The information from Tali'Zorah "sealed the deal" for the Council. Not only had Shepard proven a Spectre had gone bad, he'd taken out a localized terrorist cell,as C-Sec would later define the affair. Whatever the nomenclature, Fist's position had been well entrenched, and a total of fifty slaves had been released from various points on the Citadel. A good achievement, even by the highest standards.

Those were good times. C-Sec respected him for his dedication, achieving success despite debilitating Alliance respected him, not just for his past accomplishments, but for his performance in front of the ostensibly best Law agencies in the galaxy. Respect, such a flexible commodity, was his.

Unfortunately, the newly heightened profile was exactly what Shepard had not wanted. Fame can be considered to be the flip side of notoriety, depending on who assigns the label. While it is easier to achieve public works in such a state, vanishing is exponentially more difficult – the precise reason Shepard hadn't wanted such fame.

For most of his career, Shepard had hunted for a great many things:information, people and such. I know for a fact that he'd once wished for better access to the Council regions, the better to do his work.

The funny thing about wishes — sometimes you receive that for which you ask.

Notes from Dr. Arnold Pavenmeyer's logs

~Project Ragnarök Files


Anderson looked up at his door when he heard its gentle chime. He keyed the access code, into the monitor on his desk, and the door opened to reveal Lieutenant Alenko standing just outside. The younger man was short, but carried himself well, a testament to both his training and Shepard's apparent confidence in him. Evidence of his young protégé's capabilities, even by second-hand demonstration, always brought a smile to his face. Alenko was a good man, a bit shy at times, but good.

"Sir, may I ask you a few questions?" Alenko shifted his feet nervously. Apparently, he'd been standing outside the door for a few minutes; the schedule should have placed him on the Normandy, helping the new shuttle get settled. Ordinarily, cargo was of no concern to the combat squads, but Alenko's technological expertise had made him the perfect choice.

"Of course, Lieutenant," he rose to his feet, checking the chronometer on the wall. "If you don't mind, we can talk on the way to the Presidium. I have a meeting in forty minutes."

"Um, sir, it's about Shepard. Commander Shepard, I mean – " Alenko blinked as Anderson sat down once more. "Nothing wrong, just … complicated."

Anderson nodded. "Mister Alenko, when Shepard is involved, I can almost guarantee things will get complicated. Always does; runs in his family."

The two stared at each other for a moment, old brown orbs into young ones the color of burnt umber. Alenko broke the stalemate. "Why is Shepard so quiet? I've worked with him for over three weeks now, and he – goes out of his way to avoid people; I can only corner him in the gym, and even that's hard. Why?"

Anderson exhaled quietly, looking down at his desk. "Shepard was … shy, when he was a boy. Quiet, hard-working, but … reluctant to socialize. He's grown into a fine man, almost a copy of his father."

"You knew his father, sir?" Alenko cocked his head to one side. "That's the second time you've mentioned his family."

The older man awarded a point to himself; it was a subtle art, offering bits of information to feel someone out. In this case, Alenko was in a position to do a great deal of harm, and needed to be checked. Shepard never could learn how to do it subtly. A pity. If he's going as far as Udina wants, he'll need every weapon possible in his shot locker.

"His father was John Shepard. A good man; one of the first to receive gene modifications developed for soldiers, and the prototype for many follow-up concepts. He was a great fighter, but a better leader … until he quit."

"Quit?"

Anderson raised his gaze, avoiding Alenko's eyes. It wasn't the happiest memory, even if not his fault. "A mission went bad. Civilians were hurt. John had a big heart – and what he saw – broke him. More than the psychiatrists could fix. Pity, he was slated for N school, if he'd accepted. Could have been a great leader. Not to mention the brass really wanted him." The last sentence he muttered under his breath; the lieutenant didn't need to know that part.

"But, what does that have to do with Commander Shepard?" Alenko let his hands drop.

"Commander Shepard is his father's son, highly unique. He's one of those few that can kill, and not suffer for it; maybe two percent in any human military have that gift. He feels badly when he makes a poor decision, but as long as I've known him, he's never regretted killing bad men." The captain met Alenko's eyes, "He's been through the worst life can throw at him, and he keeps coming back for more. Did he tell you about Torfan?"

Alenko shook his head. "No. He never talks about his past. Um, except for some things. Sir."

"No reason why he should." Anderson shrugged, "Shepard spent two days on Torfan ahead of the invasion. This was after Elysium, after he managed to foil a batarian slaver attack. I told him he didn't have to go, but he insisted." His dark eyes narrowed. "Shepard doesn't just dislike slavers, he hates them. Always has, ever since Mindoir."

"But there," his muscles tensed, an automatic reaction as Anderson looked into the past. "His gun camera recorded only a portion of Shepard's kills, but those were enough. Since he was there off the record, it's not in the official listing, but anyone who's in the right channel knows. Torfan boosted his kill count by over five hundred. And that was before he started using explosives."

Alenko frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "Torfan changed him that much?"

"Change?" Anderson came back to the present, relaxing. "No. I've stayed away from asking too many questions, but Shepard didn't change on Torfan. What changed was how people looked at him after that. The way stories get around, you'd suspect Shepard could have taken the whole base by himself." He shuddered. "I don't trust the stories, but I do believe he could have destroyed it. By the time I caught up with him, he'd gotten hold of a shuttle and was loading it with fuel canisters. Fission material. Dangerous stuff."

"Ah." Kaiden sat for a moment. "Then was it Mindoir that made him this way?"

Anderson grunted. "Partially, I suspect. I wasn't there, but it was bad. The colony wasn't large, but it was well on its way towards becoming a big one, kinda like it is now – and he's the only listed survivor. All I can say is that he had a lot of pain back there, but it never broke him," he snorted. "It did help him become what he is, though. Why he frustrates so many people."

"Oh?"

"Mindoir wasn't a full Alliance member back in the late 60's." The chair creaked as Anderson shifted position, "Its founders weren't quite as – trusting – of the governing body as they could have been, with some good reason. That far out, I know some of the old generals were intent on reserving the planet as a glorified military base, not an actual colony. Anyway, Mindoir's original charter specified a certain independence; that's partially why reinforcements came so late."

"Uh-huh." Kaiden's eyes narrowed, "and the frustration?"

