. "Come on. That's all you've got?"

Turians. They were a hardy bunch, no doubt about that.

Three was on her in a heartbeat. He kicked her leg out from underneath her, struck an uppercut with his right hand and then pivoted to slam his elbow into her gut with enough force to knock her a good meter backwards

Growling, the turian attempted to go on the offensive one more time, but the Spartan shut her down hard. In the span of one second, he landed an atemi on her abdomen, spun underneath her outstretched arm to pin it against her neck and slammed her against the ground.

John cocked an eyebrow. That move could have KO'd a krogan.

Two of the Cabals leapt from the crates they'd been sitting on and squared off against Three, while the third merely watched them, seemingly amused at the antics of her comrades.

If their threatening postures bothered the Spartan, he didn't show it.'Three times," he commented. "Next time means brain damage. Who's going to lead the squad then?"

It took the squad leader a few moments to collect her bearings. She blinked a couple of times, then slowly rolled onto her side, cradling her neck. "Yeah, fine. I concede," she breathed out.

"Do you hear that, ladies?" Garrus called out to the other turians as he approached them. "She conceded. Now calm the hell down before the man decides brain damage is the answer, for all of you."

Within seconds, the tension seeped away. The Kabalim climbed back to her feet as Williams and Vega whooped at the victory. Johnson handed Three a towel to stem the bleeding, patting him on his back as he did. "Ain't nothing better than a good first impression son. Nice showing."

Perhaps it was just the rhetoric of "them versus us" of a matchup between a human and an alien, but John wanted to think that the rest of the crew was starting to appreciate having Three on the team.

"First time outside the armor and a couple of turians choose violence," Shepard commented. "Guess not everyone has the Chief's luck. What happened?"

The younger Spartan frowned. "It was the only way to ease the tension. I informed them we'd be working together in the field, but they…protested."

Shepard chuckled to herself. "The only way to ease tension, yeah? You can ask Garrus about the other tactic. I take it she challenged you, not the other way around?"

"Yes."

"Without your armor?"

"She was…insistent."

The Master Chief shot a look at the Cabal squad. Turians handled stress in a strange manner. They didn't even look that bothered to him. In fact, the squad leader seemed more at ease now than the last time he saw her. Primarch Victus, on the other hand, was aghast.

"Tatilia, are you insane?" He hissed at the Kabalim. "Picking a fight with alien soldiers is one thing, but a UNSC Spartan? What were you thinking!"

Tatilia lazily wiped the remaining blood from her talons. "Shepard attached him to our unit, so this thing was bound to happen. It's the only way to see if he's up for the task, Primarch."

Victus crossed his arms and glanced at the unarmored Spartan. "And. Is he?"

"We'll see."

With things calming down again, the Normandy's crew took care of the final preparations for the War Summit. Joker steered the ship towards the Hierarchy's Dreadnought, the Indomitable. The Master Chief had opted to keep his new suit on, while Shepard had donned her dress blues for the occasion. Together with the Primarch and his Cabal bodyguards, they boarded the Kodiak shuttle, which Cortez took to the docking bay.

The ride was…not exactly relaxing.

The Master Chief knew for a fact that Sparatus would not stab them in the back, but he could not help but feel like he was heading into hostile territory. He reminded himself that the Hierarchy and the UEG were on good terms, and that turning the War Summit into an elaborate trap in the middle of the latter's staging ground would be suicidally idiotic. Nevertheless, it was the most dangerous possible outcome, and thus it needed to be kept in mind.

Once aboard the ship, they were greeted by a large group of armed turians. They didn't wear helmets and carried themselves with an air of respect and amiableness, but the Chief kept an eye on them nonetheless. Now more than ever did he miss Cortana's presence, but Cortana was too preoccupied with other matters. He needed to defer to Shepard's preternatural social abilities instead.

The guards guided them through a large hallway towards another security checkpoint. There, they were scanned and had their identities checked, although it didn't look like the turians suspected them of anything with Primarch Victus attached to their group.

Formalities, the Chief reminded himself. The UEG had put their alien allies through the exact same procedures.

