Hello again, everyone, and welcome back to my Gears of War/Mass Effect crossover.

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback and support. I really appreciate it. Your ideas have really helped me out.

As always, leave a review, and most importantly, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Gears of War or Mass Effect franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of BioWare, Electronic Arts, Microsoft Studios, The Coalition, Epic Games, etc. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to it's original composers and/or artists.

SSV Normandy

En Route to Citadel

February 1st, 2183

Normally, the team would've gone straight to Feros, except for the fact that the Normandy's crew had eaten through their supply of water and food quite quickly. As such, they had to head back to the Citadel for a resupply on water and food. In addition, the supply run would also give the team some much needed rest from the mission they'd done.

For Marcus, though, it meant another long-ass wait to go on a mission, a wait that would usually spend by sharpening his marksman skills, or exercising, or discussing ideas with Baird on what to do once Saren was either arrested, or dead. As such, he was once more in the firing range, using the practice ammunition. This time, however, he wasn't alone, as Garrus was standing nearby.

The young Turian was watching Marcus with interest as the hardened Gear fired his revolver until the weapon was empty. Just as he was about to reload, Marcus felt the young Turian tapping on his shoulder. Turning to face Garrus, he asked, "What is it?"

"I've been watching you go here to practice your skills," Garrus replied. "I also, for some strange reason, like your firearms. I was wondering if -"

'If you could try your hand at this kind of weaponry?" Marcus finished.

There was a moment of silence, then Garrus said, "Y-yeah."

Marcus stared at Garrus for a long moment, assessing the Turian carefully. Hhmmm… I don't see any harm in it, he decided. Besides, it's good to have skills in more areas than firing mass accelerator weapons. Nodding, he said, "Alright. I'll give ya a shot."

"Thanks," Garrus nodded. With that, Marcus handed him the revolver, but held on when Garrus tried to take it. "What?"

"There are a few things you ought to know, before we get started. Unlike your fancy mass accelerator weapons, these guns will kick quite hard. You're slinging a heavy metal slug down range, not a tiny piece of metal shaved off a metal block. In addition, you need to learn how to reload this properly, otherwise, you'll end up breaking the gun. It might not happen at first, but do it enough times, over a long enough period of time, and you will end up losing a hand. OK?"

"OK."

"Good." With that, Marcus let go of the revolver and let Garrus have it. Garrus immediately noted that it was heavier than most mass accelerator weapons. For some strange reason, though, he found the weight comforting. "How do I aim this?" he asked. "It's not like other mass accelerator weapons."

For the next few minutes, Marcus began coaching Garrus on how to use the Boltok correctly. While it sounded like a complicated and intricate process to Garrus, it was much easier done than said in actuality. "Don't flick the cylinder back into the frame using your wrist," Marcus gruffly informed him. "It looks cool, but you'll bend the crane the cylinder rotates on and then the gun will explode in your hand. Push the cylinder into the frame using your thumb or your hand instead; that's the right way to do it."

"OK," Garrus nodded, as Marcus had him repeat the motion. "This isn't easy."

"It's not, but it's well worth learning," Marcus nodded. Once he was certain that Garrus knew how to reload the weapon, he handed him a speed loader and said, "Here you go. Remember: don't focus on the target with a pistol or revolver. Focus on the front sight instead."

"Got it," Garrus nodded. Picking up the revolver, he loaded the rounds into the cylinder, before pushing the cylinder back into the frame with his thumb. In his large talons, the Boltolk looked a little undersized, though he handled it quite well. Taking aim, he lined up the sights and, following Marcus' instructions, carefully pulled the trigger.

The revolver roared a second later. Garrus felt a shock travel up his arm as the increased recoil pushed back, causing the barrel to rise slightly. There was also a bright flash as power that hadn't burned combusted, momentarily obscuring the target. Firing all seven rounds, he put the revolver down and looked. A frown formed on his face when he saw that his shots were slightly off-center.

Marcus, looking at the powder marks on the target, said, "Not bad for a first time, Garrus. You're riding the recoil, which is why your shots are off, but other than that, you've done quite well."

"Thanks," Garrus nodded. "You're right too: these weapons kick hard. Mass accelerator weapons have a milder recoil impulse. Can I go again?"

"Sure, if you're comfortable with that."

. . .