Anderson's gave swept over the biotic, making the man straighten involuntarily. It was a trick he'd learned from the old sergeant back in boot camp. "Shepard kept the charter, always has a copy wherever he goes. As a member of the old colony, he has certain – leeway inside the Alliance military infrastructure. It's not autonomy, but he has a larger operational freedom in the frontier regions, and a certain detached deference to the Alliance structure inside our borders. That kind of flexibility can be very quiet, which is why Intelligence likes him so much; with his ICT rating, he can go almost anywhere … with the permission of the colonial authority."

"But, if Shepard's the last survivor … wouldn't that make him …?"

"The authority to affirm his request? Yes." Anderson smirked at the younger man. "He's allowed to stamp his own requests – yet is not an independent operator. Although it should be noted that as the colonial authority, he allows junior members, just to keep up the system. He heads back to Mindoir every once in a while, training up a militia." He made a vague noise of disbelief, "Militia. That colony has a better funded military than some countries on Earth."

"Why doesn't the Alliance revoke the charter, if it has only one actual member?" Kaidan's stance was awkward, but determined. It had to be nerve wracking, talking about politics and the Commander in such a way. Most soldiers gossiped about their superiors, but almost never with an officer above the subject of speculation. "I mean, he can induct new members, but the Alliance could declare a Charter null and void, and change the local system. It is a contract after all, calling it fulfilled or failed would end it."

"Precedent." Anderson spread his hands expressively. "If one colony – even a small one – has its rights revoked because of a minor technicality, what's to stop another from undergoing the same fate?" He brought his hands back together, folding them. "That brings in politics; the ICT has had Shepard's back in this one, since he's never misused that authority. Think of it as banking for a large account; your money is promised to have a certain value, provided you don't ask for all of it at once. Or maybe a territory, not quite the same as a member-state, but holding many of the same rights – not all."

Kaiden blinked. "Huh. But why – "

"He's had a number of challenges, to end that system. There are two generals that think he should just take orders like every other soldier, but right now his value as a fairly-independent operator has been in his favor." Anderson stopped, a growing sense of unease prompting him, "More than that, you'll have to ask Shepard. I shouldn't say any more."

"Best of both worlds," Alenko muttered. Then louder, "Thank you for your time, sir." Alenko stood to leave.

"Anytime Lieutenant. Is the good Commander back in action?"

"He's headed this way right now, Chief Williams told him Udina wanted to see him about the quarian, ah, Tali'Zorah." Alenko wondered at the look on Anderson's face, but didn't comment on it.

"Always the quiet ones." Anderson murmured softly. "He's clueless, but I think he likes it that way." Raising his voice, he nodded at Alenko. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

"Sir."

He watched the younger man leave, waiting until the door slid shut. "Kids these days," he intoned to the empty room. "The best of both worlds? Perhaps the worst."


Citadel, Alliance Docks

Wrex stopped directly in front of Shepard, blocking him, anger evident in his eyes. "Shepard. You got in my way. I warned you."

"You did." Shepard kept his back straight, matching the massive alien's intent gaze. The eye-patch made the maneuver slightly more swashbuckling than he'd intended. "I also remember saying I don't care what happened to Fist after my hostage was safe. What happened?"

The krogan growled, a deep, threatening rumble. "C-Sec happened, that's what. Took him right out from under my nose. Put him in a big truck and hauled him off. You caused that."

Shepard folded his arms. "My men, my responsibility, true. Do you want something for it?"

"Yeah," Wrex snorted. "I don't want to kill you, but you're in the way of my contract. Bad for business."

"It would be." Shepard settled his stance, fluidly dropping one hand to the butt of a pistol by his right hip.

The alien responded instantly, head snapping forwards while fading back with deceptively tiny steps. For such a large individual, Wrex almost floated, matching Shepard's smooth grace with a subtle, aggressive side-step. The aura given off by the pair was strong enough to cause the passers-by to veer away, trying to pretend as if nothing was occurring. It was that way in the wild: alpha fights rarely resulted in death, but until the conflict was over, it was better to avoid both combatants.

"What if I gave you a way to fulfill your contract?" Shepard noted Wrex's hand pause just above an armored compartment. "You may have had a contract, but I have a personal grudge against Fist, and have no desire to see him walk free, or live a long life in a cell."

The massive head cocked sideways. "You got a plan?"

"Not here." Shepard glanced around the platform, looking at the number of people milling around. The Alliance Dock was a big place, but not so big as to have copious amounts of free-space. "Later, when there's a bit more time."

"No. Now." Wrex planted his feet. "You can't run away from me here."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "In the middle of an Alliance stronghold? One whistle and I'd bring more fire on you than the Hierarchy's Third fleet."

Wrex showed his teeth. "If they could get here fast enough. By then you'd be dead, and it'd be one krogan against a scared buncha pyjacks. But …" his eye-slits narrowed, "That's a shuttle. Talk there."

Turning, Shepard saw the vessel the krogan meant. It was an older Kodiak model, heavier than the version Anderson had ordered him to obtain for the Normandy.

"A bit obvious, but all right." Shepard led the way, using his rank credentials to unlock the shuttle. He made a quiet scan, shutting down the intercom system from the pilot's cabin to the passenger space, then running a quick sweep. No sense in being careless.

As soon as the door closed, Wrex turned to face Shepard. "Brave man, going into a shuttle with a krogan. Most folk call it suicide."

Shepard tapped a grenade at the side of his belt, not the lighter omni-tool manufactured variety, but a dedicated implement of explosive ruin. "I call it mutually assured destruction. Truce for now?"

"Until the door opens." Wrex promised. "Now talk."

Shepard showed his own teeth. "None of this ever happened. If you tell anyone, I'll deny it and remember that you told. Understood?"

"Beginning with threats?" Wrex's teeth gleamed an off-white color in the dim lighting, "Good. Standard agreement."

"Right." Shepard tapped his omni-tool, sending a data packet. "This is a locker in the public access bay, standard shipping container size. The code I just sent will unlock it for you; open it and go to the back. Get the case marked 'Happy Times;' it's the white box that will be sitting on the floor, in the back right corner. I think there are a few krogan size weapons there, take them if you want."

Wrex's eyes narrowed considerably.

"Once you have it, go to the private docking bay, number fifteen-D. Wait for Fist there." Shepard's voice lowered. "Inject him with one of the tubes from the box. Then, wait for me."

"What's to stop me from killing him right there? Lot simpler."

"Because I can pay double the original contract, and give Fist a much more … suitable reward for his deeds." Shepard held the krogan's gaze, "good enough?"

