So, uh. This hasn't been beta'd or even really spell-checked. I just wanted to get it posted ASAP. If people find errors and point them out, I'll give them a cookie!

Okay, well, I'll imagine giving them a cookie. We can't send cookies over the internet yet. At least, not the tasty kind of cookies. I don't think you want any more of the not-so-tasty kind.

Right. Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Header for the chapter.

Not much else to say, really, aside that this one is also really, really, really long. Sorry about that.

"You know," Kaidan panted as they jogged along the presidium walkway, "I think I've heard of Harkin."

"Oh?" Shepard grunted questioningly, only half paying attention. "What's scuttlebutt say? He well known?"

Kaidan didn't answer as they ran up to the small landing pad. The skycar pads were ubiquitous about the citadel, but especially on this part of the presidium given the number of diplomats, dignitaries, and other assorted VIPs that visited the area.

Shepard punched in a priority call for a cab before starting a few stretches to ensure her legs wouldn't cramp. Ashley was breathing hard and Kaidan was doubled over, leaning on a rubbish bin next to one of the small benches scattered around.

Grinning, she clapped the exhausted biotic on the shoulder. "You should get more exercise, Lieutenant," she said. He grunted something incomprehensible and shook his head.

"You always run everywhere, Commander?" the dark-skinned woman asked as they settled in to wait.

"When I'm in a hurry, sure," she replied. "What's the deal with Harkin, Alenko?"

The lieutenant took a few last gasping breaths before straightening to face her. "I wouldn't say he's well known, although the diplomatic corps certainly knew who he was." He grimaced, and the expression had nothing to do with the run that she'd just put him through. "He's supposedly a bit of a boor, and had a few issues with some of the women at C-Sec."

Ashley pushed off from the post she was leaning against to shake her head in disgust. "A corrupt drunkard, and a womanizer to boot? Reminds me... why are looking for him again?"

Shepard glanced over her shoulder at Ashley. "That a rhetorical question, chief, or do you want a summary?"

"Ah- rhetorical question, ma'am," she said quickly. "How long until our ride arrives?"

Shepard shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't list an ETA."

"Depends on how busy it is," Kaidan offered. "During peak hours, the diplomats often end up waiting so long they'd be better off walking."

"That's stupid," Ashley snorted.

Shepard grinned. "Well, they can't go wrinkling their suits, now, can they? Time for some good old fashioned hurrying up and waiting."

Ashley groaned.

"Uh, Commander? Are you sure this is the right stop?" Ashley asked, wrinkling her nose at the smells wafting across the tiny, harshly-lit transit platform.

While the citadel didn't have slums per se, at least, none that anyone would admit to, this was about as close to one as to make no practical difference. The normally polished and clean decking was scuffed, battered, and covered in a thin layer of sticky grime. The lighting was simultaneously darker and harsher, being cast from cheap narrow-spectrum LED panels sporting cracked diffusion lenses instead of the pleasant full-spectrum illumination on the presidium.

And the smell...

Shepard took a cautious sniff. Urine, vomit, decomposing garbage, oil, smoke – both the flat scent of stale cigarettes and the acrid smell of burning plastics – and the sickly almost-sweet smell of something rotting nearby.

Scratch that, she thought to herself in amusement. The citadel does have slums. They're just too pretentious to label them for what they are.

Her eyes flickered about the landing pad. Not to the darkest areas. Contrary to popular belief, muggers didn't hide in dark alleyways to jump people. They'd wait under streetlamps with friends, because people were far more likely to ignore that which they could see and categorize than the scary unknown in the darkness.

The pad appeared abandoned, however, and Shepard sighed quietly. "I'm sure it is, Chief. Let's move."

The bar, or more specifically, strip club wasn't far from the transit station. In fact, it was practically next door – a piece of information that was conveniently left out of the navigational software included in her commlink, which had led her on a wild goose chase through a market, up several flights of stairs and then back down and around a small maintenance alleyway lit only by nightvision-friendly red lighting.

"I have to say, ma'am, I'm feeling a bit naked out here," Ashley admitted after leaving the maintenance corridor.

"Shepard chuckled and slapped the hatch control that led to the pedestrian passageway over the skycar thoroughfare. "It's seedy, Chief, but it's still the citadel. I don't think anybody is stupid enough to jump three alliance soldiers in the middle of-"

"That's her!" her translator barked in her ear, making her wince as the door slid open. "Get them!"

Shepard's head snapped up to the turian screech that had accompanied the translator's bark. Across the thoroughfare, on the other side of a circular walkway were a pair of shabbily-dressed turians pointing pistols at her.

Pistols that were just starting to fire.

The reaction to the incoming bullets from the three soldiers was immediate. Ashley dove for cover behind the bulkhead, landing on the scummy ground with a loud oof and bit-off curse. Kaidan lifted his hands in front of him, a reflexive defensive gesture that would have been comical for its uselessness had it not been accompanied by the telltale blue glow of a biotic barrier forming.

Shepard, trusting in her shield generator, opted for a more direct approach.

Remember, the voice of one of her biotic instructors back at the ICT whispered through her mind, that true biotic power lies not in the hands of the one with the greatest strength, or the fastest reflexes, but with the most cunning. Never forget that the entire world is your weapon! Walls, floors, ceilings, cliffs, doors, anything that isn't bolted down... anything in the environment can become a weapon in your hands. Without flexibility and adaptability, you are nothing more than an expensive piece of heavy weaponry.

With it, you are one of the most dangerous things an enemy will ever face.

She grinned through the blue ripples of her shields at the turians, raising her fist and tugging.

An invisible train smashed into the two would-be assassins from behind, slamming them into the concrete railing with a sickening crunch. And while she couldn't actually feel their bones break and plates shatter through the gravitational anomaly she had conjured, the sounds – and screams – that they made told her more than enough.

She shifted slightly, raising her left hand to join the first. Bringing them together in a cupping gesture, she hoisted the battered turians into the air over the skycar passageway. They dangled there, coughing wetly as they slowly rotated above the skycar-filled chasm below.

She tilted her head back to look at the two. They were shabbily-dressed, wearing cheap jumpsuits covered with utility pockets. One was unmoving, his neck twisted at a very wrong angle, while the other was clearly rattling out his last breaths.

"Useless," she muttered.

With a sudden violent motion, she brought both hands down toward her chest, clenching her hands into fists as she did.

In the air above the platform, the battered pair convulsed helplessly as the field that kept them aloft collapsed in upon itself. Limbs snapped, bones shattered and pierced through their thick skin, and a small torrent of blue blood streamed out into the air, forming an almost artistic band of blue droplets.

Two and a half seconds later, the broken corpses landed on the heavy transport lane of the thoroughfare below. A wet thud and several loud crunching noises indicated that the bodies were officially no longer her problem.

She stepped back from the railing and turned around. "Everyone unhurt?" she asked.

Kaidan nodded and let his barrier fall, face pale and mouth set in a tense line.

"Just my dignity, ma'am," Ashley grumbled from behind the wall. She brushed an ineffectual hand over the grime now coating the side of her borrowed dress blues and grimaced. "Now I feel slimy and naked."

She glanced around the empty pedestrian passage. "Hey, what happened to the...?"

Shepard jerked her hand over her shoulder at the skycars streaming by below. "Officially not our problem any more. You good to go?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ashley replied automatically, then blinked. "Wait, we're still going to look for him? What about-" she gestured at the empty space where the two assassins had been.

Shepard shrugged and started walking toward the giant neon silhouette of an lounging asari. "I don't know about you, Chief," she called back over her shoulder, "but if I were shieldless and unarmed with assassins after me, I'd rather be inside a well-traveled club with security cameras and bouncers than in an abandoned overpass."

Ashley swore and jogged after her, Kaidan close behind.

"We can call a cab from inside when we're a little less exposed," she said quietly when the two caught up.

"You really think they were assassins, then?" Kaidan asked, eyes flickering around for hidden listening devices.

"Muggers usually demand things before shooting you."

"And how do you know there won't be more?" Ashley demanded in a heated whisper as they approached the front door of the club.

"Because of how assassins work," Shepard explained patiently. "Look, it's been less than a day since we were on Eden Prime, and only a few hours since we arrived on the citadel. Good assassins, skilled ones, they won't take rush jobs. Far too much risk."

I certainly wouldn't.

She glanced over the railing at the blue smear below. "And there are only so many people willing to try to shoot armed Alliance officers for credits."

Ashley leaned back. "I- guess that makes sense," she admitted slowly. "I still don't like this."

"Believe me," Shepard said, tapping the door panel, "it's not exactly my favorite situation either. Let's go find Harkin."

"Right behind you, Shepard," Kaidan nodded.

They stepped inside the foyer of the club, letting their eyes adjust to the perpetual gloom. Ashley took one look at the young asari dancing around a stripper pole on top of the bar and sighed, shaking her head. "A million light years from where humanity began and we walk into a bar filled with men drooling over half-naked women shaking their asses on a stage. I can't decided if that's funny or sad."

Kaidan coughed into a fist. "What, you don't think they're here because of the food?"

The corners of Shepard's mouth twitched. "I don't think I'm in the mood for eating anything that's on the menu here," she said with a sidewards glance at the dancing asari before surveying the crowd. "Anybody know what Harkin looks like?"

"Er..." Ashley stammered, staring at the commander before blushing and shaking her head. "Ah, sorry, ma'am," she apologized quickly. "I don't. Lieutenant?"

Kaidan shook his head, his nose already buried in the dim glow of his commlink's holographic display. "No clue, ma'am, but he's probably on the older side. Let me grab a picture from the embassy," he said, tapping buttons on the device.

"Good," Shepard said, eyes already sweeping the room.