Their scans couldn't penetrate the BRAHMASTRA's enigmatic outer layers, so the guards had absolutely no way of knowing who was inside the suit.

But the Forerunner-augmented armor must have resembled the old Mark VI superficially enough, since they accepted John's electronic verification without demanding that he showed them his face. It was very diplomatic of them.

Before long, Primarch Victus and the Cabals were ushered through different checkpoint by the security, obviously not meant for the human Delegation,

"I'll see you at the Summit, Shepard," Victus said.

Shepard didn't seem concerned,.

They passed through their own security checkpoint into an atrium of sorts; a large, open area with thick windows overlooking the decks below. It seemed to be a waiting room of sorts, completely cleared out to make space for the gathered individuals.

John narrowed his eyes. That would be the gathered individual; it was a krogan completely clad in bulky red armor surrounded by a group of armed turian guards. They looked nervous and on edge, with good reason. This particular krogan stood the better part of seven feet tall and looked like he could have weighed at least two-hundred kilos. He had two mass accelerator shotguns attached to strongpoints on his armor and, if the extensive facial scarring was any indicator, likely had extensive combat experience.

If theMaster Chief knew his Normandy history, this would be…

"Wrex!" Shepard exclaimed.

The krogan turned his massive head to the Commander and grinned. "Shepard?" He barked in surprise, before breaking into a brisk stride that saw the turians scampering out of his way. "Hah, Shepuurd!"

Their handshake lasted perhaps a millisecond before Wrex simply grabbed Shepard's upper arm and wildly shook it, all but dragging her into an impromptu hug. "Shepard! I heard the Council screwed you over!" He exclaimed with much enthusiasm.

"It's complicated,"Shepard replied, grinning broadly. "Wrex, it's been too damned long. You're here representing the krogan on your own?"

"You bet your ass I do," Wrex rumbled, gesturing at himself with a thick thumb. "The Council must have been real desperate to come crawling back to Tuchanka."

"Desperate's too small a word to describe what the Council's like right now," Shepard replied, before turning back towards the Chief. "Wrex, I want you meet someone. This is the Master Chief."

Wrex looked him over, his scarlet eyes running up and down his body. Then, he began approaching. "You're the Master Chief? Shepard told me about you," he growled.

John watched the krogan approach, recalling what he had heard about him. Wrex was old with a capital O, close to a millennium. To Garrus, he was an old, grumpy friend. To Tali, he was a crazy, grumpy grandfather-figure. Shepard had said that she trusted him with her life.

But his experience with krogan was decidedly negative. He'd proceed with caution. "Nothing bad, I hope?" He asked, holding his ground as the ancient krogan walked right up to his face.

"Something about you being the most efficient killing machine she's ever encountered," Wrex replied. He didn't sound hostile, but he didn't sound particularly thrilled either. "Those are some big shoes to fill."

Behind his visor, John's eyes darted to Shepard. She stood there with her arms crossed and a big smile on her face, looking totally relaxed, like she was watching a couple of children.

"I wouldn't say that," the Chief replied.

Wrex grunted. "Something about crashing a Collector ship into a planet?"

"I had help."

"Stonewalling a batarian invasion force?"

"Just doing what was needed."

The krogan cocked his head sideways, staring at the Chief for a moment. "Keeping the expectations low? Probably smart. Your unit's getting enough attention as it is."

"Jealous, Wrex?" Shepard asked.

The krogan snorted. "'Course not. I am the most efficient killing machine you've ever encountered. That's why I'm the Delegation."

"Good to hear," Shepard said, though her smile faded. "We should probably head inside."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm dying to get the politics started," Wrex grumbled back. John would assume he was being sarcastic.

Together, the three of them entered the War Summit.

As soon as the Chief walked inside the soft buzz of conversation assaulted his ears. The hall selected for the War Summit reminded the Chief a lot of the debriefing chambers in UEG facilities. It was a wide, rectangular chamber, with a large array of steel tables arranged in a U form dominating the center.