The krogan looked down under Shepard's gaze mulling over the offer, an interesting action considering his species. It indicated the alien wasn't solely a mercenary; that more than simple greed hid behind his decisions. The fact he seemed willing to take on the entire Alliance docking bay spoke volumes about both his judge of character, and the amount of experience at his command. Or stupidity, that could never be ruled out.

"You sure Fist will show up?" Wrex asked abruptly. "He'll run if he thinks he's got the chance."

"And Saren will give him one. Straight to the private docking bay." Shepard didn't bother to explain; Wrex had been in the business long enough to understand the subtext.

"Mmmmm." Wrex mulled the possibility. "You killing him with a poison?"

"Not killing him." Shepard let his upper teeth show again, "I want Fist to suffer. He's a slaver, a financial supporter of slavers. Saren paid him, I have no doubt, and I want C-Sec to drag every last detail about Saren from him. When they're done, he'll get his."

"The needle." Wrex didn't phrase it as a question.

"The needle. A paralytic agent variant, based off a newt in the Taricha family on my homeworld, permanent effect. Full awareness, but no muscle control; helpless, just like his 'prizes.'" Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Then, he's getting stuffed in a Keeper tunnel, with a weak proximity grenade."

Wrex's head came up. The look in his eye was almost … respectful. "He can't move, and when a Keeper comes, the grenade kills it. Strong acid. "

"And he still can't move," Shepard nodded. "He'll sit in the acid until another Keeper shows up and drags him to the protein vats. Paralyzed, unable to do anything, but perfectly cognizant. Like his victims."

Fangs reflected the dim lighting. "I like the way you think, Shepard. It's easier to just shoot him … But so long as he ends up dead I don't care. When?"

"A week, maybe a month." Shepard lifted one shoulder expressively, "Let him think he's safe. I'll ask for a transfer to Alliance jurisdiction, and rig it so he thinks Saren's behind the extradition. A private shuttle ought to do it."

A deep, rough burst of noise came from the krogan. It repeated itself twice more before cutting off; a krogan laugh, Shepard realized. Like its species, it was hard-earned, and rarely seen in normal circumstances. The alien was growing on him. Maybe he'd be amenable to a contract? I have to get his background.

"And in the meantime, I stay on the Citadel?" Wrex gave him another close look.

Blast. Forgot about that. Can't leave Wrex on the Citadel without a purpose; C-Sec would put him on the next shuttle out in no time. Can't tell C-Sec I'm going to take their prisoner … maybe on the Normandy? No background check, but krogan aren't known for sleeper agents. Bah, take a chance and put him where I can keep an eye on him.

"I'm going after Saren. I need people with experience in the Traverse, bounty hunters, contacts … I have much, but could always use more." Shepard cocked his own head at the krogan, "Know anyone who'd be interested in an advisor position on the Normandy?"

"Better call me a consultant. More action that way." Wrex gave Shepard a short nod, and turned his back. That last gesture did more than words to convey the big alien's mindset. Turning your back meant either no respect, or all the respect in the galaxy, to a krogan.

Decent of him. Shepard thought. Definitely have to an eye on him in the future. Brains and brawn are easy enough, but adding talent to the mix is so much harder to find.

With his new consultant accompanying him, Shepard made his way to the Alliance embassy.


One elevator ride, a trip over an invisible crack, and a subsequent fervent apology for mashing a turian child's face into a frozen treat, Shepard reached his goal.

He tapped the buzzer outside Udina's main door; the symbol shifted colors from orange to green at his touch. Shepard tapped it again, allowing the sensors to recognize his micro-trackers. Most people had them, even krogan. Kinetic feedback was enabled by those nanotech devices, vibrating at the impetus of whatever the interacting processor suggested.

Kind of like me. Shepard stepped through the opening door, automatically glancing at the corners of the room, noting both Alenko and Williams waiting behind a desk. I go in, see what's going, then report back. Sometimes there's problems to fix; and that's me again. A good life, all considered.

"Ah, Shepard!" Udina bustled around his desk to meet Shepard. Off to one side, a live screen with Anderson's visage still showing flickered. It shifted slightly, as if irritated about something, although most of the body language was hidden.

"You have news?" The ambassador tilted his head impatiently.

"Some. Miss Zorah here recovered data from a defective geth unit. Voice records of Saren at Eden Prime." Shepard gestured to the quarian, who was standing in the corner of the room.

Udina turned his focus on her. "Excellent, excellent. Now, my dear, how did you manage to acquire a defective geth unit?"

Her face mask tilted, annoyance evident in her posture. "By blowing its head off. Maybe it was damaged before I got there; most geth wouldn't have just snapped apart like that. Then I severed its main processor from the redundant backups, and did a flash-copy."

"Ah. Quite. Thank you." Udina made an abrupt about-face, turning to Shepard once more, blinking in unconcealed confusion. "You have the information, I presume?"

Shepard flicked his wrist, beckoning. Tali held up her wrist, letting a vague projection appear.

"Eden Prime was a major victory." The distinctive, flanged tones of a turian filled the room. "The Beacon will bring us one step closer to the Conduit.|

Conduit. Shepard filed that under "Dangerous: Weapon Possible." Whatever a 'Conduit' was, it held importance to Saren, and therefore was important to his investigation.

"That places him on Eden Prime, enough to bring him in for questioning." Anderson's voice emanated from the speaker set in the table.

"Indeed." Udina's head sank into one palm. "It will look a little too pat though, a single file that somehow records the smoking gun?"

"Wait, there's more. Saren wasn't alone." Tali keyed her omni-tool once more.

Saren's smoothly modulated voice reverberated through the room, but a moment after it had finished its proclamation, a female voice agreed quietly. "And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."

Silence filled the room. The image of Anderson's face was still, as if in shock, while Shepard remained stock still. Only Wrex seemed unimpressed, he snorted, eyes on the projection warily.

"We have him." Udina's almost flaccid stance had changed to an alert aggressive one.

Shepard glanced at the ambassador. "Not quite. We still have a great deal of work to do. Actually catching Saren, for one."

"Yes, yes." Udina waved a hand, "that will come soon enough. Right now, we have all we need to convince the Council. Thank heavens you ran across that quarian."

"My name is Tali, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya." The quarian engineer's voice seemed annoyed. Williams, off to one side, seemed to smirk approvingly before Shepard lost sight of her face.

While Tali's initial appearance would not have inspired trepidation, Shepard had to admit; her fully kitted form was much more impressive than the thin undersuit she had been wearing before. Enough to carry a pair of heavier weapons than the undersized make-shift shotgun she'd been wielding earlier.