It really was a dive bar. Well, dive strip club, more accurately. Naked (or so close as to make no practical difference) women and asari, cheap alcohol, the smell of stale cigarettes, the hint of mostly-cleaned vomit, and far too many suspicious eyes glancing her way over nursed drinks.

That was the downside of wearing a full suit of armor and weaponry everywhere one went, of course: It make subtle something of a practical impossibility. Still, as the little incident outside the bar had proven, there were too many good reasons to wear armor to even think of leaving it behind. If she even wanted to.

Armor aside, however, Shepard had a niggling impression that this was more than a simple dive bar than initial appearances might suggest.

The clientele, for one. While the phrase "down to earth" was almost painfully ironic, it described what most of the people were wearing. Yet as she looked around, they didn't act like they were wearing generic, off-the-rack clothes. A supposedly drunk patron carefully kept what would be his cufflinks on a normal suit out of a patch of spilled drink on his table. A turian sat watching an asari dancer... flanked by a pair of bored krogan that had bodyguard written all over them.

The bouncers themselves were also impressive. While a seedy strip club in a rough neighborhood might have several bouncers, it was rare for a place like this to employ an entire contingent of krogan bouncers. The only thing more effective than a krogan bouncer was an elcor bouncer, and finding one that would stoop to bouncer duty was rare.

Third, the dancers were actually quite pleasing to look at, and upon an entirely clinical closer look appeared to be in good health. She couldn't spot the gummy and glazed eyes of chronic red sand abusers, nor the track marks from intravenous drugs. That didn't mean they weren't there, of course, but given how well many of them appeared to be moving, she doubted they were just hidden under layers of makeup.

No, she thought finally, this was definitely the working space for someone important in the citadel's underworld. And if this is where the folks with connections on the seedier side of life did business...

"Huh," Kaidan said, and Shepard shunted that train of thought on to a side track. "Yes?" she asked as he squinted at the tiny commlink display.

"All set, ma'am," he said, looking over the holograph at her. "Picture, place of residence, rumored business associates, legal case history, extranet purchases..." he trailed off, his eyes flickering across the hovering text.

Ashley let out a low whistle. "Why would they send all of that?"

"No idea," Kaidan sad. "I swear I didn't ask for any of it, ma'am. I just told the embassy you were looking for information on Harkin and they gave me his entire file and told me not to tell anyone where I got it."

Shepard resisted the urge to shove her face in her palm. Some idiot over at the embassy had apparently heard of the less well-publicized missions she'd undertaken for the Alliance and assumed she was cleaning house.

Idiots.

She sighed. "Well, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Is there a picture?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, tapping another button. An older, balding and scowling face looked out at them.

"Perfect," she said. "Come on, let's go track him down."

Authority figures rarely received much in the way of respect in the havens of lawbreakers.

Still, certain realities had to be acknowledged. When an N7 of any specialization in full battle dress knocks on your door with a photograph, you don't play games or pretend you don't know what's going on. You accept that things have been taken to a level that you can't handle, you give them what they want, and you pray to whatever gods you believe in that they're too busy with whatever they're doing to pay attention to you.

So when Shepard stepped up to the bartender and politely asked where she could find this man, the bartender didn't pretend to not have seen him, didn't flag down the bouncers to intervene, and didn't make a stink. He just quietly pointed across the room to a small round table tucked in an alcove and sent a quick message to his employer: N7 asked for Harkin. No trouble.

He surreptitiously glanced over where the small soldier was moving toward a pack of his bouncers that were dealing with Urdnot Wrex, and appended a word to the message:

Yet.

"You should warn Fist," the krogan in red said with conviction. "I will kill him."

The bouncer snarled as red one shoved his bulk even closer to the bouncer's face before turning and walking toward the trio.

"Out of my way, human, I have no quarrel with you," the battle-scarred krogan rumbled as he stomped past them toward the door.

Shepard breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She'd been keeping an eye on the group, as any fight between krogan was liable to quickly expand into a fight involving everyone around them. Having it defused without gunshots, headbutts, wrestling matches, or explosives was a relief.

It would be much harder to track down Harkin if half the bar was blown up, after all.

Kaidan glanced up from his omni-tool, which he had buried his nose in since receiving the data from the embassy. "What was that all about?" he asked, glancing around in confusion.

"Who knows," Ashley said dismissively. "Let's just try not to get caught in the middle."

Now that, Shepard mused, is a sentiment I can get behind.

Harkin was everything Shepard had been expecting and more.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he leered as she walked up to the table. "You looking for some fun? 'Cause I gotta say, that soldier getup looks real good on that bod of yours."

He leaned forward, staring pointedly at the chest of her armor. "Why don't you sit your sweet little ass down beside old Harkin? Have a drink, and we'll see where this goes..."

She cocked her hip to the side, resting her gun hand on it near her holster. "I'd sooner drink a cup of battery acid after chewing on a razor blade," she drawled casually.

He grinned, his eyes not leaving her chest. "Aw, you trying to hurt my feelings? You gotta do better than that. After twenty years with C-Sec, I've been called every name in the book, princess."

She rolled her eyes. "Good, then you can still be useful. I'm looking for a C-Sec officer. Garrus Vakarian."

"Garrus?" He laughed. "You must be one of Anderson's. Poor bastard's still trying to bring Saren down, eh?"

Leaning back in the chair, he grabbed his half-empted drink and finished it with a belch. "Yeah, I know where Garrus is," he said. "But you gotta tell me something first. Did the captain let you in on his big secret?"

Shepard paused.

She was fairly certain she had Harkin figured out: He was a tired, beat-down old man, past his prime and suffering under the irrational delusion that the universe owed him something.

Despite that, she didn't think that he was a stupid man. He'd lasted for twenty years in one of the most political police positions in the galaxy, and had apparently done reasonably well for himself... if the list of bribery and inappropriate conduct claims was remotely accurate.

She also didn't buy the lecherous old man act. Sure, there were some people that were legitimately that inappropriate, but an ex-cop? No. He was trying to get her to underestimate him, to put him in a box that said "old angry pervert" and move her focus on to other things – conveniently forgetting about the disgusting aging ex-policeman.

Fortunately, two people could play that game.

He wanted a reaction from her. A reflexive denial or dismissal, a condemnation of his story, because after all... what could a lowly drunken lecherous police officer possibly know about a marine captain? Nothing, obviously, which meant that his supposed "story" must be nothing more than slanderous lies about an honorable man who had served his people with dignity and respect for many years.

The military obviously never kept secrets about what it did. Never. No, sir. Nothing but truth in the armed forces.

Nope.

She could give him what he wanted, of course. She could play the "eager soldier" act to the hilt, stand up unquestioningly for her captain. He would tell her whatever it was he knew, tell her to go double check it, and raise a glass in private later when the great big pedestal he imagined she had Captain Anderson crumbled.

Doing so would come with a price, however. Not a personal one – she couldn't care less what he thought of Anderson. In fact, there was practically nothing she would object to doing on a personal level for the right return.

The problem stemmed from the careful image and reputation she had built up for herself over the years. To her superiors who knew her secret, she was a consistent (if not particularly loyal) element that could be treated with fairly. To the soldiers that didn't know, she was a kind and considerate officer that would do whatever was necessary, no matter what that was. They might not like her for it, but they respected her for being willing to own up to it.

Leaping to her commanding officer's support would fit in well with the image she presented to the soldiers: Loyal, kind, an officer and a gentleman. It would be exactly what Kaidan and Ashley behind her expected of her.

Admitting that the service was flawed, that the captain kept secrets, and that she wasn't a stupid jarhead would earn her a modicum of respect from the ex-cop that was more cunning than he let on, and by extension, the underworld that he almost certainly had ties to.

She sighed inwardly. Better to appear a fool and fit into a easy box like Harkin than to make people look twice, even if it meant missing on a chance to spread her name among the citadel's... less savory side.

"There something I should know about the captain?" she said flatly, skeptically, and with more than a hint of a threat.

Harkin grinned, obviously enjoying the revelation. He wiggled his ass back and forth in his dingy seat in a comical pantomime of settling in for a long story. "The captain used to be a Spectre," he said.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He chortled. "Bet'cha didn't know that, did you? It was all very hush-hush. The first human ever given that honor... and then he blew it. Screwed up his mission so bad they kicked him out. Of course, he blames Saren. Says the turian set him up."

"Right. And I should just," she waved a hand in the air, "take you on your word?"

"Fine, don't believe me," he said, raising his hands. "Ask Anderson. I'll be he tells you. He's too stupid and proud to lie right to your face."

"And that's the captain's 'big secret,' is it? Great, you told me, for all it's worth. Now where's Garrus?"

He tsked at her. "No appreciation. Fine. Garrus was sniffing around Dr. Michel's office. She runs the med clinic on the other side of the wards. Last I heard, he was going back there."

"Good," she said, turning on her heel. "Let's get out of here," she said to Ashley and Kaidan.

"Fine," Harkin called out to her as she walked off. "Go. Let me drink in peace," he grumbled.

They stepped out of the bar and into the open door of the automated cab that Kaidan had taken had arranged to meet them. Shepard didn't think that any more assassins would try their luck – word about messy deaths had a wonderful tendency to spread quickly – but just the same, her soldiers wouldn't go out alone, and they wouldn't go without a sidearm and shield generator at the very least.

"Right," she said as they settled into the seats. "First stop, the Normandy."

"The Normandy, ma'am?" Kaidan asked. "Not the clinic?"

"The Normandy," she repeated. "Look at the map; it's practically next door to our docking slip at C-Sec and with all that's been going on I want both of you in combat gear."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ashley piped up from the back seat.

"Welcome, Chief. No wasting time when we get back, mind. I wouldn't put it past Saren to try to wrap up the loose ends with the doctor in the same way that he did with us."

"Copy that, ma'am."