Seated at these tables were the most powerful and influential representatives of galactic civilization. Shepard had been right on the money with most, if not all of them. Information rolled across John's HUD as he assessed the gathered officials. Generals, Admirals, famous leaders and cutthroat politicians, all of them protected by soldiers kitted out in the most advanced gear possible. He didn't see any asari here, nor the elcor, quarians or batarians, but the Delegations who did show up had taken the threat seriously.

Victus and his group had already joined the rest of the turian Delegation, while Shepard was quick to join Admiral Hackett and another man the Chief didn't recognize. He did, however, recognize the people representing the UEG. He saw General van Zandt and Captain al-Cygni, though it was the third person who caught his full attention. He instantly recognized the man's build, his white officer dress uniform, and his weary, but determined old face.

Lord Admiral Hood. He was guarded by two soldiers wearing what looked like a gunmetal gray variation of the MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armor. His HUD identified it as a variation of 'MJOLNIR [GEN2]', which looked lighter and sleeker than the old Mark VI. Were these Spartans? If so, why couldn't his new suit identify them?

John looked back at Shepard. She caught his gaze, shot one look at Lord Hood, then nodded. It wasn't to give him permission; they both knew he wouldn't need that. It was to let him know she'd be alright without him there. That it was alright for him to stand with his people.

He was glad she understood.

Lord Hood was the last to see him approach. The two MJOLNIR-clad soldiers noticed him and immediately stiffened, before saluting him.

"Lord Hood?" One of them said.

The Admiral looked up from his datapad with a light scowl, looked up and found himself staring straight at the Master Chief. His scowl was gone in an instant, replaced by a bright smile.

"Admiral Hood, sir," John said, snapping off a salute.

"At ease, Master Chief," Lord Hood replied as he returned the salute. "It's good to see you again son. I'd heard about your survival, but to actually see it with my own eyes is something else entirely."

There were a dozen questions John could have asked, so many situations he wanted to hear about. In the end, he settled on asking, "What is the situation on Earth?"

Lord Hood glanced at the other Delegations for a moment. Everybody was involved in their own conversations, though more than a few were staring at the Chief. "We're rebuilding, Master Chief. Implementing the lessons learnt during the war. Progress is steady, but the losses we've suffered make life difficult for everyone. The Trade Treaties with the Council races are helping a lot, but…" His voice trailed off.

"I understand sir," the Chief replied. "And the war with the Reapers?"

Lord Hood was about to reply, but then Councilor Sparatus rose from his seat and the murmurs began to die down. A light flashed on his table, probably activated by an unseen moderator to recognize his motion.

"We're about to find out," Hood quietly said.

"Everybody is accounted for," Sparatus said. "I will not mince words. We – all of us, including our very way of living – are under attack. We were warned, but we refused to listen. The Reapers are here, and they are the greatest threat we have ever seen." He paused to let his words sink in. "The home planets of two civilizations have fallen already and a third is under siege as we speak. The time for unity is now."

The turian sat back down. A moment later, Valern spoke up. "The purpose of this War Summit is to unite our species and find a new strategy to resist the Reapers. We, all of us, stand alone before the coming darkness. We have all agreed to a full military alliance. It is time to discuss the full nature of this alliance and decide on the next course of action as we take the war to the Reapers."

A holographic display appeared in the center of each table.

"The Salarian Union proposes full cooperation on defense and security related issues to solve problems. This means the sharing of intelligence and electronic warfare measures, for instance."

"The UEG relies extensively on the usage of Artificial Intelligences in our everyday life," Captain al-Cygni said. "We know AI's are banned in Citadel Space and that the Council has agreed to a policy of toleration. But we can't let the stigma on AI's hamstring us."

"Agreed," Sparatus said instantly. "If your people need AI's to fully combat the Reapers, I see no issue with their presence in Council Space."

More than a few officials looked uncomfortable at that thought. John assumed that everybody was thinking about the same equation; did they want Reaper dominance in electronic warfare, or UEG? There was only one choice in the matter, really. UEG and Reaper AI systems were both light-years ahead of what the rest of the galaxy had to offer, with the possible exception of the geth. Either they trusted the UEG, or they would trust their luck defending against the Reapers on their own.