"Of course, Miss Zorah." Udina gave her a polite half-bow, "my apologies. You are on your Pilgrimage, I assume?"

Her neck was stiff. "Yes."

"You are progressing well, I trust?" Butter wouldn't have melted in the ambassador's mouth. An admirable trait, if used well.

"It could be going better," she admitted, shoulders still rigid. "But that is the point of a Pilgrimage. To learn."

Shepard interrupted. There was no purpose to either pandering or meaningless platitudes – either of which could have been Udina's goal. He was a politician after all. "She managed to get away from Saren's men, make it to the Citadel, and escape a hornets nest of slavers. Killed over a dozen as well. With a Bluewire I, no less."

Udina gave him a blank look.

Refraining from rolling his eyes, Shepard gave him the common wrist-twist gesture for an omni-tool. "A low-grade version. Like an old Soniba mark Five, from the 50s."

"Ah. Impressive indeed." Udina's face cleared, "I will personally make sure your assistance is sufficiently compensated. Is there any-"

Tali's back went straight. "I would like to join Commander Shepard's crew, if that is possible."

What? Shepard exchanged a glance with Anderson, electronic-relayed visage glancing at the human. Did I hear that right?

The ambassador seemed surprised as well. "I'm … sorry, did you request a berth on the Normandy? I'm afraid that is – "

"A most reasonable request." Anderson interrupted this time. Shepard saw Udina's fists clench for a moment, relaxing as Anderson continued. "Miss Zorah performed the due-diligence needed to get this evidence, and is a target for Saren – given how Commander Shepard found you. If he has no objections, I would be glad to welcome you aboard."

Shepard held back a flinch as the smooth-faced helmet turned his direction. Two reflective eyes peered at him with all the intensity his sister had once pointed his way. Cheating. That's downright cheating, Anderson.

Mentally, he squared his shoulders. "If I may ask, Miss Zorah, why would you want to join me?"

The quarian gave a full-body shrug, something he'd seen the quarian marines aboard the Normandy perform when asked a question with an obvious answer. "As your Captain says, Saren will likely come after me, once he learns what I did. My Pilgrimage can be served aboard your ship even better than on my own." Her voice fell, "I'd just … hoped to do my Pilgrimage in a more traditional way; many quarians have chosen to serve aboard Alliance vessels in recent years."

"You could still do that," Shepard offered. "If you want, I can get you a berth in Alliance Space, maybe a science expedition?"

Tali's body swayed, literally leaning backwards at the offer. "Nn … nnnooo, thank you. If what Saren is doing is hurting people, the quarians should help." "Do you know what they meant by 'Reapers,' sir?"

A flash ignited behind Shepard's eyes, darkening the room to near pitch-black. One massive insectoid eye, pitiless as a deep-sea monster, peered through the darkness of countless lightyears to pin him beneath its gaze. Faint screams, of fear and rage rose and fell as the eye watched.

He shook his head, clearing the imagery. "Myths, from what I know. Legendary figures of death and destruction, unstoppable force … possibly a metaphor for that Conduit he mentioned. I'm more worried about that, honestly, and what Saren might want with it."

Udina clapped Shepard's pauldron with one hand. "Shepard's right, we need to focus on what is real, not fairy tales."

"If they're real," Shepard tried to keep his tone friendly, but with caution, "we need to account for it as a potential threat. At worst, we waste time for a non-existent threat. At best, we have a plan for the worst case scenario."

He turned back to Tali. "You wish to represent your people on the Normandy? I have a quarian squad aboard already, you know."

Her hands fiddled with each other, twisting around in a quarian version of 'twiddle-your-thumbs.' "Yes, but you saw me, I can take care of myself. And I want to help."

Shepard frowned, thinking. "Well," he began, "I'd like to see how you perform under different circumstances. But what you did in there was a good sample. Pending an evaluation, consider yourself hired."

"Thank you commander, I won't let you down!" the quarian almost bounced to his side, the opposite side as Wrex, he noticed.

Udina coughed. "We need to get to the Council. Shepard," his eyes passed over the aliens disapprovingly, "I would suggest you take only one person with you. Anderson will meet us at the Presidium Tower."

Shepard raised an eyebrow at the man, but stayed quiet. He exchanged a look with Wrex, who looked uniquely bored, shrugging indifference.

Shepard sighed, then triggered his omni-tool. "Chief Williams, please escort Miss Zorah and Wrex to the Normandy. If they need anything, talk to the quartermaster and tell him to charge me the balance. See if Vakarian is willing to accept the same contract as Wrex. If he is, offer him the same access to the quartermaster supplies." He turned to the lieutenant, still standing quietly behind one of the light stands. "Alenko, you're with me."

"Sir," The Lieutenant gave him a returning nod.

"Commander …" William's voice stopped him; it was – curiously emotional from the normally stolid marine. She was positioned half-way between the aliens and himself, shoulders tense. "Are you – certain?"

He met her eyes. "Yes Chief, I'm sure. Get Adams to help you once you're aboard. If you have any questions, come see me after I return."

"Aye aye." Her back stayed stiff, almost parade-ground straight.

Udina didn't pause, striding past the assembly to the door. "We need to move, Commander. The Council won't wait much longer. Anderson, did you hear?"

"On my way." The digital image winked out, stirring a wince from Shepard. Udina's aggressive attitude had grated on his nerves more than once, but that was what had made the man such a successful politician. Well, that and a healthy bank account on Earth, if you were cynical.

Just as he exited the Embassy, Shepard's omni-tool started vibrating, the special signal indicating a … unique message. "Alenko," he gestured at the ambassador further ahead, "Tell Udina I'll be there shortly. Got a priority call."

The Canadian raised an eyebrow, but picked up his pace, long legs eating up the distance easily.

Shepard slowed, flicking the visor over his eye. Fortunately, the damage had been in his off eye, or else the action would have been … awkward.

The message opened.

Pendragon,

Excellent work! I managed to insert several drones in the Normandy's cargo bay. Use them as you can, but keep their origins quiet for now. They look like the standard model, but should have an exponentially increased sensor range. It was the least I could do, seeing as I completely missed the direction the Council is taking. I hope I'm wrong, but perhaps it was a mistake to expose them to the potential of nanotechnology quite so early in our relationship ….

Speaking of which, I've been hearing some odd rumblings from the Vasilias – that is to say, the Rulers, or 'families' – on Thessia. There are a number of members that have been failing to … ah … manage familial duties, if my translation is correct. Councilor Tevos is one of the more visible faces; she may know more of what is going on, if you can speak with her.