A few hours later, Marcus was following Shepard out of the Normandy, having arrived at the Citadel. As he walked out with Shepard, Baird and Kaidan, he thought he spotted someone waiting for them at the elevator to C-SEC Academy. The man was tall, with a cap that hid most of his hair, and had piercing green eyes. He also wore an officer's uniform, which immediately identified that he was part of the Alliance's ranking personnel.

Kaidan, apparently, recognized him, as he promptly saluted and said, "Ten-hut!"

"At ease," the Alliance officer replied. "Rear Admiral Mikhailovich. Good to see you, Shepard."

Shepard, who also saluted, said, "We weren't told you were coming sir. I would've prepared a more formal greeting."

"Spare me the pleasantries," Mikhailovich remarked. Looking at Marcus and the others, he said, "I heard about you two. Where are the others?"

"Inside the ship still," Marcus explained.

"I see. In any case, you have my sympathies. It's not easy ending up in an environment that's nothing that you've seen before."

"Thanks."

"So, why are you here, if I might ask?" Shepard asked Mikhailovich.

"I am in charge of the 63th Scout Flotilla. You and the Normandy were slated for our unit after shakedown, then the Council got their claws, paws, tentacles… whatever on our ship, and on you."

Sensing some hostility in Mikhailovich's tone, Shepard said, "I still serve the Alliance, sir. As a Spectre, I can advance our interests to the Council."

"Hmmph. You still remember what color your blood is, Shepard?" Mikhailovich asked dubiously. "Still, I don't begrudge the politician's decision to throw you to the Council. It's an… opportunity. Looking at the Normandy, he said, "What I do begrudge, however, is this over-designed piece of tin."

"Hey, don't diss the ship," Baird frowned. "She's a fucking masterpiece."

"The Normandy's a fine ship, sir. She's served us well so far."

"It's a gimmick, Commander. Useless in a stand-up fight. This experiment diverted billions of credits from our appropriation bills. For the same price, we could've had a heavy cruiser, but no, we had to make nice to the Turians. Throw money at a co-developed boondoggle. I'm here to make an inspection, Commander. Normandy is an Alliance ship. I expect her to be up to snuff."

"We'd be honored to show her to you, sir."

"I won't be long."

True enough, it wasn't only ten minutes before Mikhailovich came back, and he had a fairly cross look on his face. "Commander," he deadpanned, "I am not happy."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Shepard replied.

"Who designed that CIC? Putting the Commander aft of everyone else is inefficient. What if he needs to talk with the operators towards the bow?"

"Modified Turian style. They prefer their commanders to be standing over their subordinates, rather than among them. We wanted to see how effectively they could command with that setup."

"Hhmm, Reasonable goal. But they should've tested it out in a lab, though, rather than a front-line warship. I also had to shake my head at that drive core of yours; a hundred and twenty billion credits of Element Zero just to make this thing able to move without giving itself away. Do you realize we could've made drive cores for twelve thousand fighters with that money? What good is it to hide for a few hours anyway? Useless!"

"Not actually," Baird countered. "We can sneak around under the enemy's nose and report their numbers and composition. We can also stop supplies from getting to them and gather more intelligence on their actual mission. It's not useless. Fighting the enemy's only half the battle; you also have to know how they operate to fight them."

"An interesting point," Mikhailovich conceded. "However, I believe our job is hunt down and destroy the enemy, not count how many times their garrison goes to the bathroom." That was when he let the topic of discussion out. "And then there's your crew, Commander. Asari? Krogan? Turians? What are you thinking, Shepard? You can't let alien nationals have free reign with the ship?!"

Shepard added in his answer for that moments later. "Between Saren and the Geth, we have enough enemies to deal with. Treating other species with suspicion and distrust won't win hearts and minds."

"I agree," Marcus added. "You treat other people like shit, chances are they won't come to save your ass when you need their help the most. Make nice with them, and they might help you out."

"That assumes the hearts and minds are worth winning over in the first place. That hasn't been proven yet," Mikhailovich noted. Still, he could tell that Marcus was right, and since he'd seen the combat footage the Alliance Brass had been granted access to, he knew that Marcus' words carried a considerable level of weight. "Is there anything else you wish to say Commander? Any justifications for the state of this vessel?"

That was where Shepard got very convincing. Clearing his throat, he said, "I think the Normandy is a good ship, sir. Even if you disagree, you have to see that her joint construction and multiracial crew make the Alliance look better."

