"No kidding? You met her?" Anderson swiveled in his chair aboard the SSV Einstein, ironic that it was the same ship he served on during the Massacre of Mindoir. Now he was receiving well-tidings of the sister John had lost. How strange life was. Unfathomable really. When Kahlee contacted him about their run-in with Cerberus, the last thing he expected was to learn that Jane Shepard had not only been present on the Migrant Fleet, but helped repel a boarding party. He'd been worried about what had become of the young woman after assassins and cyber-warfare techs threatened his project, ultimately driving him from the citadel. There had been no choice but to flee, cutting off contact with the galaxy in the process. The survival of the human race was at stake, and even the most sacred of obligations fell to the wayside in its midst. Kahlee had a closed QEC connection with the ship and was his sole contact outside of the Hawking Eta star cluster.

"She's a bright young woman. And must have incredible biotics. You know, she has an inhibitor on her wrist? I didn't know it was possible to use biotics with one of those on. I almost offered her a place at the Ascension project, but with everything going on with Cerberus…"

"You did the right thing. Besides, it sounds like Shepard's old crew is taking care of things. . . It's…" He trailed off. Losing Shepard had hit him hard. Council duties, quickly followed by endless brainstorming and cross-species politicking, kept him beyond busy. There hadn't been an opportunity to think, much less mourn. So, the moments snuck up on him, slamming him grief.

"David? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. It's good to know he finally made some decent friends before the end though."

They chatted for a few more minutes before bidding one another farewell. Both had obligations that continuously pulled them apart. And he was due on the flight deck, hoping to personally welcome Kirrahe and his men back after a supply run. He owed the salarian a great debt. Without the Major, he never would've managed such a sly retreat from council space. And their interests, not to mention frustrations, were aligned. He was a natural choice for second in command of the greatest undertaking of the millennia, and he was willing to make the sacrifices necessary to oversee it.

"My apologies for the tardiness Major." Anderson started, only to be waved off by the salarian.

"It's just Kirrahe now." A beaming smile. "Pretty sure the STG has disavowed me, not that I care. Those dullards have their heads so far up their cloacas it's a wonder they noticed my absence at all."

"I don't care what the politicians say. You earned your rank. And I fully intend for you to maintain the title aboard any Alliance vessels."

After Virmire, the Captain was promoted to Major, only to quit within a few months when the Salarian Union, under council direction, backslid on the reaper menace. He took with him what was left of the 3rd infiltration regiment, along with some of the sharpest minds in salarian society – the very scientists whose research had been canceled with Shepard's death. Merely a handful of scientists followed Kirrahe during his vocal withdrawal from STG, but the clever little bastards never ceased to amaze him. Their innovations were revolutionary. He often found himself marveling at the models they constructed, breathing life into this old man's daydream.

While the experts worked tirelessly alongside Alliance engineers, debating non-stop over which region of space would suit their needs, the 3rd infiltration regiment was slated to guard the galaxy's last hope with utmost severity. Under the guise of pirate activity, any ship, satellite, or info-gathering drone that ventured too close was obliterated. Com buoys were destroyed. Only two closed-loop QEC devices had been installed aboard designated ships. The project ran dark.

The number of members permitted to leave the Schwarzschild System could be counted on one hand and all were lead by Kirrahe. These expeditions had one purpose. Resource gathering. Fifty tug boats currently surrounded them, filled to the brim with a wealth of precious metals. Now that they had settled on a location, their blue-prints could be fine-tuned to the planet's rotation. It was difficult to believe how far they'd come over the past nine months.

"I was hoping to get your thoughts on bringing in the quarians. Their society is secretive enough, and we certainly could use the technical expertise."

"Mmm." Kirrahe steepled his fingers. "Which Admirals specifically?"

"I hadn't gotten that far."

"I'd tap Rael'Zorah. And not merely because of Miss Tali's role in bringing down Saren. He has the people's ear, access to the best and brightest techs, and is an engineering savant himself. He'll see the merit in our vision. That said, he's very conservative. Believes in an insular society within the Fleet. Be prepared to offer quite a lot to gain his support."

"If they help, the quarians will have an equal voice in what we're building, a place to call home. I don't see what else I can offer."

"You plan to give them a seat on the new council?"

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"You'll need a governing body for all this."