True to her orders, the pair were out the door before the cab had finished settling on the landing cab near citadel security's headquarters. Once they were safely out of earshot, she tapped a number on her armor's external commlink interface and pressed a finger to her ear.

The stigma against cybernetic modification had largely vanished with humanity's entrance into galactic society. The sheer variety of languages that humanity was suddenly forced to deal with on a day to day basis made real-time translation a necessity.

Some people – purists, or those who didn't interact with aliens on a regular basis – might opt to use an in-ear piece. To a career soldier who worked with humans and aliens from every corner of the galaxy on a regular basis, it was far more convenient to have a tiny driver implanted near the eardrum. Combined with a link to the equally ubiquitous commlinks equipped with translation software, and language barriers fell faster than the the skirts of a prostitute on a winter vancouver night.

The military enjoyed them for another reason: It meant that that ranking officers were always reachable, unless they went out of their way to disable their commlink and go off the grid.

She punched in the emergency short code for Captain Anderson's personal communicator.

"Shepard, what's wrong," his voice sounded in her ear after a short burst of static.

She wedged a finger against her earlobe. Not because she needed to block out sound, as she might in a battlefield situation, but because it provided a visual cue to the people around her that she was speaking to somebody over a piece of invisible technology. It was perfectly possible to run around blathering to empty air, but it tended to draw stares and murmured comments about institutions.

Shepard preferred not to draw that sort of attention.

"We found Harkin. He's given us a lead on the C-Sec investigator, Garrus Vakarian. I'm about to follow it up."

"Good," he said, and sounded pleased. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a shield generator on you?"

His voice lowered. "No, I'm in a meeting with Udina. What happened?"

She glanced around the docking bay, quickly checking for any prying ears. "We were jumped on the way to Chora's Den by a pair of amateur assassins," she answered grimly after ensuring her solitude. "A pair of turians."

"Saren," he swore under his breath. "Are you safe? What about Alenko and Williams?"

"Both unharmed. I'm having them kit up in battle dress before we go after Garrus."

"Good. What happened to the turians?"

"Disposed of. No witnesses."

She could hear the sigh through the commlink. "Shepard..."

"They had an unfortunate accident with the railing above the automated heavy equipment lane of the skycar thoroughfare," she said, rolling her eyes. "C-Sec will suspect foul play, but there's nothing linking them back to me. No shots fired, only impact biotics."

Anderson sighed again. "You know I don't like this-" he began.

She cut him off. "You don't need to like it, Sir. If you want it done before Saren goes after another colony, we need it done fast, which means not sitting through eight debriefings and a mountain of paperwork."

"Let me finish, Commander" he snapped. "I don't like it, Shepard, but I think you're right this time... and in any case, it's not my call to has been made... abundantly clear to me," he said.

She bit her lip. "Apologies, Sir," she said finally.

"None necessary. Listen; Udina wants to talk to you. Do you have his contact info?"

She lifted her forearm, bringing up her contact list and flicking a finger over it. "Yes, Sir, I do, both his private line and his office."

"Good. Call him on his private line; it's patched in to our encryption systems."

"Aye aye, Sir."

"Anderson out."

She tapped the connection closed and pulled the ambassador's link up.

Donnel Udina was not a particularly pleasant man, especially for an ambassador, but he managed to do his job well enough. She thought he was dangerously shortsighed while he thought her a dangerous and uncontrollable element.

She grinned lopsidedly at how accurate both of their perceptions likely were, then tapped the connect button on her comm.

"Shepard," the ambassador said without preamble. "I understand you ran into trouble pursuing Saren?"

"Yes, sir," she said. Technically, he wasn't a soldier and she wasn't required to use the honorific, but it never hurt to be polite. "A pair of assassins. Strictly amateur work, but we don't have forever to track this down. As soon as Williams and Alenko finish gearing up, we're going to track down Garrus."

"Fine," he replied gruffly after a slight pause. "I shouldn't have to tell you to be discreet," he cautioned.

"Of course not, sir." Udina was one of the few non-military members who actually knew who, and what, she was... as well as what she did.

"Good. Move quickly, Shepard, and we might still salvage this."

The link went dead in her ear.

Fifteen minutes later, Kaidan and Ashley jogged out of the airlock up to the elevator she was leaning against. "Sorry, ma'am," Kaidan panted. "Had to run a full decom."

She waved the excuse away. "You moved as quickly as you could."

The three stepped into the elevator, and Shepard took advantage of the absurdly slow lift to show a small holographic map of the sector they were in.

"We are here," she pointed at a small flashing dot at the top of a long thin line that represented the elevator shaft. "C-Sec HQ is down here. There's a back exit that leads to the wards. From there, it's about a ten minute walk to this Doctor Michelle's medical clinic."

She highlighted the C-Sec entrance in green. "Kaidan, you've been around here once or twice before. I want you to head to C-Sec and talk to anyone who'll listen. See if you can track down Garrus that way."

He nodded. "Yes, Commander."

"Stay on channel, though. If things go bad at the clinic, I want you on-call."

"Understood."

"Williams, you're with me," she said, turning to Ashley. "We're going to be in a civilian-heavy target environment, so concussive rounds and flashbangs only unless I say otherwise. I don't want either of us on the evening news."

"Ma'am," she nodded briskly.

"No questions?" she asked, and the pair shook their heads. "Good. Let's move."

"This looks like it," Shepard said, double checked the small numerical address of the nondescript door in the corner of a courtyard in the wards.

"You'd think they'd put some signs around here," Ashley grumbled. "No landmarks, no signs... it's like they want people to get lost."

"Sure," Shepard said with a shrug as she tapped the door panel. "Why not? More money for the stor-"

The door hissed open.

"I didn't tell anyone, I swear!" the young redhead in a labcoat sobbed as a trio of badly-shaven thugs glared at her while a turian in a suit of C-Sec armor tried to to crouch behind a small divider.

Shepard drew her pistol in one smooth motion, pointing it at the ceiling while Ashley flicked the safety off on her assault rifle.

"That was smart, Doc," the lead thug drawled, "real smart. Now, if Garrus comes around, you stay smart. Keep your mouth shut or we'll-"

He glanced up as the cheery customer-arrived chime echoed through the room. "Who're you?!" he shouted, grabbing the doctor and pulling her to his chest as a human shield in one practiced motion.

Shepard leveled her pistol at the man. "Let her go," she said levelly.

Truth be told, Shepard couldn't shoot the man. While she was quite an accurate shot with a pistol, she was by no means perfect, and risking shooting their only lead wasn't conducive to a successful investigation.

Furthermore, while she had made sure Williams was equipped with concussive rounds in her rifle, she was still using the (questionably legal for antipersonnel use) high explosive armor piercing rounds from the mission to Eden Prime. She was reasonably confident she could hit the thug and not the doctor... but when working with high explosives, "blast radius" quickly jumped to the top of the list of practical concerns.

She began to lower her pistol to speak to the man when the turian made his move.

Ducking out from behind the corner panel with a fluid grace, he aimed and fired his sidearm in a single motion, placing a single round cleanly through the back of the skull of leading man. The thug twitched, eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed on to the doctor's back before crumpling to the floor.

His comrades looked on in shock, covered in the remains of their friend's hindbrain.

Then the doctor screamed and dove to the floor, and the spell was broken.

The remaining thugs shouted and opened fire, spraying an inaccurate hail of molten lead at the decorative barrier the turian – Garrus, Shepard assumed – had ducked back behind.

"Flash out!" Ashley hollered, tossing a disc-shaped grenade through the gap and covering her eyes while Shepard dove for the turian. She hit the ground and ducked into a roll, coming up in a crouch just in time to shield her eyes with her forearm before the room was filled with an incredible roar and a searing light.

With the grenade's burst fading, Garrus and Shepard both leapt into action. He rounded the corner and began pumping a steady stream of shots above the trembling doctor, forcing the remaining thugs to keep their cover behind several large storage crates tucked into the back of the clinic.

Taking advantage of the distraction provided, Shepard reached out and grabbed the doctor's arm, pouring energy into her biotics. She lifted gently off the ground, and Shepard tugged her around the corner and behind cover with the same ease that one might move a small sitting pillow.

"All clear!" she called back to Williams when she had the doctor safe, at least relatively. "Williams, take them down!" she called, positioning her shielded and barrier-protected body between the thugs and the doctor.

"Aye aye, ma'am!" Ashley shouted back, her ears still obviously ringing from the detonation.

The sound of Williams' suppressing fire died off for a moment, followed by a pneumatic hiss and the brilliant red flash and roar of a shotgun's carnage attachment.

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

It was almost impressive how quickly a gunfight turned into a crime scene.

Between her urgent call to Kaidan for backup, Garrus' emergency call for assistance, and the chain of explosions and gunfire that had echoed through the ward, citadel security had swooped in on the clinic with remarkable alacrity.

The thugs didn't live. After getting shot by suppressing fire from both Garrus and Ashley, staring right at a flashbang, and getting hit by a shotgun's carnage load, there wasn't a whole lot left of the clinic, to say nothing of the enforcers.

Shepard left Kaidan to interview the doctor. Not only was he not present for the actual attack – thus negating the need for him to sit through six rounds of questioning from the C-Sec investigators – but he was also a medical corpsman trained in combat medicine.

While she wasn't a doctor, or even a medic herself – her training consisted of "stop the bleeding and call for a real medic" - she'd seen enough battlefield wounds to figure that the young doctor would be fine, mental trauma aside. The only real hit she'd taken had been from Williams' flashbang grenade detonating a meter and a half above her back, which had melted her jumpsuit and caused a few painful burns. Aside from that, she'd managed to escape the ordeal unharmed.

She did, however, have a few words for the C-Sec investigator.