"Your job is to look good, Commander," Mikhailovich replied. "The Alliance Navy's is to win wars. I'm not convinced that the Normandy isn't a waste of taxpayer money, but I am convinced that you believe otherwise, and that you'll use it to the best of your ability. I'll be submitting a report to the Joint Military Council. It will not be as… negative as I had planned." Moments later, he surprised Shepard by saluting and said, "Good hunting, Shepard. Make us proud."

"I fully intend to, sir," Shepard replied, returning the salute. With that, Mikhailovich left, entering the elevator before the doors closed.

"That went well," Kaidan remarked.

"Yeah," Baird nodded. "I was about to call him out on his bullshit, then he pulls a fucking salute on us. What is wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Shepard added. "I think we just passed a test of sorts. Either way, we've got more business to tend to than that."

. . .

Unfortunately for Shepard and the others, that wasn't the only thing they had to deal with. As the elevator lowered down to the ground, Marcus spotted someone nearby, with what appeared to be a drone hovering next to her. "Aw, shit," he said lowly.

"Fuck," Baird frowned. "Fucking reporters. All the news cares about is smearing someone else while making themselves look good."

"Yeah," Shepard frowned. Looking at Baird, he said, "If she tries anything, shoot the drone. Marcus, if she goes after you and Baird, chew her out. Otherwise, remain cool and calm. Got it?"

"Got it." With that, the elevator doors opened, allowing them to step out into the open. Seeing an opportunity, the woman walked forwards and said, "Khalisah bint Sinan Al-Jilani, Westerlund News. Would you answer a few questions for our viewers?"

"What do you want to know?" Shepard asked.

"You've been given a unique position to represent our race. People want to get a sense of how you'll do that." Pulling up her omni-tool, Al-Jilani activated a function on it, with the drone shining a light onto Shepard. "Humans have been trying to get the respect of the galactic community for twenty six years. With that in mind, what are your feelings on being the first Human Spectre?"

"The Spectres represent the best of every species in the galaxy. To be asked to join them is an honor."

"Some have said your appointment is the Citadel 'throwing humans a bone.' Have you encountered any situations where the Citadel asked you to place it's needs before the needs of Earth?"

"The Council is concerned with the needs of a whole galactic community. We're a part of that community now. Our needs are on their agenda, but we're one of many."

"You really do believe that, don't you? You've been given command of an advanced human warship for your missions. Is there anything you'd like to say about that?"

"Actually, the Normandy was co-developed by both Turian and Human engineers. It's design incorporates many innovations, all of which are classified, I'm afraid."

"So, the Turians have knowledge of the Normandy that's being kept secret from the Alliance?"

Hearing that, Baird flicked the safety off his M-35 Fusilier, but didn't pull it off the magnetic strip that kept the weapon firmly attached to his thigh. Watch it, bitch, he snarled internally. You're starting to get on my nerves.

Fortunately, Shepard could, as he demonstrated in the following questions. "Do you think it was appropriate to hand over Earth's most advanced warship to the Citadel?"

"I wasn't aware it had been 'handed over' to anyone," Shepard replied. "I'm in command, and last I checked, I'm human. The same goes for my crew."

"Human, yes. But you work for the Citadel now. One last question, Commander. Rumors back at home say you're tracking a 'rouge Spectre' named Saren. Do you have any comment on that?"

Baird was about to act when Shepard smoothly handed Jilani. "I'm afraid I cannot comment on what my current mission is at this time."

"Don't worry, Commander. The eyes of Humanity are upon you." Ending the session, Jilani said, "Thank you for your time, Commander. Good luck on your mission." With that, she left, though Baird shot her a venomous look.

"Thank the Allfathers for small mercies," he sighed. "Damn bitch was starting to get on my nerves. I was about to reprogram her drone so that it would shock her and knock her out."

"You really think that would be a good idea?" Shepard asked.

"Not, but I've done it before. Did it to a drill instructor that had a stick up his fucking ass. One of the most satisfying moments of my career, to be honest."

Why am I not surprised, Shepard thought as they proceeded towards the requisition officer's office.

Marcus and Baird were about to follow when Marcus heard his omni-tool chime. Looking at it, he read a simple message. "Heard that you arrived on the Citadel a few minutes ago. Come by the shop when you've got time. -V"

"What is it?" Baird asked.

"Vorenus wants to see us."