It was silent for a good minute, but nobody protested.

"If nobody disagrees with the notion, I propose it be added," Valern said. He glanced at the Dalatrass to his side, but she remained silent. "Good."

Other suggestions soon followed. The creation of advanced military-industrial complexes, research treaties, economic support from the Volus, material and logistic support from the turians. It astounded the Master Chief how willing every race was to contribute. Lord Hood was only happy to further open up humanity's territory to lend aid to refugees and wounded. Everybody put in their two cents when it came to hammering out these propositions and treaties, even the UEG.

Everybody except for Urdnot Wrex. His silent unwillingness to contribute reached its apex when the topic of full military support was brought up, and each table attempted to provide solid numbers on what they could contribute to the war effort.

"Urdnot Wrex, this is the sixth time you proved unwilling to contribute anything to the Summit," an irritated Sparatus pointed out. "Why are you here, then?"

"I'm starting to wonder the same thing," Wrex growled. "Everyone's very eager to just forget about the past."

"If the krogan is unwilling to contribute, we can have him removed," the salarian Dalatrass said with a dismissive gesture.

"The krogan has a name!" Wrex bellowed. "Urdnot Wrex! And we are not some junkyard varren you unleash whenever there's trouble!"

More than a few of the guards shifted and stirred in response to Wrex' outburst, no doubt putting themselves in a better position to open fire should that prove necessary.

"Calm yourself Wrex," Valern urged. "This concerns your people's survival as well!"

"Does it now?'' Wrex growled back. "That's the first time anyone in the galaxy gives a fuck about the krogan. You've been watching us crawl towards extinction for centuries, but now all of a sudden our survival matters, because we're useful?" He leapt up from his seat and slammed a plated fist against the table. "I don't think so!"

"Don't think you can survive the Reapers on your own, Wrex," Hackett said. "You need us as much as we need you. "

"Then crawl to the asari. Or better yet, the UNSC. They seem to have everything figured out," Wrex continued. "Why should the krogan care if some salarians or turians go extinct after what you've done to us?"

Primarch Victus stood from his chair. "Trying to draw this out will get you nowhere, Wrex," he calmly replied, though his subvocals grinded with irritation. "I have no time for it. Just tell us: what will it take to get the krogan into the fight?"

"I'll tell you what I need," Wrex said, his voice dropping even lower than before. He leant forwards on his table and ran his gaze across the room, as if making sure he had everybody's attention. "A cure for the Genophage."

Wrex couldn't have achieved more drama if he'd dropped a live grenade in the room. Admiral Hackett put his head in his hands even as the Dalatrass shouted her disbelief. Sparatus' mandibles parted in disbelief and the Generals behind him began arguing. Within seconds, the room had descended into chaos once more as everybody started bickering, throwing arguments for and against a possible cure back and forth. Wrex, meanwhile, sat back down and watched it unfold with a satisfied grin.

"I don't think so," Captain al-Cygni muttered to herself.

"Why not?" General van Zandt asked.

"The krogan are just like the Brutes. We can't deal with another Rebellions-like crisis."

"We'll see," Hood quietly replied.

"Enough!" Councilor Sparatus then yelled. "Enough. If we start fighting amongst ourselves over every controversial opinion, we might as well roll over for the Reapers."

"This is not controversial, this is madness!" The dalatrass shouted back.

Valern held out his hand to her in a calming gesture, then said, "Even if we wanted to cure the genophage, it would take far too long. We need the krogan now, Wrex."

"This one wonders if a cure is even possible," the hanar representative spoke, glowing faintly as it did.

"Why are you so opposed to the idea, Dalatrass?" Shepard asked. "The krogan have paid for their past many times over. The Genophage has gone on for long enough."

"One thousand, four hundred and seventy-six years, if you're keeping track," Wrex snarled. .

"During the final months of the Human-Covenant War, even the UNSC was willing to ally themselves with former Covenant species to end the war!" Shepard then continued, gesturing towards the UEG's table. "Lord Hood, why was that?"