He was leaning against one of the singed clinic beds, idly staring at the floor with crossed arms while two older uniformed turians spoke quietly between themselves a few paces away.

"Nice shooting back there," she said quietly, walking up to him.

He jerked up at the sound of her voice, bobbing his head respectfully before his mandibles twitched into a turian grin. "Sometimes you get lucky," he said. "I'm glad you came in when you did, Commander. I couldn't get a clear shot until you distracted them."

"Yeah, about that," she said. "What were you thinking?"

She said the words without bite, hoping that his translator would interpret them properly. It was always difficult to get the fairly primitive VI units in commlinks to give accurate translations of emotional weight and tone, especially across cultural boundaries.

Evidently he wasn't, as he started back in surprise. "I-"

She held up a hand to stop him, and tapped her ear in the near-universal signal for a mistranslation. He cocked his head, curious, as he waited for her to reword her sentence.

"What I mean," she said, "is that I wanted to know why you chose to shoot the thugs. That isn't SOP for a hostage situation unless the hostage is in immediate danger, right?"

She pressed on at his silence. "I mean, you're obviously a good shot, but even the best shots miss sometimes. You could have hit the doctor. Hell, the return fire from the friends of the man you shot could have hit her. You even might have missed, and they might have chosen to threaten her more directly or even kill her."

"In fact," she said, her eyes narrowing, "the only reason Doctor Michel is still alive is because they weren't willing to shoot by her to hit you after you killed their leader. I note that you apparently felt no qualms about doing so. Which raises an interesting question."

"Ma'am?"

She smiled. "Are you more interested in hurting the people who do these kinds of things, or saving the people who get hurt?"

He cocked his head in confusion, surprised by the lack of condemnation in her voice. "I'm in C-Sec," he replied almost automatically. "It is my duty to protect the innocent."

She shook her head. "That isn't what I asked, nor is it an answer."

"I don't understand."

"It's simple," she explained. "There are many ways to protect people. There are the people like these," she said, waving her hand across the sea of blue-uniformed citadel security forces. "Good men and women, people who really do believe in protecting others. People who would gladly lay down their lives for the innocent, people for whom no personal sacrifice is too great or hardship too extreme. People who, when a mad terrorist demands to see all of C-Sec doing a naked song and dance before he lets a hostage go, would hire a choreographer and start stripping."

He barked a laugh at the image, and she grinned momentarily before continuing. "There are also those that punish people for things society sees as misdeeds. A protector would take the bullet, while another would ensure that the one who fired it never did so again."

"A human once said that it is not the severity of the punishment that deters crime; but rather the certainty of it. Without people to ensure that the wicked are punished for their misdeeds, the wicked are emboldened. Without people to protect the innocent against the schemes of the wicked, there is tragedy."

She spread her hands, palms up in a balancing gesture. "You see? Punish and protect. Both are vital, and while you have my apologies if this is inappropriate, I believe you are working in the wrong place. Hear me out, please."

He nodded slowly, gesturing for her to continue, and she began pacing back and forth in front of the bed he was leaning against.

"In times of stress," she began, "the masks we wear fall away, and what we truly believe shows through. A coward will turn and run, a brave person will face what is coming, and so on."

Which is why I hope they never see me stressed, she thought grimly as he nodded.

"When I first walked into the clinic, you had your gun drawn and were advancing on the thugs and the doctor. Yet they clearly weren't there to kill her, simply intimidate, so the safest course of action would have been to hide or leave, perhaps making a note of what they looked like to track down later... or even to get dirt on the person who told them to intimidate the doctor."

"Now, having seen that, I can assume one of three things is true."

She lifted a finger. "First, you could simply be unaccustomed to working under stress and prone to bad choices under pressure. Given the skill with which you changed your plans after I arrived, however, I somehow doubt that to be the case."

"Second, you could be in possession of knowledge I don't have. Say, if Michel had an assistant who the thugs shot on the way in, indicating they were violent and unpredictable." She made an exaggerated glance around the room. "Were there indications that she was in imminent danger from the thugs?"

He shook his head mutely, and she nodded.

"Then we are left with the third option," she concluded, "that, left to your own devices, you would prefer to punish the wicked to protect the innocent rather than directly avert harm to those threatened."

He opened his mouth to protest, and she silenced with him a raised finger. "You will note that I do not offer condemnation or praise for either course of action," she commented mildly, and he closed his mouth. "I merely wished to offer the observation that, perhaps, your beliefs and those of the organization you work for are not in as close alignment as you might think. Were I you, I would strongly consider another line of work. Perhaps as a soldier, or bounty hunter, although I know there is little honor in the latter."

Or a Spectre, she thought. He's certainly got the skill for it... and the attitude.

"In any case, I have no doubt your superiors will give you the appropriate lectures in the fullness of time, assuming they haven't already begun," she said with a circumspect glance at the two senior turians arguing in the corner. "I merely wished to offer my gratitude for your assistance in tracking down Saren."

She extended her hand, which he shook slowly.

From across the room, Kaidan's voice called her name. She lifted a hand to him, indicating she'd heard, and inclined her head politely at Garrus. "Thank you, Officer. Until we speak again," she said formally and turned on her heel.

"What's the news, Kaidan?" she asked as she approached the doctor. "And Doctor Michel, how are you feeling?"

"Very well, all things considered," she said, then glanced over at the confused Garrus. "Thank you. All of you," she said, pitching her voice to carry.

"I gave him a lot to think about," Shepard said, when the turian failed to respond. "Don't worry."

Michel raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.

"The men were working for a local shady dealer by the name of Fist," Kaidan summarized. "A quarian came in a day or two ago, probably on the run, and was looking to trade information for protection. Apparently Fist – who owns Chora's Den, you'll be interested to note – serves as an agent for an information dealer named the Shadow Broker."

"So that's his angle," Shepard muttered to herself.

"Right," Kaidan said. "Then he's our next stop?"

She shook her head. "Something doesn't add up. Why would Fist send thugs to force someone who sends him business to keep quiet?"

"So, what," Ashley asked dubiously, "we go ask him?"

"We get more information. Hold on a moment..." she turned to face Garrus. "Inspector Vakarian!" she called.

He looked up, startled, and she beckoned him over. "What do you know about a local agent of the shadow broker, fellow by the name of Fist?"

"I know he's not an agent of the Shadow Broker any more," he replied immediately. "He's on Saren's payroll now, and the Shadow Broker's not happy about it. The Broker even hired a krogan assassin to take him down."

Shepard frowned. "Older krogan in red armor? Three scars on his face?" she pantomimed a claw raking across her own face and eye for emphasis.

"That's the one," Garrus confirmed. "Was making threats in fist's bar, so we hauled him in to C-Sec for a talking to."

"Just a talking to?" Ashley asked. "He threatens to kill a man and all he gets is a talking to?"

Garrus shrugged. "Krogan culture is a lot more violent than yours or mine," he explained. "Death threats are..." he paused, searching for a phrase, "almost part of their day to day interactions. It's so dependent on context. If we hauled in every krogan we overheard making a death threat, we'd never get anything done."

He laughed bitterly. "Not that we get anything done normally."

Michel shook her head. "Fist betrayed the shadow broker?" she asked Garrus, who nodded. "That's stupid, even for him. This Saren must have made him quite the offer."

"Which wouldn't make sense, given the level of competence we've seen from Fist so far, unless..." she trailed off. "Unless this quarian had something that would make Saren go to any lengths to get rid of her. And if she's looking for an information broker..."

Kaidan's eyes lit up. "Then she knows something that implicates him," he said excitedly. "Commander, we should find her, fast."

Shepard grinned. "Time we paid fist a visit."

Garrus' mandibles flared. "This is your show, Commander," he said slowly, "but I want to see Saren brought down as much as you do. I'm coming with you."

She glanced at him, then over at the pair of senior C-Sec officials still arguing in the corner. "Are you even free to do so? I never fired a shot, so they're not holding me, but I know they wanted Williams to stick around to answer a few more questions before they let her go. I can't imagine they're going to just let you walk out of here."

"I- dammit," he swore, pounding a nearby equipment table in frustration. "You're right, they'll have me on administrative leave or worse before this is all over. I'll even bet that's what they're arguing about."

She shrugged. "I can just go with Kaidan. We've handled worse than a criminal den. Hell, we don't even know if they'll be hostile."

"They'll be hostile," he assured her. "Especially after you killed their scum. You know, though..." he said, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "That krogan, the one making threats... his name's Urdnot Wrex. Supposedly an old krogan battlemaster. He's still down at HQ, but krogan cultural sensitivity laws prevent us from treating the threats Fist said he made seriously. I imagine he'll be getting released soon. You might ask him if he wants to help."

Shepard grinned. "A battlemaster, you say? A real one?"

"He's old enough for it, and his name's been around a while."

"I might just do that, then. Alenko? Ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Commander?" Ashley asked tentatively. "I've never really... worked with turians much. Or police," she said awkwardly with a glance around the room. "You think there will be any problems?"

She looked at Ashley, smiling reassuringly. "They're going to ask you a lot of boring questions over and over again, which you will get thoroughly tired of answering, and eventually you'll be set free because you were acting in self defense. You might even get thanks for using concussion rounds when shooting near a hostage," she said with a glance at Garrus, who shifted his weight awkwardly. "Once we track down the quarian, we'll check in with both of you. Alright?"

Garrus and Ashley nodded, the latter taking a deep breath. "Good luck, ma'am."

"And thank you again!" Doctor Michel called from the bed as they walked out of the clinic.

Garrus and Ashley sat awkwardly around a table in an empty conference room in C-Sec headquarters. They weren't being charged with anything, at least not yet, but they were being held until all the paperwork was in order. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was very boring, and there were only so many times one could count the ceiling tiles.

"Your commander is an interesting woman," Garrus said to break the growing silence.