"Oh! OH! New guns to use!"

"Yep. Get Cole down here, and Carmine as well. I've got a good feeling about this."

. . .

Once they got to Vorenus' shop, the team found that they had arrived at rush hour, as the entire ground floor of the store was packed. As they entered, Marcus found a pair of Turians looking at the AK-47 he'd seen just a week ago. Seeing him approaching, they turned and looked at him. "Spirits," one remarked when he saw the armor Marcus wore. "Where'd you get that from? A Jihiris?"

"No," Marcus replied. "Custom build." Looking at the rifle the young Turian was holding, he said, "You seem to like that thing."

"I do," the Turian nodded, his green eyes examining the rifle with interest. "My father's always had a thing for old Human weaponry. I didn't understand why until just recently: they're pieces of history. You can learn a lot about the mentality of a nation simply by studying it's weaponry."

"You can," Marcus nodded. "Didn't catch your name by the way."

"Tarquin. Tarquin Victus. You?"

"Marcus Fenix."

"That's a nice name," Tarquin nodded. "My father studied ancient human legends, especially the phoenix of medieval times."

"Your father's a scholar?"

"General," Tarquiin explained. "Adrien Victus is his name."

That had Marcus' attention. His father's a Hierarchy big shot from the sounds of it, he noted. "Why are you here then?" he asked. "Just curious."

"That's alright," Tarquin nodded. "I'm currently on shore leave from the Arcadius. Old ship, going to be retired this year and sent to a ship-breaking yard. I just came by this store and I started looking around. I'm thinking of buying this gun for my dad's collection, as a gift to him."

"You and your father get along well?"

"Yeah, we do. He's hard, but he's got his ways of showing that he loves me. Mom really helps him in that regard. He's always had a hard time expressing his affection for me, but mom helps him find a way."

Marcus nodded. Hearing Tarquin's words reminded him of his own relationship with his father. He had trouble there too. After a moment, he said, "I'd best be going now. Before I go, though, I've got some advice for you."

"Oh?"

"Go easy on your father. He might be hard, but like you said, he loves you. Sometimes, doing the small things with someone like that can really go a long way."

"Personal experience?"

"Yeah."

"OK. Thanks. I hope you have a good day, Marcus."

"You too," Marcus nodded. Even as he walked towards the stairs, he watched as a clerk came over and started talking with Tarquin. He's a good kid, he noted to himself. Might not meet each other again, but then again, stranger things have happened before. Shaking his head, he dispelled the thoughts and advanced up the stairs.

Baird and the others had gone up ahead of him already, though it was clear that Cole had a smile on his face. "Oh yeah!" he beamed. "They gotta stop handin' us toys to play with!" Seeing Vorenus look at him, he said, "Just jokin'."

At that, Vorenus laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the room they were in. "You humans are funny," he chuckled, his mandibles spread slightly and his mouth open slightly, the Turian equivalent of a smile. "Still, I get what you mean. You really like your new gun."

"What's going on?" Marcus asked.

"Got some new toys, Marcus!" Cole beamed. A moment later, he hefted a weapon up for Marcus to see. "Lookie here! Hehe!"

Seeing the weapon in Cole's hands, Marcus took a good long look. The weapon had a drum magazine, like the Boomshot, but that was where the similarities ended. For one, the weapon's fore-end was much slimmer than before, and there was a telescoping stock that, while minimalist in appearance, looked quite sturdy. There were also a pair of holographic sights on the weapon as well. "What's that?" he asked.

"The GL-150 Boomshot," Vorenus explained. "Compared to the older design, I had to reduce the bore to 40 millimeters, but my fellow employees and I created a powerful explosive mixture that compensates for the reduced size. Standard ammunition is a 40x51mm HEDP grenade that's useful against infantry and light vehicles. Penetrates up to six inches of armor.

"As for the weapon, it uses a five round drum magazine and is designed to operate like a semiautomatic rifle. Maximum range is around eight hundred meters with a muzzle velocity of 100 meters/second. Launches using the high-low system used by grenade launchers from 21st century Earth."

"Damn!" Cole beamed. "The Cole Train appreciates explosions!"

"Not bad," Marcus nodded. He had to admit, having a grenade launcher capable of causes massive damage was a useful tool to have in one's arsenal. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Vorenus nodded. Walking over to a crate, he bent down and, opening the crate, reached in and pulled out a weapon before standing up. "I developed this beauty here."