I'm also forwarding everything I have on Saren's financial state to your Navigator, as per your request. Saren apparently acquired the assistance of one Matriarch Benezia – a highly respected asari diplomat. She, in turn, has been very, very busy. During the initial negotiations, Benezia was gifted with a full thirty percent share of nanotech profits from the same company in which you now hold a majority share. Given her formidable holdings, keeping an eye on her finances is more than I can handle, but I'll do what I can.

Since you have a strong position there, I've allocated resources to other locations. The Furies are still in Alliance Space, and I'm getting stretched thin, protecting as many resources as possible. They appear to be focusing on commercial sectors, hardly my area of expertise, but I've recently acquired several assets that are proving useful.

At any rate, enough of my nattering. Thank you for finding that element zero shipment for me. Be careful, be cautious and be cunning.

Emrys

The visor clicked out of the edited mode just as the message twinkled into digital garbage. Shepard rolled his eyes at the theatrics; at least, he rolled an eye. The other one felt as if it had copied its twin's motion, but the patch made it hard to see well enough to tell.

He caught up to Alenko and reduced both of their rates somewhat. Body language was very useful in that regard; the actions of others could be subtly influenced with an almost subconscious level of control. In this case, turning slightly to indicate a desire to face Alenko, and reducing his walking speed prompted the ingrained habit to respond in kind.

"Everything all right, Commander?"

Shepard caught the honest look in Alenko's eyes out of the corner of his own, before it faded into an unreadable mask. "For the most part," he responded. "The Normandy has more supplies, and I suspect it's almost ready for deployment. For real this time."

"Good." The lieutenant's voice sounded confident, assured. "Any idea what's going to happen now?"

The question coaxed a snort. Many. None. Anything can happen, yet nothing if it is so decreed. Stars can die, people can live – but it doesn't always work how we want it too. Udina has some kind of plan going, and the Council is going to try something – probably in concert with the Ambassador. Doesn't have much to do with me, though. Spectre status is tanked thank heavens, and I can get back to work as soon as a real team can take on this Saren business … maybe they could call me in for the hit?

"Some," was all he said aloud. "Won't know for certain until we get there."

Just as Shepard turned back to the front, the elevator door closed behind Udina's back, snapping shut centimeters before his nose, bringing him up short. Now why did he do that? He asked us to come with ….

Shrugging, he hit the call-key for another elevator. It would take a while, but there was nothing but time.


Elevators on the Citadel moved at one speed: slow. The public explanation, as repeated by almost every groundskeeper on the Presidium, was that too much velocity would disrupt passengers as gravity fields shifted between levels.

Shepard's personal opinion was that the Council Races had failed to redo the programming burned into the Prothean station's hardware. Thousands of years, and very little progress had been made in modifying even the peripherals; something as intrinsic as public transport was deep in the coding.

Unless Protheans preferred to fly around, the thought crossed his mind idly, maybe they had wings? Then elevators could just be used for bulk freight or wingless passengers. Had to have been more than one species back then … wonder what happened to them?

The door opened, permitting the contemplation to evaporate. Shepard stepped into the Presidium Tower once more, noting the same places as before.

"Shepard." Anderson's voice called to him from further inside, "Glad you're here."

"Anderson," Shepard reached out and gently tapped the older man's upper arm, a familiar gesture. "Udina come by here?"

"He's presenting our case to the Councilors right now." Anderson's body posture was stiff, upset, very much unlike his normal relaxed stance.

"What?" Shepard stopped moving, turning to look Anderson full-on. "He started without his primary investigator?"

"Get a move on," Anderson gestured one shoulder at the stair steps leading upwards. "They've started."

In a matter of moments, Shepard stalked up the catwalk, approaching Ambassador Udina's position. Captain Anderson walked at his side, albeit more sedately. The stance came of practice; Shepard's naturally predatory movements complemented Anderson's stolid presence, a combination that intimidated those who weren't impressed. Those that were neither impressed nor intimidated likely already knew who they were, or soon would. It was an old routine, and had served them well.

"Eden Prime was a major victory," A turian voice boomed throughout the Audience chamber, enhanced to a theatrical volume, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling like the voice of eternity. " The Beacon will bring us one step closer to the Conduit."

A second voice, higher and smoother answered as it had in the Embassy, "And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."

Shepard growled, deep in his throat, irritated. While his lack of presence in the initial arguments would lend to a lower profile, it also gave the appearance of Udina having performed all the work. Despite their tenuous friendship, the action tended to annoy him; the man was greedy at heart.

"There you have it, Councilors." Udina appeared to have timed his closing statements to tie in with their arrival. His dramatic flourishes were certainly pushing that aspect, pointing emphatically at the region Saren's hologram had occupied. "You asked for proof? There it is."

Shepard folded his arms. It was a silent method of refusal, showing that the listener did not trust all of what he heard. Get on with it Udina. We don't have all day.

"This is troubling news," the salarian Councilor leaned forwards, fingers twitching. "Saren has access to all Spectre resources. Fleet movements. Information resources unique to his position." His hands blurred into action, dual omni-tool implants activating around each wrist. "Recommend removing his rank immediately! That is if Council agrees?" The flashing lights ceased moving.

Shepard nodded. The lizard speaks the truth. Amphibian. Whatever.

"The traitor." Somehow, the lack of inflection made the word more sinister. A facet of the turian psyche Shepard was becoming more familiar with than he'd ever desired. Sparatus, the turian Councilor glared over his podium, "Agreed, Valern. I will go further and ask the Primarch of Palaven to send an alert on Saren Arterius. At the conclusion of this meeting the Turian Hierarchy will place Saren on a detainment order. Shoot if necessary."

Perhaps I misjudged the man? Shepard eyed the alien curiously, but then, turians take betrayal rather personally. Glad I'm not Saren.

"Of course." The salarian councilor's hands resumed their motion, "Sending notification to STG immediately. Spectre update as well."

"Thank you, Ambassador Udina, for bringing this to our attention." Tevos leaned forward slightly in a deeper-than-gracious nod. "Our latest information places Saren's presence in multiple places, likely a ploy. We will investigate this as our highest priority."

"That's not good enough!" Udina snarled, "That man destroyed half of a human colony, and tried to bomb the rest into radioactive ash! Send your fleets! I want that monstrosity of his ship pulverized!"