Ashley's eyes went up. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

Garrus raised his hands defensively. "Just that she's smarter than she looks. Talked to me for a while about what I did during that fight. Sounded like all the philosophical people that love to lecture you about why what you're doing is wrong, but without any the condemnation."

Ashley smiled. "I can't say I've heard her talk like that. It's always been direct and straightforward with me, at least so far. Real practical stuff."

"It's a sign of a good leader," Garrus explained absently, thinking back to the old commanding officers he'd trained under in the military. "Changing like that. Not everyone benefits from being led the same way. Some work best if things are explained, others work better with orders. You're lucky to serve under her."

"Huh," Ashley grunted after a moment. "I suppose I am."

"Witnesses saw you making threats in Fist's bar," the close-shaven C-Sec officer said, craning his neck up at the krogan. "Stay away from him."

The Krogan – Urdnot Wrex, if Garrus was correct – chortled. "I don't take orders from you," he scoffed.

"This is your only warning, Wrex," the officer said, leaning in close to give Wrex the good old stinkeye.

Good luck with that, buddy.

"You should warn Fist," Wrex said, shoving his head forward, making the officer flinch. "I will kill him."

The C-Sec officer took a step backward, hand drifting to his holster.

"Do you want me to arrest you?" he blustered, and Wrex laughed.

"I want you to try," the old krogan said, turning and leaving.

The officer raised a fist at the Krogan's retreating backside. "Go on, get out of here," he shouted before swearing under his breath and stomping back up the stairs to C-Sec headquarters.

Shepard stepped in front of Wrex as he headed back to the Wards elevator.

"Do I know you, human?" he asked, his voice a combination of tired and bored.

"Name's Shepard," she said, her voice losing some of its normal eloquence. "I'm going after Fist. Thought'cha might want to come along."

"Huh..." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "Commander Shepard?" he asked, and she nodded. "I've heard a lot about you."

Has he? Probably from the batarians, given the company he keeps, she thought as he eyed her up and down.

Apparently making up his mind, he walked toward her and leaned close. "We're both warriors, Shepard. Out of respect for that, I'll give you fair warning: I'm going to kill Fist."

Kaidan shifted uneasily behind her and she pursed her lips. She wasn't krogan, and if she started making threats about killing people, they could and would arrest her. On the other hand, if Garrus was right and she was walking into an armed den of criminals, having someone more experienced with the citadel underworld couldn't hurt.

Besides, if they shot at her first, it was self-defense...

"One condition," she said, raising a finger.

"Hmm?" Wrex rumbled.

She lowered her voice. "They have to shoot first."

"And if they don't?"

She grinned, a humorless smile full of teeth. "Oh, they will. Trigger-happy C-Sec turian and I blew three of his enforcers into pieces half an hour ago."

Wrex leaned his head back and laughed, a deep roar that echoed around the hard-walled chamber. He looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I like you already, human," he said, extending his hand.

Shepard took it. "Welcome aboard," she replied. "Shall we?"

"Let's go. I'd hate to keep Fist waiting."

"Kaidan," she asked as they stepped on board yet another citadel skycab, "can you sweep this thing for bugs? I want to know if it's safe to talk."

"Sure thing, ma'am," the lieutenant replied, lifting his omni-tool and running it around in a circle.

"Clear," he said after a moment. "Not surprising. The diplomats use these cabs, and they like their privacy."

"Makes sense," she nodded. "Right. Battle plans."

"Ma'am?" Kaidan glanced at her. "You think it'll come to that?"

She nodded. "They'll think it's a raid, or worse."

"But the police can't just go gun people down," he said dubiously. "Can they?"

"No, but trust me, a lot of these types of people think that they can. So they react like the police are going to, and then because they're shooting at the police the police suddenly can gun them down."

"A self-perpetuating cycle."

"Pretty much. Works in our favor today, though. Rule number one is let them shoot first. If they shoot at us, then we're defending ourselves against a group of armed attackers and we're given a lot more leeway. If we shoot first, then we're murdering a bunch of civilians, and in addition to never looking good, it's hard to justify. With a bunch of criminals like this Fist appears to be, we'd probably be able to get away with it, but it's an argument I'd rather not have."

Kaidan raised his eyebrow at her. "You sound like you've done this before, ma'am," he said slowly.

"I have," she answered curtly. "Not every mission I've been on has been a warm and fuzzy rescue op."

From the back seat Wrex rumbled approvingly.

Kaidan sighed. "Okay, they have to shoot first. What then?"

"Disable any enemies between us and Fist. Nonlethal's fine as long as they're not a threat that can come at us from behind. We're not trying to take down Fist's organization, we're just after him."

She twisted in her seat to look over her shoulder the krogan. "Wrex, I don't care what happens to First after we're done, but we're trying to track down a quarian who went to him for protection that we think he betrayed. Until we get that info from him, he lives, understand?"

Wrex nodded slowly. "As long as he dies in the end, you can play with him all you like," he said.

"Appreciated. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am," Kaidan said with a shake of his head.

"No. Let's go," the krogan grunted.

The door to the bar was closed and the lights were off when they arrived.

"That's odd," Kaidan said, glancing about. "Isn't it getting on toward happy hour, or something? They should be open."

Wrex unpacked his shotgun and flicked the safety off.

"Easy," Shepard said, holding her hand against his chest, gazing at the door. "We can't go threatening them, either. They have to take the first violent act for it to look right."

The krogan snarled and tucked the heavy gun away, muttering something under his breath.

"You don't like it, you can go in alone," she snapped. "I'm sure you'd love to attack a bar full of-"

She was cut off by a faint click and hiss of a combact rifle from the other side of the door.

"Cover," she muttered, reaching for her pistol and ducking down beside the doorframe. Wrex chortled as he drew his shotgun again, clicking the safety off with a deliberate motion.

"Okay," she whispered when they settled. "Everyone remember the room layout?" They both nodded. "Good. Wrex, you cover the left side, Kaidan take the right, I'll hit anyone in the center. I'll throw up a barrier when the door opens so we don't get torn to pieces. Ready? Okay, on three, one, two..."

She reached out a hand and slammed the door panel, throwing her left hand forward, fingers splayed and alight with blue fire.

"Three!" she yelled as the door slid open, flinching as a torrent of gunfire slammed into the disk-shaped barrier she held aloft in front of her.

"Weapons free!" she shouted, diving forward underneath the storm of fire bounced off the barrier she was maintaining. Wrex and Kaidan stepped forward, taking careful positions on either side of her behind a low wall, their weapons barking in kind.

Kaidan had raised a barrier of his own, and while he lacked the raw strength of Shepard's distinctly unnatural biotic power, it was more than enough to augment his armor's already improved shielding system.

To her surprise, Urdnot Wrex also raised a barrier – not as powerful as hers, nor as precisely constructed and maintained as Kaidan's, but a barrier nonetheless – and stood in the open, firing his shotgun with a chilling regularity into each of the men taking cover behind upended tables. The tables were metal, certainly, but they wouldn't have stopped even the lightest of handgun rounds, and Shepard had the distinct impression that Wrex did not use light guns.

The tables served only as traps, granting the people hiding behind them the illusion of safety while providing for a large, easy target that didn't move.

Idiots never learned the difference between concealment and cover, she thought absently as she lobbed an incendiary grenade over the bar.

Kaidan's omni-tool flared a brilliant orange and the smell of ozone filled the air as three thugs on the right collapsed to the floor, their mouths locked open in silent screams of agony as spasms wracked their bodies.

It was a fight between a prepared and entrenched enemy on familiar ground versus an N7 vanguard, a krogan battlemaster, and one of the most well-trained human support adepts in the service.

It lasted maybe fifteen seconds from start to finish.

They should have felt honored.

"Found it!" Wrex called, lifting a bloodstained keycard from the corpse of the bartender.

"Finally," Shepard said. "Kaidan, you finished over there?"

Kaidan had insisted on providing medical care for the few thugs that hadn't been killed outright in the opening slaughter, and his face was set as he packed medi-gel from a dispenser on to an unfortunate man's gaping chest wound.

She clearly heard the gurgle and gasp as the man's final breath escaped him.

Kaind stood slowly, pulling off his gloves. "I am now, Commander," he said with a hint of bitterness.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" She eyed him levelly as he approached.

"No, ma'am," he said reflexively, then paused. "I- well, maybe. It can wait until we're done."

"Good," she said simply. "Let's go find Fist."

Wrex awkwardly tried to slide the blood-covered keycard into the reader at the back of the bar before swearing and handing it to Kaidan, who chuckled. "Laugh later," Wrex grumbled, "get the door open now."

"Aye aye," Kaidan said with a barely suppressed chuckle, sliding the card easily into the slot.

The door opened slowly with a faint grinding noise, and Shepard raised her eyebrows at the pair of trembling dockwockers pointing pistols at her.

Wrex wasted no time aiming his shotgun at them.

Kaidan shook his head. "Warehouse workers," he said almost sadly.

"Get back!" the one on the left shouted, his voice high. "Not a step closer, or I shoot!"

Shepard rolled her eyes, stepping to the side to reveal the corpses strewn over the smoldering remains of the bar. "I just killed an entire room full of people to get to your boss. Do you really think you'll slow me down?"

"Uh..." one of them said, lowering his weapon.

"Yeah, screw this," the other said. "Fist's not paying me enough to die here."

Wrex stared at the retreating pair's backsides. "Would've been quicker to just kill them," he grumped.

"It would have been cold-blooded murder," Kaidan replied.

"It would have been a waste," Shepard said. "Of life, of opportunity, and ammunition. Come on," she beckoned, stepping forward. "He can't be far now."

The fight with Fist was comically short.