Lord Hood crossed his arms over his chest. "Because every alternative is preferable to extinction," he replied. "I won't cast judgment or take sides in the morality of the Genophage. That is not my place. But I ask everybody to consider this. All of your concerns, all of your arguments against curing it…how do they weigh against the threat of total extinction?"

It was silent for a couple of seconds as everybody thought about that. Except, John guessed, the salarians. It seemed they had made up their minds.

"The Illuminated Primacy wishes to know how long it would take to create such a cure," the hanar said. "Does this cure constitute an argument if the time span is too great?"

"It does not," Sparatus said, though he sounded more like he conceded defeat rather than arguing against the cure. "Unless...I am looking at my salarian colleague?"

"Don't bother, I've got the answer," Wrex said with eagerness. "And it's on Sur'Kesh!"

"Lies!" The Dalatrass shouted back. "If you are intent on staging some sort of military intervention on a sovereign salarian colony, you will be sorely disappointed!"

At that, Wrex merely chuckled. "Yeah? Well, you lying salariam scum, I've got evidence. You see, 'couple of months back, this salarian scientist called Maelon grew a conscience. He came to Tuchanka to test a cure on our females."

Before anyone from the salarian Delegation could respond, Shepard said, "That's true. His methods were barbaric. I can call on a salarian witness if you don't believe me either, Dalatrass."

"But what you don't know, is that other females survived," Wrex impatiently said. "So the salarians sent in a team to clean it all up, and take the females prisoner."

"You say you have evidence for this?" Sparatus asked, looking back and forth between Wrex and the salarian Delegation.

"Any evidence he shows will undoubtedly be fabricated!" The Dalatrass shot back.

"If so, one of our AI's can easily find out," Lord Hood spoke up.

"We will not – "

"Don't insult me with your excuses!" Wrex bellowed, and more than one rifle had its safety flicked off as a result. "These are my people! They're immune to the Genophage and I'm going to get them back, with or without your permission!"

All eyes were now on the salarian Delegation. One of the present STG troops bowed towards the Dalatrass and whispered something at her.

"That will not be necessary, Wrex," Victus said. "If we return these females to you, will you provide krogan support for the war?"

That question turned out to be…controversial.

"The Genophage was enacted for a reason in the first place!" The man next to Hackett, one Donnel Udina, exclaimed. "The krogan hordes nearly destroyed the original Council species!"

"The Reapers will do ten times worse to all of us if they win!" Victus shot back, angry.

"Who is to say we need the krogan in the first place?'' Captain al-Cygni muttered to Lord Hood. "The Reapers have shown no artillery, no armored spearheads, no coordination between armed forces. This battle is won in space, not on the ground."

"The UNSC isn't exactly in a position to deliver on both fronts, Captain," General van Zandt replied. "Maybe we can beat the Reapers on the ground without the krogan. But what if we can't, and we only find out too late? Are we willing to risk that?"

"The krogan have been declining for a thousand years now," Lord Hood quietly replied. "Any species deserves a chance at existing. If the krogan grow into a second Rebellion…we'll do what needs to be done."

The Master Chief understood. If somehow, if they survived the war, the krogan escalated things into another war, ONI and the UNSC would not hesitate to drive them to utter extinction.

"Are we willing to risk another war with the krogan…after the Reapers?" The volus representative asked.

"It all depends on the leader," Shepard said, raising her voice so that the others could hear her as well. "I trust Wrex to fight for peace, not another war. Since the alternative is death by Reaper, I say we put this to the vote right now. What will it be?" That last part sounded all too much like a challenge to the entire room and John couldn't help but approve. That was the part he liked so much about Shepard; her complete inability to give a damn.

More murmurs. The dalatrass rubbed the bridge of her nasal slots between her long fingers, then relented, "The females are being kept at one of our STG bases on Sur'Kesh, I have just been informed. If you are patient, we will deliver her – "

"So you can arrange an 'accident'? Yeah, I don't think so," Wrex snarled. "I don't trust you salarians one bit. I want to oversee this thing personally, and from aboard a ship I can trust, or this deal is off!"