The asari's neck straightened. "Sending a fleet would cause problems far beyond the Systems Alliance's borders, we cannot simply throw ships after one man, no matter how significant he is."

Shepard watched Udina turn red, swelling up like a bantam cockerel before firing back with a stronger diatribe. Beside him, Anderson exhaled slightly, a hint at the irritation buried beneath the surface.

Politics. Overdoing emotional reactions, hyperbole … I could never be a politician. Shepard started counting rebuttals, almost as if it were a tennis match. Udina, then Tevos. Over to Sparatus, fielded by Tevos and back to Udina. Valern interjects … and debunked by Udina … gotta admit, the man is sharp, like a shark.

Shepard watched the Ambassador give him a sideways look, disguised as a gesture of disgust, then return to the argument. At the same time Councilor Tevos examined him closely, like a hawk watching a particularly succulent mouse. That was no coincidence … what do they want?

The argument continued, but this time with a few side glances from Valern thrown his way as well. Sparatus seemed indifferent to what his colleagues were doing, interjecting only at choice points. The rest of the time he appeared to be impersonating a vulture on the podium, brooding and throwing dark looks everywhere.

Sparatus is one of the least-suited to political maneuvering. He isn't nearly as engaged as the others … why?

Feigning disinterest, Shepard tightened his stance, pushing his shoulders back, emphasizing his armored form. Few cared to argue with a man attired as he, especially one who so pointedly remained aloof of the discussion.

Words flew faster, darting between the respective speakers like aggressive flights of birds. Udina's body language became tenser, and his shifting eyes were becoming more and more obvious.

This is actually kinda fun. Shepard suppressed a grin at the Ambassador's expense. You want something from me, to just open my mouth and say something? Well you're not getting it; friend you may be, but pushing me into the Spectre Candidate hot seat took some of the luster off of that title.

Tevos seemed to be getting flustered as well. Her statements were becoming less logical, more emotional than her reputation suggested.

He just enjoyed the exchange, watching the posturing. It was a pleasure, sitting in the point of power, yet not having anything to do with it. I don't know what convinced them to tap me, but I'm not going to make it easy. Not easy at all – for once, I'm the most politically powerful person in the room.

The sound of a throat clearing itself barked from his right.

Shepard hid a groan. Surely Anderson wouldn't push the issue, even after he knew of Shepard's opinions?

"Councilors, Ambassador, if I may have a moment?" Anderson didn't look at Shepard.

Shepard's shoulders slumped before he caught himself. Whatever the blow, he'd take it like a Spartan. But better looking.

"Yes, Captain?" Udina's voice held a trace amount of relief; considering the company he was in, and the training diplomats underwent to avoid that kind of tell, it must have been tremendous indeed.

"If I understand the situation, the Council doesn't want to send a fleet after Saren because he is travelling through the lesser-colonized regions. Is this correct?"

Tevos tilted her head at the captain. "Succinctly put; the Traverse is rife with non-affiliated activity, and the Terminus Systems have never fully acknowledged Council authority. Sending a fleet in their midst would undoubtedly cause an upheaval with which we are not prepared to deal.

The captain turned back to Udina, "Ambassador, you want to see Saren punished for his crimes, more deliberate action that you can see without going through Council Fleet Command, right?"

"That is accurate." Udina responded; relief was coming off him in waves now.

Shepard closed his eyes, making one last attempt "Anderson?"

"Then perhaps we can compromise. Send Commander Shepard, and perhaps a support team. That way the Council avoids sending an entire fleet, and the Alliance can have close-tabs on everything." Anderson gestured at Shepard, "He is already on the short list for Spectre evaluation, and carries the trust of the Alliance."

"An excellent idea!" Udina chimed in, "Councilors?"

Shepard ignored the muttering sounds; privacy fields kept the majority of conversation from reaching his ears anyway. It just felt too … exhausting now. No matter how hard he tried, how far he ran … he couldn't get away. Stupid Shepard. You should have run when you had the chance; you didn't run on Mindoir or Elysium, you didn't run on Akuze. How long until you learn?

The timbre of voices shifted slightly; not much, but enough to garner his attention.

Opening his eyes, Shepard noticed more observers in the galleries, like the chambers that flanked the halls of the Alliance Parliament. Not as in dozens of watchers, but hundreds. Mini drones with watchful lenses were beginning to hover over the crowd, advertising what had to be Council media networks.

Great. He kept emotion from his face; any public function he'd needed to perform had required at least basic control. Not only am I railroaded into this, I get to be publicly humiliated. I wonder if Mom is watching …? She watches the news pretty religiously – no. Don't think about it.

Sparatus interrupted his thoughts. "Commander Shepard, while your capabilities are well within the requirements for our Spectre program, I am afraid we cannot grant you the position. While the Alliance is a highly valued ally, it has not as an associate member race of the Council. You are indeed a worthy candidate, but as a foreign national not subject to our laws, it would not be right to make you an enforcer of Council Authority."

Shepard's initial sense of jubilation took a dive. Prefacing a statement with a negative, in such a public setting, was merely window-dressing, followed by a positive.

"However, the Attican Traverse and Terminus Systems are territories, not member systems. If you agree to confine your activities requiring Council authority to those regions, and will permit an acknowledged expert in Council Law accompany you," Sparatus twitched resignedly, "then the Council will grant you a probationary level Spectre Status."

A collective gasp escaped the predominant susurration from the gallery. That, more than anything else, finally broke Shepard's resistance.

He looked Udina in the eye, glaring at the man for one precious second. Don't think I'm a lapdog, someone to send to fetch whenever you please.

Finally, he faced forward, while avoiding looking at the beings complicating his life. He could accept for now, then turn it down inside a few weeks, citing some difficulty or other. A solution that made everyone unhappy – and therefore an excellent compromise. "Councilors," he gave a formal partial-bow, no more than thirty degrees, but held for a count of one and a half breaths, "On behalf of the Alliance, I thank you for this honor."

Councilor Valern folded his hands atop the podium. "Commander Shepard, due to the circumstances, I am afraid there will be no investiture ceremony. Former Spectre Saren has attained a formidable advantage. Pursue him to the best of your abilities; the Council will offer whatever assistance befits the situation."

Load of codswallop. Politicians will help only when it makes them look good. Shepard thought, but kept his feelings quiet, "I understand, Councilors. I will begin immediately."

Tevos's face twitched; he couldn't tell if it was a grimace or a smile. "May the goddess watch over you, Commander. All of us will contact our respective governments and ensure you receive the utmost in cooperation."