"Well, whatever we form, all species who contribute will have a place. And the quarian government accepted that the reapers are real. They understand the threat of rogue AI, and stand to gain a great deal by joining our partnership."

"He'll want more. I guarantee it."

Thirty minutes later, Anderson relayed his desire to contact Admiral Rael'Zorah to Kahlee, who hooked up the connection. The Admiral flickered to life. And it didn't take an expert in xenopsychology to read hostility in the man's posture.

"So, the infamous councilor is alive after all." The quarian huffed, arms crossed. "Are you here to make good on this ridiculous, not to mention costly, matter of transporting Jane Shepard?"

One thing Anderson always appreciated about quarians was their ability to cut straight to the chase. "Yes actually. I have a project that needs every technically-oriented mind possible. And these experts have to be willing to cut off contact with the rest of the galaxy."

"So far all I've heard is how we can help you with… whatever it is you're up to."

"I wasn't finished. You know what's on the horizon, the reapers are coming. Are you familiar with ancient human religions?"

"Hardly." The man scoffed.

"There's an old tale called Noah's Ark, where the entire globe flooded and in order to preserve our diverse wildlife, humans built a boat with which they weathered the storm; bringing with them every species on the planet."

"So you're building a giant ship? The hell do I care? Why would the quarians bother with your species exodus from Earth? Ships are the one thing we ..."

"Until you join up, I cannot reveal exactly what this project is. There are no digital records. Everything is on paper. It cannot be hacked. Outside the star cluster, no one even knows we exist. Join us, and you will have a voice in the one power that will remain after the reaper invasion."

"And the price?"

"I need every engineer and mechanic you can spare. The best and the brightest. We've already partnered with a rogue group of salarians, and soon we'll have the backing of a dalatrass."

"You ask a lot human. With only vague promises of future gains."

"Tell me what you want then."

"Alliance support when we retake the homeworld."

"That's..." Anderson leaned forward. "Are you joking? Going after the geth will weaken us both, hurting our chances further when the reapers arrive."

"Then think of it as eliminating the reaper's allies."

Anderson knew the signs of a hooked fish. The Admiral was intrigued when he mentioned the formation of a new council, a new heart of power for the galaxy. They argued over details for another hour, eventually settling on Alliance supported strike-ops in geth space. And they parted on far more affable terms than the foot they started on.

With another partnership secured, Anderson retired for the evening – heading directly from the com room to his modest quarters. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself a bit of sentimentality. Drifting back to when he first met Shepard, and the heart-wrenching decision the Alliance made.

SSV Einstein
Days after Mindoir Raid
David Anderson

After a few days in a bone regenerator, along with a course of strong anti-inflammatory meds, they could finally see a face behind the mass of swollen flesh. They could finally see John Shepard – a strong, strapping lad with sun tousled hair. The boy looked as though he stepped out of a promotional pamphlet for Colonial Affairs. Even after everything he'd been through, there was an innocence about that kid he hoped to preserve.

Anderson made a point of checking on John's progress daily – before and after he rotated on duty. The kid only had one thing on his mind. His little sister. And with each day, the AML Amstridian ventured deeper into the Terminus Systems. They needed to strike soon. Otherwise, every other Mindoir survivor would be out of their reach.

He halted at the bridge, saluting Captain Richardson. "You wanted to see me sir?"

"They say you're the one who was first on the scene when we found the boy." the Captain's voice was grave. He stood at parade rest, staring blankly out the port-side window.

"Yes sir."

"I just got word from command. The AML Amstridian is a Hegemony ship, and already in batarian space. This wasn't some rogue faction. Attacking would mean war with the entire batarian empire."

"What are you saying?"

"We've been ordered to stand down."

"Sir!" Anderson's eyes snapped up, all formality forgotten.

"There's nothing I can do. Attacking would start a war."

"This was an act of war! What are we supposed to tell our colonists? Here's a gun! If batarians show up be sure to shoot your kid so they aren't subjected to rape, torture, and whatever the hell else these monsters dream up. They're probably gonna sell those kids to a brothel! And those are the lucky ones! Are you seriously gonna stand there and say we're doing jack shit about it?"

"That's enough!" The captain bellowed. "I don't like it either. But this comes from the top. We can't afford a war with the Hegemony. They were active members of the galactic community while we were writing tales of resurrections on stone tablets. They practically run the Terminus Systems."