John could see where this was heading.

"Would you trust the SSV-Normandy for this, Wrex?" Victus asked. "As a Spectre, Shepard has the authority to oversee this exchange."

"Finally, a turian making sense," Wrex said, shooting a quick glance at the Primarch. "I agree alright. No use standing around. Let's get these females to Tuchanka. Come on Shepard!"

With that, Wrex spun on his heels and marched towards the exit, completely unconcerned with the amount of people he'd insult in the process. All eyes were on him and Shepard now.

"Commander Shepard, would you be willing to oversee the exchange on Sur'Kesh?" Victus then asked her, casting a meaningful look at both Valern and Hackett.

Jane all but leapt from her seat. "Of course, Primarch. Considering the urgency of the situation, I'll set course towards Sur'Kesh right away."

"You will have no objections from me," Victus replied. "Admiral Hackett?"

"Good luck, Commander," Hackett merely said. "We'll hold the line. You just focus on getting the krogan into this fight."

The Master Chief watched Jane leave, feeling a strange urge to break off from the War Summit and join her.

But why? If he understood correctly, this would be a simple VIP extraction from a friendly military base. The chances of the STG setting a trap or an ambush were close to zero. Even then, with her own set of MJOLNIR and a krogan Battlemaster fighting along her side, the STG wouldn't be able to harm her.

So why did he feel like he was missing out? The upcoming evacuation of Palaven would be an enormous undertaking, easily the largest military operation the Council races had seen in years. Extracting a krogan female was nothing compared to that.

John thought back to that fateful conversation in Shepard's quarters, with Cortana. Back then, he had no way of confirming anything for himself. Barring the occasional fling and fraternization, no Spartan had ever committed to a successful relationship.

This was different from watching his fellow soldiers depart on a mission. This felt like watching someone leave and feeling…incomplete. Without Cortana, without Jane, he felt like he was standing in the wrong place.

The Master Chief shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He'd ask Cortana about it later. For now, it sounded like the next order of business was the evacuation of possibly millions of civilians.

The UNSC was about to get very busy.

-(++)-


"Men, I'm not going to waste your time. The UNSC's getting involved in the Reaper War. And we're not doing that out of the goodness of our heart, or because we wanna cozy up to some poor, dumb alien government. That's a bunch of crap. We're going to war because we are the best goddamn fighters this galaxy has to offer, and these Reaper bastards made the pis-poor mistake of threatening our peace, after everything we've been through, and everything we've sacrificed!

You men and women have been through the hardest, most shit-filled grinder imaginable and you came out swinging and laughing! Every single one of you here is a hardcore, cold-blooded killer who couldn't give two shits about the odds! The enemy's named the Reapers 'cause these Council pansies never saw us in battle! We're the fucking Reapers, and we'll make sure the enemy remembers that, right before we rip them apart! I want soldiers like the Corporal on Earth who, when coming face-to-face with an Elite, didn't bother ducking for cover and instead bit the bastard's mandibles off! That's what a soldier looks like!

Now, I know some of you are worried. We'll be fighting on planet's nobody has ever seen before, killing enemies who think nothing of using your buddies' reanimated corpses against you. So I say man up! I know every one of you is capable of doing your duty when your time comes. And when it does, we'll charge the enemy, win ground, and kill those bastards all the way back to orbit, where our fleet'll be waiting to pound them in the ass! We'll take these cybernetic shit-stains they call their troops and grease our war machine with them by the truckloads!

Some of us are going to die. That's a given. You've got a right to be scared. When the bullets start flying, any man who says he's not, is a goddamn liar. So look at your buddies, look at your team, and realize that the sooner we blow the absolute living hell out of the enemy, the sooner we get to go home.

We've got the best gear, the best training and the best goddamn men and women possible! Now, you glorious sons of bitches, we're awaiting the final word. When it comes, you'll know what to do. You'll know it. And I'll be proud to lead you. That's all."

- Lieutenant General Callum Dumas, 11th Marine Expeditionary Force