Shepard took a slight amount of pleasure in seeing Udina's imitation of a largemouth bass, a fish he'd once sought while on survival training. Sadly, it wasn't a long-lasting moment.

"Commander, I will head back to my office. Come, Captain; we have much to discuss." The politician didn't wait for a response. His somewhat un-athletic form paraded back down the extension towards the Presidium Tower elevator, pride in every step. It had to be a political thing, although to be strictly honest, the man had just overseen one of the largest political pushes in galactic history.

Thinking on the matter didn't assuage Shepard's view, however. His fairly low-profile appearance – despite the numerous business appearances – was well and thoroughly shot. "What price have we paid?" he muttered quietly.

He hadn't realized Alenko was standing so close. "Sir?"

Shepard glanced at him, then at the cameras. Reporters were already descending on the floor on the right-hand side, making a beeline for his position. Great, they'll plaster my face over every flatscreen on the Citadel. Unless I move. He glanced back at Councilor Tevos, gauging the distance. If he hurried, he could ask about the vasilias issue … but the reporters were getting too close.

"Never mind." Shepard moved diagonally to the reporters, getting behind several large planters. It was a short run from there – fast walk, not run – around a series of increasingly taller displays, then a brief shuffle around some of the more convoluted statuary. Seconds later, he was well out of the main chamber, safely ensconced in one of the subsidiary areas.

He paused, taking his bearings. Only an older Alliance admiral was present, speaking urgently into one of the ubiquitous high-speed terminals that dotted the station. A quiet fountain bubbled in the center of the plaza, somehow looking natural amongst the non-reflective metal flooring and greenery.

"Commander, how did you know about this?" Kaiden's voice came from Shepard's right.

"Mmm?" Shepard studied the admiral, the rankings indicated a certain amount of seniority, yet the dialogue engaged was about an Alliance team ... curious.

"You knew how to get here pretty well, have you been here before, or did you get lucky?" Kaiden persisted.

"Oh, that," Shepard dismissed the question as politely as possible. "I've been on the Citadel a time or two before. You know how it is on a station; privacy is always valuable."

"Of course," Kaiden seemed to catch the implied directive, "Um, so what now?"

Shepard checked the path he'd taken. No one seemed to have followed him – but he didn't live there, a native would know all the paths. The route to the Normandy would be watched, as probably the path to the Alliance Embassy. Perhaps C-Sec would be safe, if approached from the right direction … maybe the Keeper Tunnels, if he were careful to not be seen?

"I'm sorry Admiral, but the resources for a search simply aren't available right now." A digitally enhanced voice caught his attention. "You know the procedure as well as I do Kahoku, a Missing Persons report has to be processed through Intelligence when it's a scouting mission."

"I know," the admiral hung his head, shoulders slumping, "this was supposed to be so simple. Go in, take a look, get out quietly."

"Yes … and because we've known each other so long, I'm not saying anything. I warned you to not dig in old graves … is this a secure terminal?"

Kahoku's head snapped up, peering left then right. He froze, upon seeing Shepard. "I'll call you back."

The man's hand twitched, cutting the call. "You are?"

Shepard kept a somewhat relaxed posture. "Commander Shepard of the SR-1 Normandy. This is Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko, also of the Normandy."

The man's shoulders went back, "You're with Captain Anderson? The N7?"

"Yessir," Shepard felt pride in the fact, "I've worked with him for a number of years now. Good man."

Kahoku relaxed further. "You are Commander Shepard, the N7 Plus he talked about so much?"

"I don't know about 'so much,' but there is only one Plus I know of that is also a Shepard. Me."

"Oh thank God," the admiral put one hand on his heart, as if feeling its palpitations. "Whatever are you doing here? This is the last place I'd expect to see you …"he gestured, indicating their surroundings.

"You heard how Eden Prime was attacked? Spectre Saren Arterius was behind it. The Council just made me some provisional authority, so I can work in Council space. Then, reporters … it doesn't matter what species, they're all jackals."

"Aha." Kahoku's face twitched, then went still. "Reporters? Looking for you? Here?"

"Yes – the 'ceremony,'" Shepard made the word questionable with an elegantly placed inflection, "ended less than five minutes ago. This was a quiet place, so – "

"I have to go." Kohoku gave the place they'd entered a quick look, and hurried in the opposite direction. "Look for a message from me soon. It's important!"

Shepard watched the Admiral's retreating back, perplexed. "Wonder why he did that …."

"Who knows." Kaiden glanced behind himself as well, nudging Shepard's arm. "We better get moving too; no clue how long they'll be looking for you. Or me."

"Shoot! I didn't think of that!" Shepard pulled up his omni-tool, activating its communication function. "Normandy, this is Commander Shepard. Please advise all Normandy personnel to be on the alert for potential media interference. Conclude your business as soon as possible, and return to the Normandy. That is all, Shepard out."

He shared a look with the biotic lieutenant. "Quick and quiet, back to the Normandy."


Shepard breathed a sigh of relief upon spotting the familiar swept-wing shape of the stealth frigate. Only the normal business appeared present; drones of a purely industrial nature floated around the frigate, with nary a civilian in sight.

"Shepard!"

He turned, noticing both Anderson and Udina standing near the boarding hatch to the Normandy. The features on Anderson's face were remarkably static, as if he were suppressing a reaction – something he did only when 'on the job,' so to speak.

"Captain, Ambassador." Shepard attempted to pass the two, but stopped when Anderson shook his head slightly.

"Great things, Shepard. We have news!" Udina seemed ready to practically float towards him, hand outstretched. "Congratulations, we finally have what we need to capture Saren!"

Shepard tilted his head to one side, studying the ambassador. "We've always had that capacity. This just allows us to follow him into Council space." He paused, then voiced a question, "I'm still not exactly certain why they needed so much from us in the first place. The right of pursuit is routine business, even in an inter-galactic setting."

Was it just him, or had Anderson flinched?

"I'll take care of the political side of things," Udina finally came to a less enthusiastic bounce, "you worry about catching Saren. Which brings me to why we're here."

Why you are here. Shepard glanced at Anderson. The captain has a place by his ship, and I am a member of its crew. What's the politician doing here?

"In order to catch Saren, you are going to need the best: that's the Normandy."

No, he couldn't mean that.

"She's quick, and she's quiet." Anderson's arms had yet to unfold, apparently not directed at Shepard, but still cold. "The crew trusts you, and that's the most important part. Take care of her, Commander."