"How the hell am I gonna tell this kid that we're abandoning his entire colony? For Christ's sake, they took his nine year old sister."

He sighed. "I was hoping you'd have a few ideas. Look, if you can't do it….."

"No. It should be me. I was the first person he saw and…. I'm closest thing he has to a familiar face."

The kid had been so badly beaten, they weren't certain how he was conscious. The ship physician had to perform several laparotomies to staunch the internal bleeding, not to mention the numerous broken bones. He'd been extremely lucky that one of his shattered ribs hadn't punctured a lung. Otherwise, he would've drowned in his own blood long before their patrol encountered Mindoir's distress signal.

Every step to the medbay was torture. The last he checked, John had been knocked out, still recuperating from his most recent surgery. Unfortunately, fate wasn't so kind.

There he was, standing on two feet, his sole concern the AML Amstridian and a girl named Jane. There was an innocence in that boy that was about to be broken. For just a moment, he hesitated. Wanting nothing more than to prolong it – John Shepard's last day as seeing the galaxy from the eyes of a child.

"Sir!" The boy jumped up. "Sir! Have they found them yet? Did you kill them? And Jane? Is she okay? She's the one with dorky red hair. Very red. You can't miss her."

"You shouldn't be out of bed this soon after surgery. You'll pull your stitches." Anderson guided him back to the gurney, pressing gently on his shoulders, ensuring he actually sat. "We need to talk."

"Oh god, they killed her didn't they?"

"No..."

The boy sagged in relief. It was painful to look at.

"The Amstridian..." He could lie, say that the ship was beyond their reach. In a sense, it was. Attacking it would endanger every colony they had, and the truth was the Alliance wasn't prepared to defend them. They expanded too fast. But that was the cost of progress. At least, that's what the brass would say. "John, we… can't attack the Amstridian."

"Wha..." Eyes wide in disbelief.

"The Hegemony is a powerful empire. Their ships are more advanced than ours. If we strike, it would mean war with the Terminus Systems."

For a moment, Anderson wondered if the boy had been struck speechless. His breathing grew rapid, shallow. When he finally spoke, his voice was a grating rage – almost unrecognizable. "They took EVERYONE they didn't kill. EVERY woman and child they could get their filthy hands on… hunted them down like animals and you're just…. leaving them?" His voice cracked on the last two words, fists balled at his sides.

"There's nothing we can do. The Hegemony is too powerful."

Anderson reached to clasp him on the shoulder, but the boy threw him off. "Get the fuck away from me! You're the Alliance. You're supposed to protect us! What the hell? They're still alive! And you're not even gonna try?"

Until this point, the boy had been shockingly stoic. Now he was trembling from head to toe, disbelief cascading over him. "Oh Janey. Little Janey. And Kristy…. And Smitty and ..." John grabbed a medical tray and threw it at him, roaring. "Do you know what they're gonna do to them? Do you even care? They're better off dead!"

"I'm so sorry."

The boy began hurling everything in sight. A snarl on his lips. Tears poured down his face. A couple guards moved to restrain him, on their heels a nurse entered with a syringe full of sedatives. But Anderson intervened. As far as he was concerned, John had every right to be enraged. It's not like the kid could match a highly trained marine, and this was less traumatizing than tying him down and sedating him. He dodged every poorly aimed weapon John hurled at him, let the brass pay for the trashed medbay. It was the least they could do.

Eventually, exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, and Anderson carried him back to the bed. John pushing against his chest, squirming to get away, resisting any effort to help. Blood stained his hospital gown, trickling to the floor. "Screw off. You shoulda left me in that sewer."

The doc nearly had a conniption fit over the pulled stitches, but as far as Anderson was concerned, it was a small price to pay and better than the alternative.

Two Days Later

"I've forwarded your intel to Alliance Command." Anderson tried.

Shepard just stared absently at the wall behind him. Silent.

"If we ever catch that ship in Alliance space again, we shoot to kill."

"Too little too late." The kid muttered miserably, turning away. He was finally listening to the doctor's orders, and staying in bed. Yet, it was more out of defeat than compliance.

"How old are you son? You're not of age, I can tell that much."