He had installed a pair of large turrets into the walls of his office, turrets that he could activate from his omni-tool to deal with any disagreements that managed to get that far. Unfortunately for him, the turrets were fairly old... and ran a fairly old operating system.

An operating system that hadn't been updated, and that was as a result vulnerable to the large library of pre-compiled exploit programs Kaidan kept on his omni-tool.

The turrets had activated, popped out of their housing, and began spinning up before Kaidan's omni-tool detected their wireless signatures and identified a vulnerable active weapon control system that hadn't been tagged as friendly.

The fight was over literally in the push of a button.

Fist had time to turn around in confusion as his guns whirred and aimed at him before Shepard's single explosive round punched a crater in his chest plate and sent him flying into the far wall.

The three marched up to the staggered criminal boss and raised their weapons.

"You have precisely three seconds to tell me where the quarian is before I shoot you in the kneecaps," she said coldly.

Fist twisted around, clutching his head. "She's not here!" he babbled quickly. "I don't know where she is."

Wrex raised his shotgun.

"That's the truth!" he nearly shouted.

"He's no use to you now," Wrex said. "Let me kill him."

"Wait! Wait!" Fist squeaked, raising his hands above his face. "I don't know where the quarian is, but I know where you can find her!"

He lowered his hands, eying Shepard imploringly. "The quarian isn't here. Said she'd only deal with the Shadow Broker himself."

"Face to face?" Wrex asked, incredulous. "Impossible. Even I was hired through an agent."

Shepard glanced at Wrex and lowered her gun, allowing Fist to climb weakly to his feet. "Nobody meets the Shadow Broker. Ever," he said for emphasis. "Even I don't know his true identity. But she didn't know that. I told her I'd set a meeting up."

She stepped forward, eyes hard. "Give me the location. Now."

Fist's eyes flicked to the krogan slowly petting his shotgun. "And if I do? You won't kill me?"

Shepard considered his request. It wasn't an unreasonable one, as things went. It was definitely not unexpected.

She weighed her options.

Given the destruction she'd already wrought on his operation, there was no real way sparing his life would earn his allegiance. He would likely run, with his power base shattered and his forces decimated, although he might also come after her – she didn't know his character well enough to hazard a guess.

Sparing him would also earn her the ire of a genuine krogan battlemaster... and an old one at that, not something she considered conducive to longevity.

On the other hand, killing the man would remove an obnoxious thorn in the side of Citadel Security, shake up the citadel underworld, and put her name on the lips of the lips of the hard and the dangerous. Reputation was a potent weapon, after all, and establishing her name as one to be feared among the criminal landscape was rarely an unwise move.

It would also help cement the respect of Wrex. While she wasn't sure she liked fighting with the krogan – he seemed reckless, even by her standards – he was certainly a force to be reckoned with, and his name carried weight.

She turned her head to the right, eying him warily, her left.

With her right, she winked at the Krogan. Hopefully he's been around humans long enough...

"You have my word," she said slowly, "if you you tell me what I want to know, we won't kill you."

Fist nodded, relieved. "Fine. There's here on the wards, in the back alley by the markets. She's supposed to meet them right now. You can make it if you hurry."

"Right," she glanced at Kaidan. "The red alley. Let's move."

She and Kaidan began walking for the door, Wrex taking a moment longer to shred Fist's chest cavity with his shotgun.

Kaidan skidded to a halt, aghast. "You said-" he sputtered.

"I lied," Shepard shrugged, and Wrex laughed.

"But..." Kaidan trailed off.

"He wasn't going to give us the info we wanted unless we agreed to let him live. I have no problem lying to him to make his final moments happier."

"Then you planned to kill him."

"No. I planned to let Wrex kill him." She nodded at the Krogan, who inclined his head respectfully in turn.

"But why?" Kaidan pressed as they stepped carefully over the cooling bodies toward the door of the bar.

"Because that was the condition that he set down when he agreed to come with us. Don't you remember? He warned us, right at the beginning: 'I'm going to kill Fist.'"

"Nice to see at least one of you can listen," Wrex said with a smile.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable being an assassin."

"Then don't think of yourself as one," Shepard replied. "Remember that Fist betrayed a young quarian, likely to her death, for money. Remember that we're hunting down said quarian because she has evidence that will spur the council to act against a traitor. A traitor with a race of robotic soldiers at his disposal who has a grudge against humanity, and is willing to slaughter colonies full of innocents."

She paused at the door to the bar, looking Kaidan in the eye. "You must know of my reputation in the Alliance military, yes?"

"I-" he looked away. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded. "I am not one of their best 'problem solvers' because I'm willing to kill people. There are plenty of deniable assets they can bring in that will do that for them. I'm one of their top agents because I know exactly what the stakes are, and how far to take things."

She waved a hand across the bar full of corpses. "If this is the most morally questionable thing we do in pursuit of Saren, in pursuit of a mass murderer with a genocidal agenda, I will consider myself fortunate beyond measure. Shooting a bunch of stupid trigger-happy criminals in self defense beats some of the other ways this could have gone down, by a long shot."

He pursed his lips. "I... get what you're saying, ma'am. I'm not sure I like the slippery slope aspects of it."

She sighed. "I understand. For what it's worth?" she turned, and opened the door into the wards. "If it isn't easy, you're still a decent human being."

"The deal's off," Shepard heard in her ear as the curvacious quarian pushed the hand of a turian in Fist's colors away. He held his hand up and backed away from her, but a furtive glance to a pair of waiting pistol-wielding salarians drew the girl's attention.

The young quarian dove awkwardly to the side, arm flashing out with a small bundle of wires and metal, when the grenade belt on the would-be salarian assassin promptly exploded, tearing him in half and knocking all four of them to the ground.

Note to self, mechanically disarm all grenades before pissing off any quarians, Shepard thought as she, Kaidan, and Wrex all leveled their guns down the hall.

The quarian crawled behind a stack of heavy crates while they filled the hallway with gunfire and explosions. It wasn't quite like shooting fish in a barrel – the turian recovered quickly, and actually managed to return a couple shots before being torn to shreds – but it was close.

When everything was still and smoke cleared, Shepard cautiously walked down to the quarian.

"Fist set me up," she said in a pained voice, clutching her side. "I knew I couldn't trust him..." she said, half to herself and half to her rescuers.

Kaidan moved up, eyeing the hand she held over her abdomen with concern. "Were you hurt in the fight?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I... ran into trouble a couple days ago," she said evasively. "I know how to look after myself, though. Not that I don't appreciate the help," she added hastily. "Who are you, anyway?"

Shepard smilled. "I'm Commander Shepard with the Alliance Navy. I'm searching for a quarian that may have evidence that proves Saren Arturius is a traitor or in league with the geth. I don't suppose that's you?"

The quarian smiled. Or, at least, Shepard assumed she smiled. The UV-blocking faceplates worn by most quarians hid the details of their features, making it hard to tell what expression a quarian actually wore.

On the other hand, in the three centuries since their exile, the quarians had adopted a fairly expressive system of body language that did the job nearly as well. A straightening of the spine, lowering and pulling back of the shoulders, slight tilt of the head, and the tiniest cant of the hips conveyed happiness and satisfaction in the same way that a crinkling of the eyes, a slow blink, and upturned lips conveyed it in humans.

The movements weren't an exact match to human emotions, especially their reactions to stress or displeasure, but most of them were close enough that humans, asari, and batarians could intuit them fairly easily.

"Then I have a chance to repay you for helping me," she said graciously. "But not here. We need to go somewhere safe."

Kaidan stopped eying the quarian's injured stomach and looked up. "The human embassy," he said. "It's about as safe as you can get on the Citadel, outside of C-Sec headquarters. I bet Udina will want to talk to her, anyway."

Shepard nodded. "And C-Sec's on the way there. We can check up on Williams."

He brightened. "Good idea, ma'am. I'll bet they've finished the paperwork by now."

Wrex laughed. "Never worked with C-Sec before, have you, kid? I'll bet you a beer they're stalling on it."

Shepard suppressed another grin at Kaidan's long sigh as they walked toward C-Sec, leaving the carnage behind for the keepers to dispose of.

C-Sec was a flurry of activity, men and women of all species in uniform grabbing weapons, armor, and running around at a breakneck pace.

Shepard shouldered her way through to the front desk. "What's all the hubbub?" she asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the chaos.

"I can't-" the turian began before rolling his eyes. "Oh, for spirits' sake. It'll be all over the news in an hour anyway." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Somebody just tore through Chora's Den. Bodies everywhere. Scuttlebutt says Fist's dead, too."

Behind her, Wrex shifted sideways and tried to look inconspicuous.

"You ask me, whoever did it deserves a medal, not an arrest. Nothing good ever came out of there."

He sighed, and pushed back in his chair. "But I'm babbling. Is there something I can help you with?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah, I'm Commander Shepard, I was involved in the incident at Doctor Michel's clinic earlier? I'm here checking in on Ashley Williams, who was taken in for questioning regarding that. Also, I'm trying to find a police investigator named Garrus Vakarian who was also involved."

"Oh, right, Commander Shepard. Sorry, I should have recognized you from earlier. Williams' paperwork is done – no charges, we managed to get security camera footage and it was pretty clearly self-defense. She headed out about ten minutes ago. I think she said she was going to the embassies?"

Kaidan pointed a finger at Wrex. "Ha, see, I told you!"

Wrex held up his hands. "Fine, fine, human, you win. I'll buy you a ryncol to celebrate your victory."

"Don't take him up on it," Shepard called without turning around. "That never ends well for anyone."

Wrex's low chortle was the only response.

"As for Inspector Vakarian..." he glanced down at the holographic display, tapping a button. "He's been placed on paid administrative leave. Standard procedure for shootings."

"Thanks," she said. "Is there a way I can contact him?"