Shepard felt his jaw drop, a feat he hadn't believed anyone capable of inducing in years. "You're – stepping down? Now?"

Udina bounced in again, "Captain Anderson has agreed you have a higher need for this than the 63rd fleet. I've sent the necessary paperwork to Admiral Mikhailovich, detailing how the Alliance's First Spectre is appropriating the Normandy. He was rather combative about its creation with the Salarians and Turians, so I doubt he will have much of a problem letting it go." Udina clapped Anderson's shoulder, "Besides which, Anderson tells me the crew is handpicked to be the best of the Alliance, and that is where you shine, Shepard. You've shown great leadership skills before, and you can do so here. Which reminds me …."

Udina reached to his omni-tool and tapped a few keys. A screen extended from his wrist, just as a vibration told Shepard he'd received a high-level message. "You are now in charge of the investigation in the actions of one former Spectre Saren Arterius, in respect to his presence on Eden Prime and the Geth uprising. You will be assigned a parallel Council representative when you are within Council Space, but have free jurisdiction in the Attican Traverse, the Terminus Systems and Alliance Space."

"Wait, wait just a minute." Shepard felt his hackles going up, restraining them with a bit of effort. He took a breath, calming the irritation of being manipulated yet again – this was an attempt to help him after all. "You mean to say I'm taking over the investigation, and being given full command of the Normandy?"

Udina bobbed up and down. "Exactly. Well done, Commander."

Shepard knew sarcasm when he heard it, even when it was veiled by friendly words. He considered himself an amateur specialist in the lost art of irony.

"Leading an official investigation is a full-time job. Being Captain of a ship is a full-time job. Being Commander of a ship is a full-time job. Where am I going to fit all this in? I can't do all three jobs at once, even if I am pretty efficient about what I do." He gave Anderson a pleading look – another thing he was unaccustomed to doing. "Taking away the leadership will hardly endear the crew either; a Commander enforces the Captain's will, he doesn't make friends."

Anderson chuckled dryly, but stayed silent.

"Anderson has arranged for additional crewmembers for you," Udina's voice sounded a little strained, apparently unused to pushback. "You will need to choose a new executive officer of course, but the majority of your duties can be performed by a specialist team. You will need to select members for that team, but once they're present, you can devote the majority of your time to what needs to be done most."

That didn't sound ominous at all. What else are you hiding from me? Shepard looked at Anderson once again, dropping the mask enough to convey his wishes.

Anderson sighed, closing his eyes. "Shepard … I had a shot at being a Spectre, you know that. I … have history with Saren. If I'm involved with the hunt, there will be accusations. I'll taint your investigation, and I can't do that to you."

Shepard groaned audibly, rubbing his good eye. "Then why did you sign on in the first place? Why did you sign me on? I could be doing something useful rather than playing nursemaid to some egghead think tank."

"Commander," Anderson's voice was sharp, reproving. Shepard found himself unable to care. "You have a job, and it needs to be done. Yes it's hard, but that hasn't stopped you before. Are you refusing the task?"

Yes. No. Maybe … Shepard had to wrestle himself into submission. I've been hoodwinked into this. Shanghaied. The spider caught in the steel web, the shark in jaws of iron. How did I miss all of this? I could refuse … but how many bridges would I burn? Yes the Council thinks I'm going to do it … but that was just to gain time ….

"A moment to think, Captain?" Shepard felt, more than heard Udina's exclamation of disbelief.

"Take as much as you need, Commander." Anderson's eyes were softer now, almost … sympathetic? He couldn't tell.

Shepard stepped back, pacing towards the edge of the metal extension, mind whirling. He wasn't worried about falling off while distracted; security ensured force fields that kept people from jumping off – a regulation that came from some turian mutiny trial centuries before. Apparently an entire ships' crew had committed mass suicide after being informed of their treason.

That's interesting, but not germane. Shepard's feet found the edge and guided him along its precipice. I can always refuse, claim the colony doesn't believe this to be the best use of my time. That would incinerate any future usage though; too much blatant favoritism – which it is, honestly.

His feet wandered around a cargo block, wending their way further down the path. Or, I agree and take over the hunt. The simplest method is to just kill Saren from a thousand meters; nobody gets up after a few supersonic grams of lead are imbedded in their brain. Efficient, if a bit messy. Then I could quit the Spectres and go back to the real work.

Why would I want to do this as a Spectre though? He stopped at the edge, peering at the Citadel from his height. Alright, let's turn this around. Why wouldn't I want this? Power, authority … access to resources I don't normally have ….

That sparked another train of thought. Three colonists left. Every time I get close, someone moves them, either in or out of Council space, and it takes me months to track them down again. If I have access to Council resources, I could cut that into a fraction of the time.

The more he pondered that angle, the more he liked it. All three down, and then I can finally rest. Retire. Maybe not on Mindoir, not any more, but somewhere they haven't heard of nanotechnology or slavers … maybe an asteroid in the middle of nowhere … can I actually be thinking of retirement?

Slowly, he turned, looking back at the Normandy and indirectly, the crew within. I can work with them, they need some help getting everything set up for my replacement, once I get Saren. The brass won't want me in charge for too long; ambition is always feared by the ambitious. But, they're a good crew; maybe I could think of it as a mobile base for the investigation … host the Red team for brainstorming … yes, this could work.

Straightening, he walked back to Anderson, feeling a great deal lighter. Udina started to speak, but stopped. Shepard looked Anderson straight in the eye. "I'll do it."

Udina started talking, but the more significant action was the approving glint in Anderson's posture. Ever so slightly, the older man inclined his head, acknowledgement of the difficulty of Shepard's decision ... somehow, a gesture that meant less, with the older man's refusal to help.

He just wished the approval hadn't caused so much pain.


A/N: Greetings once more, Chuck here. Classes go well, and the writing is very calming for the mind. Helpful for organic chemistry.

Thanks to Raw666 for the quarian Pilgrimage idea, using Alliance vessels for the most part.

Belated thanks also to Finnish Paragade, for adding a color to the N7 armor (and title).

I'd also like to thank thepkrmgc; your suggestion had merit, and I hope you liked the political buildup :)

My suggested reading for this chapter is Random Equinox's "The Hero Rises" (ID# 10949645). This writer is one of the best on FanFic, and has multiple other works (completed, no less!) fit for viewer consumption.

Like what you're reading? Dislike? Why? Review or PM if you want to see changes; I can't promise to take all ideas, but those that can work will get full credit.

Until next time!