There was a pregnant pause before a much softer, despondent voice answered. "Sixteen."

"And there's no one we can contact on your behalf? No family back on Earth?"

"I've never even been off of Mindoir. Everyone I know is either dead or enslaved."

Anderson let that sink in for a few moments. Maybe it was crazy, he didn't know the first thing about helping a traumatized kid. But he couldn't leave the boy like this. He was a good kid, straight off the farm. A group home would eat him alive. "If you want, you can stay with me. I live on the California coast – San Francisco to be specific. I'm not home much, so you'd be left to your own devices. But it's better than a group home."

"I never want to see you again."

"Well, I'll have the forms drawn up and delivered. If you change your mind, all you have to do is sign. Please consider it. Group homes are rough."

They touched down in Vancouver three days later. And while John had refused to speak to him, a small data pad found its way into his hands. "He signed it this morning." The nurse informed him. It was a small gesture. An olive branch.

Yet, the foster system didn't like the accommodations. Apparently, a studio apartment was 'unfit' as they required all fosters to have a room of their own. More bureaucratic bull shit, as far as Anderson was concerned. They shipped the boy off to a group home. Fifty cots to a room, mostly filled by seasoned thugs. Talk about nonsensical. He tried. God he tried to keep in contact with John. But he slipped away.

It was a year before their paths crossed again, and the boy was no longer a boy, but hardened young man living on the streets of San Francisco – a drug runner for the Tenth Street Reds. And he made damn sure it was the last time John Shepard slipped through the cracks of the system.

A/N: So, this is a hint at what Anderson is up to, and a subtle peek into some plans for the reaper war. As for Kirrahe, I really didn't enjoy his portrayal in ME3. After what he went through on Virmire investigating Saren's base of operations, I highly doubt he'd just stand by while the leaders of the galaxy tossed out what he sacrificed men and shed blood for. Also, the salarian army is portrayed as mainly an intelligence gathering force. The council essentially tells you they sent spies to Virmire, meaning he would have to have a solid grasp on politics, cultures, enemy tactics etc. Here is a direct quote from the ME1 codex:

Conventional wisdom holds that the salarians know everything about everyone, and this is not far from the truth. In war, the unquestioned superiority of their intelligence services allows them to use their small military to maximum effectiveness. Well before fighting breaks out, they possess complete knowledge of their enemy's positions, intentions, and timetable.

So, I never really pictured Kirrahe as a 'leave it to the dalatrass' type. He's more than a marine. In this fic, he's incredibly sharp, with a firm grasp on even the most elusive species' governments. (Such as his advising Anderson on the quarians.) I also felt like it would've been impossible to win the reaper war if absolutely NO ONE prepared in the years Shepard was dead. And even then, should it be won, it will be by the skin of the organics' teeth.

Anyhow, this chapter was just a hint at future plans. Since Jane runs into Kahlee Sanders aboard the fleet, it felt like a good place to insert some background on Shepard and Anderson. We will hear more from Anderson and Kirrahe later on, and I'll confirm what 'the project' is exactly. Although, perhaps you guys have sussed that out? :p

Search: Cap. Kirrahe 'Hold The Line' Speech Typography in google and it's the first result

Here's the video I refer to for motivation while fleshing out Kirrahe's character. This isn't the inspired by chapter, that comes later, but I don't want to forget this little gem down the line.

I completely forgot to link the song that the last chapter was written to. Suddenly, Death Didn't Feel So Alone belongs to the beautiful cords of Stringing Him Along – Say Something. An absolutely breathtaking cover song. The title is a play on Shepard's character song, but I'm not giving that one away until he's seated around a table with his best friend learning about Jane. It was the scene and song that inspired a lot of this pre-me2 stuff anyhow. And so much more. :)

Anyhow, we'll be returning to Tali and Jane in the next chapter. Hopefully, it's not too disjointed for people. It's one of my concerns but it's in the nature of this fic to switch perspectives as there is a lot going on.

Before I forget, there were some minor but embarrassingly frequent corrections to the last chapter. Nothing plot-wise was changed, but a few sentences were re-arranged for better flow along with some spelling issues. Again embarrassing. It's been a few weeks so pardon my sleepy mistakes. :p I also caught the issues within a few hours of posting, so I'm not sure how many people read the original version.