The turian hummed. "I can leave a message at his office, and I can give you his card, but it's C-Sec policy not to give out personal contact information."

"Well, surely someone here knows him personally. Can you give him my contact info? I just want to give him an update on the case he used to be working on."

"If you have information relevant to an ongoing investigation-" the turian began.

"It's sensitive, and has to do with the folks upstairs," she said, pointing directly above her to where the embassies were located for emphasis. As if I'd give out sensitive info to this chatterbox. How exactly has he kept his job?

"Alright, ma'am," he said. "Just leave your contact info and I'll make sure he knows you asked for him."

Shepard tapped her omni-tool and slid a small holographic projection representing her contact info to the receptionist, who took it. It was a skeumorph, of course – in reality, all she had done was transfer a contact code via the wireless functionality both omni-tools possessed – but one that persisted, despite nobody on the citadel using paper.

"Thanks," she said, pushing away from the desk. "Good luck with the Fist thing," she added.

"Thank you," he said politely. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

She was nearly to the embassies when her omni-tool's commlink beeped.

"Shepard," she said briskly, holding a finger to her ear.

"Commander Shepard, this is Garrus Vakarian," the tinny voice said over her earpiece. "Tajaran down at C-Sec gave me a call and said you were looking for me. What's happened?"

"Inspector Vakarian, a pleasure to hear from you so quickly," she answered. "I just tracked down some interesting information. Are you on a secure line?"

"Yes- wait. No. I'm not. Hold on, I'll comm you back."

The line went dead for a minute, then her omni-tool alerted her to an incoming anonymous call. She tapped the "accept" button and cocked her head again. Well-prepared, if he's got a way to be untraceable on hand.

"Commander, it's Garrus. This line is secure," he said quickly. "What did you find?"

Shepard glanced over at the nervous quarian sitting down underneat one of the shade trees on the presidium. "I'm not sure yet," she said, "but I've got a quarian here that Saren, Saren's goons, and Saren's goons' hired thugs all are trying to silence. She claims to have evidence."

"What does she want for it?" the turian's translated voice was skeptical.

"Protection, which is why I'm inclined to believe her."

The fact of the matter was that it was easy to claim you had evidence. To keep claiming you had evidence, even after you were shot twice for it, meant that you were either insane... or telling the truth. That you were willing to give it up freely (well, practically freely) meant that you were insane and telling the truth – at least in Shepard's eyes.

It was a train of thought that Garrus apparently concluded with.

"Huh," Garrus said. "Huh," he repeated. "Okay, she might have something. Where are you now?"

"About five minutes from the human embassy. We're taking her there, and because I'd rather not be near C-Sec when they figure out who blew up Chora's Den."

"Wait, you blew up Chora's Den?"

She smiled. "See you soon, Investigator," she said, and closed the connection.

"Come on," she waved the others toward the embassy. "Let's get out of the open."

Seven minutes later, Ambassador Donnel Udina was not pleased.

He had just received a (respectful, polite, circumspect) notice from some allies in C-Sec that the security footage from Chora's Den had shown a woman that looked suspiciously like Commander Shepard tearing her way through the place, accompanied by Kaidan Alenko of all people... and a krogan.

He rubbed his throbbing temples. He didn't know why she had a krogan, and frankly, he didn't want to know. What he did want to know was where the hell she had gotten off to, why she wasn't answering his calls, and what she was doing storming a criminal den.

Anderson, who had been in the office when the call came in, glanced worriedly at the vein that was throbbing on Udina's forehead.

Behind him, the door hissed open, and he heard the familiar tap tap tap of armored boots on citadel decking. He straightened, letting out an early explosive sigh as he did.

"You're not making my life easy, Shepard. Firefights in the wards? An all-out assault on Chora's Den? Do you know how many-" He choked off in shock as he turned, noticing the retinue she had brought in. Her expression was pleasantly neutral, the same as it always was, but the crowd she had following her...

Kaidan Alenko looked grim. Given what he'd seen the man do in Fist's bar, he wasn't particularly surprised, although he was impressed that the man had apparently managed to clean the blood off of his armor.

The krogan – and, indeed, it was the same scarred krogan that he'd seen – looked almost cheerful. That alone set off alarm bells in his mind, because as far as he was concerned krogan were only happy when they'd just finished a bout of excessive violence or were anticipating excessive violance.

He fervently hoped it was the former.

She also had a nervous quarian in tow, and where she'd picked the girl up he had no idea. Williams was jogging along behind, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and the overzealous C-Sec officer that had botched the initial investigation literally ran in on their heels, panting and out of breath.

It's a regular circus troupe, he thought furiously as his eyes swept over them. All they need is an asari stripper and a hanar and they've got the cast of a Blasto vid.

However, he hadn't gotten his position as ambassador by being stupid, despite what the public (and other diplomats) might think. Shepard, Alenko, and Williams were all known quantities. The krogan was muscle. Skilled muscle, to be sure, and likely dangerous, but muscle nonetheless. He could be ignored. The C-Sec officer, Vakarian, meant that he either knew something or she wanted him here to learn something. In either case, he was also a known quantity.

That left only the young quarian.

"And who's this?" he said, in a much more polite tone. "A quarian? What are you up to, Shepard?"

"The job you requested, sir. I'd tell you, but you seemed more interested in jumping down my throat."

The vein in his forehead throbbed and he rubbed his head. Curse the woman, she was right. After all, she never did anything without reason.

It was why they kept her around at all.

"I apologize, Shepard," he said after a moment to calm down. "This whole thing with Saren has me a bit on edge. Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Miss...?" he trailed off with a glance at the quarian.

"My name is Tali," she said, rubbing her hands together nervously. "Tali Zorah nar Rayyah."

"Out on pilgrimage, I assume?" he asked, and she started.

Truth be told, Udina had a great deal of sympathy for the quarians. They reminded him of the old Earth Roma, or gypsies, wandering a world – or galaxy – where everyone hated them, scrounging as best they could. Of course, it was also his job as ambassador to learn about people. A major coming-of-age rite for the dominant culture for an entire species definitely was on the list of something to be aware of.

The depressing part wasn't that he knew, but that so few others did. It never paid to ignore people. That was how you were blindsided by the unexpected... and given their technical expertise, it was only a matter of time before the quarians made their mark on the galaxy once again. After all, they still had the largest fleet in the galaxy under their banner, and if they ever decided to throw caution to the wind and arm their vessels...

He shuddered to think of the consequences.

"I- yes, yes, I am," Tali said, surprise evident in her voice that someone as high up as he would know of such a thing. "During my travels, I began hearing reports of geth. Since they haven't been outside the Veil in three centuries, I was curious."

"I tracked a patrol of geth to an uncharted world. I waited for one to separate from its unit, then disabled it and retrieved its memory core."

Anderson scowled. "Wait a minute," he protested, "I thought the geth friend their memory when they died. Some kind of defense mechanism."

Tali nodded. "Most mobile combat platforms use volatile storage. Only the deep scouts have memory that persists when power is cut. If you damage one to the point where it shuts down, the memory is simply gone."

She smiled her quarian smile again. "But if you're quick, careful, and lucky, you can disrupt one while maintaining power to the system. It's not perfect, and a lot gets scrambled, but you can sometimes get sensor recordings or other information from them."

"The data from the geth was mostly unusable – random static, or data too heavily corrupted to get anything out of. I managed to get a lot out of the audio buffer, though. It must have been replaying or analyzing some old data when I hit it."

She lifted her omni-tool, tapped a few buttons, and suddenly Saren's voice was sounding throughout the room in all its tinny glory. "Eden Prime was a major victory for us! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the conduit."

Anderson's eyes lit up. "That's Saren's voice! This proves he was behind the attack!"

"Well, the audio alone won't," Kaidan demurred. "Tali Zorah nar Rayyah-"

"Just Tali, please."

"Tali, then – did it have metadeta, logs, anything that proves it wasn't a forgery?"

Shepard nodded. She knew all too well how easy it was to make data like this up out of whole cloth.

Tali nodded. "Each geth assigns its own... I think you would call it a fingerprint to all its sensor data. It's how they record which runtime experienced what. There are also system status updates, sensor metadata, audio gain levels, various filters... any quarian expert will testify that this is from a geth system."

She smiled coldly. "Saren won't get out of this one, then."

"Wait," Tali said, "there's more. Saren wasn't working alone."

She tapped a few more buttons and the room winced as a burst of static emerged, followed by a loud hum and a voice. "And one step closer to the return of the reapers," a female voice said.

Udina shook his head. "I don't recognize that other voice, the one talking about Reapers. It's asari, though, or a very good human speaker."

Shepard stared into the distance, deep in thought. "Reapers... I feel like I've heard that name before," she said, half to herself.

Tali tapped a few more buttons. "According to some of the geth's working knowledge, they were a hyper-advanced machine race that existed fifty thousand years ago. They hunted the protheans to extinction, and then they vanished. At least," she added dubiously, "that's what the geth believe."

Udina folded his arms. "Sounds a little far-fetched."

Shepard blinked.

The beacon's message was a warning.

The protheans were hunted to extinction by these reapers, and then the evidence of it was purged from across the galaxy.

And Saren is trying to use their technology, or worse, bring them back.

"The beacon on Eden Prime..." she said slowly, her mind whirling. "The message it rammed into my brain. It was a series of images and sensations of an alien race being slaughtered by incredibly avanced machines."

Tali spoke quietly. "The... geth revere the reapers as the pinnacle of non-organic life," she read off her omni-tool's notes. "And they believe that Saren knows how to bring them back. Which would explain why they're here now..." she trailed off, letting her omni-tool fall to her side.

The room went silent.

"Well," Udina muttered, "the council's just going to love this."

Shepard was inclined to agree with the man. Even aware now as she was of what, precisely, was at stake... she knew she wouldn't be able to convince them. And why should she? The asari, the turians... they had crawled up and down every inch of the citadel, scoured the worlds, had scientists analyzing prothean ruins for literally thousands of years without turning up anything like this.

Or, she considered slowly, any findings contradicting the groupthink are suppressed because the mountain of existing evidence is so big.

Which unfortunately left her with two very bad choices.

She could go out and try to convince the galaxy that doom was coming, that they needed to take her seriously, and that a turian madman was trying to revive an ancient machine terror to dominate the galaxy.

Somehow, she doubted that would get her very far... unless the goal was to end up in a locked ward wearing a biotic suppressor for the rest of her natural life.

Or she could bide her time, focus on what concrete evidence she did have, and pretend – like she had for so long – to be a good obedient little lap dog, get the selfish racist traitor, all the while working on dealing with the real problems.

That was much more attractive.

Her eyes focused back on the world at hand, and she shook her head slowly. "So don't bring it up. There's no evidence, and even if there was evidence, nobody would believe it."

"No matter what they think about the rest of this, those audio files prove Saren's a traitor," Anderson said firmly.

"The Captain's right," Udina said, sounding almost surprised. "We need to present this to the council right away."

"Alright, you heard the man," Shepard said, turning to face the assembled group. "Head for the Citadel Tower."

Tali started. "All of us?"

Shepard smiled easily. "Yes, all of you. You all helped, didn't you? And I certainly can't explain why a geth data core is legitimate."

"Hrh," Wrex rumbled, his face unreadable.

She made a waving motion with her hands, gesturing them out of the office. "Go! I'll catch up, I need to speak with Udina for a moment."

"You mean to drag them all before the council?" Udina said after they filed out of his office.

She nodded. "I do. Like I said, they all helped me get the evidence, so they should all get public credit."

"I don't know about this, Shepard," he muttered to her. "I'm not sure..."

"It's a great PR opportunity," she said. "The human soldier works with all races to dig up evidence of a traitor, credits the team, and is willing to present them to the council. It costs us nothing, we look good doing it, and we get a huge boost in public opinion from those races. And sure, we might not be able to turn that into money or favors right now... but it never hurts to have more friends, especially when all it takes is a few nice words to get them."

She eyed him levelly. "And if our expeditious uncovering of this earns prize you've been after, well, let's just say I want to have skilled friends in as many places as I can get them. Understand me?"

Udina paused, thinking it over, performing the political calculus in his head before finally nodding. "Fine," he said at last. "I'll make sure they're all allowed in. This had better not backfire, Shepard."

"It won't," she said with an easy assurance. "I'll meet you in the tower, ambassador. Make sure they know we're coming."

She left the room at a jog, and he shook his head as she ran out before reaching for his commlink.

"-the beacon has brought us one step close to finding the conduit," Saren's voice boomed through the chamber again.

They stood there quietly, hands folded behind their backs, as Tali stuttered her way through a quick talk on geth file formats, metadata, and data storage before shrugging helplessly and staring desperately at Shepard.

It was Udina who moved, however, walking to the end of the platform to point an accusatory finger at the council. "You wanted proof?" he said, his voice nearly as booming as Saren's, "there it is. Proof that Saren was working with the geth. Proof that he viewed Eden Prime as a success. Proof that the beacon was destroyed by Shepard after it attempted to deliver a message, and not due to incompetence."

Tali shuffled back to stand behind the group.

She held up remarkably well, in Shepard's estimation. She knew of few humans that could give a technical lecture cold to three of the most powerful people in the galaxy... in public, to boot.

She made sure to give the quarian a big smile when she passed by.

"This evidence is irrefutable, Ambassador," the turian said with a nod at the now-hiding Tali. "Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status and all efforts will be made to bring him in to answer for his crimes."

Tevos looked vaguely shocked, which in Shepard's mind was not a reassuring sign from the most composed and experienced member of the council. "I recognize the other voice, the one speaking with Saren. Matriarch Benezia."

Shepard shook her head. "I am unfamiliar," she admitted.

Tevos inclined her head at the commander. "She is a particularly well-known and respected individual among the asari, beloved for her wisdom and experience. She has..." she paused, searching for words, "many followers. If she has turned traitor alongside Saren..." she trailed off with a worried glance at Sparatus.

He nodded grimly. "She will make a formidable ally for Saren."

"I'm more interested in these reapers," Valern said, poking at his terminal thoughtfully. "What do you know about them?"

Careful, Shepard. Locked wards, remember?

Anderson stepped forward. "Only what was extracted from the geth's memory core," he said with an aside glance at Shepard, who shook her head. "According to the geth, they were an ancient race of machines that exterminated the protheans. Then they vanished."

He continued in the same careful and measured tone. "The geth – along with Saren and Benezia, apparently – believe that the conduit is the key to bringing them back. Saren was searching for it, and attacked Eden Prime to gain access to the knowledge contained in the prothean beacon that had recently been excavated there."

"Do we even know what this conduit is?" Valern asked.

"To be frank, councilor, I don't believe it matters," Shepard said, stepping forward. "If it exists and Saren is seeking it, we can find Saren by also seeking it."

And if it actually gives him access to the reaper's technology, well, all the more reason to stop him.

"A fair point," Valern nodded, "assuming you are not both chasing ghosts."

Sparatus shook his head. "Listen to what you're saying," he said incredulously. "Saren wants to bring back the machines that wioed out all life in the galaxy? Impossible. It has to be. Where did they go? Why did they vanish? How come we've found no trace of their existence? If they were real, we'd have found something!" he nearly shouted.

All excellent questions, councilor, but that isn't the game we're playing today.

Shepard held up a calming hand. "Remember, councilor, that we are seeing this through theeyes – so to speak – of the geth. The geth apparently want to see the return of these hyper-advanced inorganic lifeforms. Saren and Benezia may simply want the aid of the geth in order to find them for the power and knowledge even their ruins might offer, and as such have fooled them into thinking they support the same end the geth do."

Valern nodded enthusiastically. "A highly probably scenario," he said.

"Regardless," she continued, "the fact that the protheans left a warning about these entities in their beacons is cause for some concern. If there was such a power, allowing Saren free reign to pursue it would be unwise, would it not?"

Sparatus shook his head. "Saren is a rogue agent on the run for his life. He no longer has the rights or resources of a Spectre. The Council has stripped him of his position."

"Oh?" Shepard asked mildly. "Councilor Tevos, you mentioned that Matriarch Benezia was a powerful biotic with many followers. Am I to understand that she was also fairly wealthy?"

Tevos nodded slowly.

"And if she has turned traitor along with Saren... then he could have a web of informants and agents, many of whom are powerful biotics, in Benezia's followers. This is in addition to the allegiance of the geth that he has already demonstrated. I do not believe that merely stripping him of the resources you grant him will be sufficient to halt or even seriously hinder his search."

"The Commander's right," Udina said. "You know that he's hiding somewhere in the Traverse. Send your fleet in!" he snarled, clenching his hand into a fist.

"A fleet cannot track down one turian," Valern scoffed.

"A citadel fleet could secure the entire region. Keep Saren and the geth from attacking any more of our colonies."

"Or," Sparatus countered, "it could spark a war with the Terminus Systems! We won't be dragged into a galactic confrontation over colonies you knew would be vulnerable when you founded them!"

Shepard pushed Udina back gently, stepping into his place. "The problem at hand is Saren, correct, not the status of the human colonies in the Traverse?" she asked as Udina glared death at her.

The councilors nodded.

Shepard smiled politely. "So send me. I will take him down."

Tevos smiled. "The commander is right," she said, turning to face Sparatus. "There is a way to stop Saren that doesn't require fleets or armies."

Sparatus deflated slightly, his shoulders drooping. "No," he protested, but it sounded hollow. "It is too soon. Humanity is not ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres."

"You are not required to send your fleets into a situation that might spark a war, and humanity is given the chance to prove its worth," she said. "And furthermore, even if we are not able to stand on our own..." she gestured behind her, waving an encompassing hand at the turian, the krogan, the humans and the quarian that had assisted in exposing Saren's treason, "we are increasingly learning that we are not alone."

Tevos hid a smile and nodded at Sparatus, who sighed.

"Commander Shepard – step forward," Tevos said formally, and Shepard walked to the end of the platform, coming to attention before the council.

From the tall hall and the eaves, a whisper rippled through the room, and the sound of conversations coming to a halt in the chamber was palpable.

"It is the decision of the council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the special tactics and reconnaissance branch of the citadel," Tevos continued.

Valern folded his arms. "Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle, those whose actions elevate above the rank and file."

"Or below them," she heard Udina mutter under his breath.

Tevos lifted her head slightly. "Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the council, instruments of our will."

Sparatus clasped his arms behind his back. "Spectres bear a great burden," he said, and Shepard was almost startled by the honest reverence in his tone. "They are the protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to behold."

Tevos smiled, relaxing slightly. "You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your people."

"Thank you," Shepard said politely. "What is my first assignment?"

She knew, of course, but it was part of the song and dance, the routine that would play out well for the public.

"We're sending you into the Traverse after Saren," Valern said. "He is a fugitive from justice and you are authorized to use any means to apprehend or eliminate him."

Any means. Well. That's one hell of a blank check.

She nodded. Details could come later. "As you command, councilors," she said wit ha slight bow.

"Then I declare this meeting of the citadel council adjourned," Tevos said.

So she's a Spectre now! Wheeee!

Next time: Wrapping up the things that were left hanging in this chapter (how the motley crew becomes the literal crew, where Spectres get their funding, how Shepard decides where to go first, what happens with Chora's Den, what Kaidan wanted to talk to her about, and a short section concerning pants.)

Ooo, hey, we might even see Liara in this story before it hits the 100,000 word mark! That'd be a treat.