Looking at the weapon, Marcus noticed that it had a passing resemblance to the Torque Bow, but with major differences. For one thing, the two arms that were part of the propulsion system were missing, with the weapon looking more like a conventional rifle than anything. In addition, he thought he spotted a magazine that held what looked like bolts. On the rifle's top, he spotted what looked like a telescopic scope that seemed to have come from a sniper rifle. "What's that?" he asked.

"The M-130 Torque Bow," Vorenus explained. "I know, the name's a little misleading since we replaced the original firing system with a more advanced version, but it has some nods to the old crossbows of the Late Medieval Era. It fires 25mm HEDP bolts that use a combination of mechanical barbs and magnets to stick to a target before detonating. You're looking at around 300 meters/second courtesy of the new design, and we used some eezo to help mitigate the recoil. The bolts aren't as powerful as the grenades from the Boomshot, but you can lay down precision fire with this thing."

"Nice," Marcus nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yep," Vorenus nodded. "The final gift I've got for you today." Reaching down towards another crate, he pulled out another weapon for them all to see.

Baird, who was looking over in his direction, asked, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yep," Vorenus nodded. "The M-99 Longshot. This rifle's new design is courtesy of one of my Turian employees. She was a former sniper in the Hierarchy, but she had a knack for designing weaponry. She was a true artist, I can tell you that."

Walking closer, Marucs examined the rifle with interest. The new design, he noted, had the chamber and bolt located in the stock of the weapon, rather than ahead of the trigger pack. A large muzzle brake was installed on the end of the rifle, and there was a metal reinforced polymer fore-end. A bipod was installed on the very end of the fore-end, and the rifle now had a magazine. A scope was installed on the top, completing the look.

"Nice," he nodded. "What does it fire?"

"14.5x70mm," Vorenus explained. "It's the caseless version of the historic 14.5x114mm cartridge used by the Soviet Union and Russian Federation. You're looking at an anti-material rifle round there. Instead of the usual HESH round, I used an upgraded version of the Armor-Piercing/Incendiary rounds that your older rifles used. With this bad girl, you're looking at a muzzle velocity of 1600 meters/second."

Hearing this, Baird looked as though he'd found out that Sam was going to marry him. "Can I have it?" he asked.

"Of course," Vorenus smiled. "It's yours now, Baird. Also, give my compliments to Garrus Vakarian as well."

"You know him?" Marcus asked.

"His father and I were part of the same unit during the Relay 314 Incident," Vorenus nodded. "We still talk and chat with each other all the time. He's taking Garrus' resignation hard, but I told him that it's for the best. Garrus' career was starting to stagnate; he needed something to keep him moving forwards. You guys provided that."

"Nice to hear that," Marcus nodded.

. . .

The next few minutes were spent exploring the Citadel, with Marcus deciding to take in the sights at the Presidium. Walking around, he noticed a doorway into what appeared to be a waiting room of some sort. He was about to walk through when he spotted an Asari wearing a purple and blue dress. "Hello," she beamed at him. "I'm Nelyna. How can I help you?"

"What's this place?" Marcus asked.

"This is where people come to see the Consort," Nelyna replied. "Some come to her for advice, others have needs that are more private in nature. Anyone is welcome to see her. All they need to do is arrange an appointment."

Marcus raised an eyebrow when he heard that. "Perhaps another time," he noted.

"OK. We can -" Nelyna was interrupted when her earpiece chimmed. "Yes?" she asked. After a few seconds of silence, she said, "Yes, Sha'ira?" A moment later, she said, "Huh. The Consort seems to have taken an interest in you. She's wishing to speak with you."

That got Marcus' attention in an instant. I'm just about to walk away and then this 'Consort' asks me to see her. Hhmmm… something's going on here. After a moment, he said, "Alright. I will."

"Please do."

"Can you show me where she's at?"

"Of course. Follow me." With that, Marcus followed the younger Asari to where the Consort was. Passing by people that were also waiting, he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. I'm guessing that this 'Sha'ira' is the Consort, he noted. Well… I guess we'll find out what is going on soon.

Reaching a closed door, Nelyna said, "She is in this room."

"Thanks," Marcus nodded. As Nelyna left, Marcus waited for a moment, then walked inside.

The room was quite large, and it was decorated quite nicely. He could see a series of couches and seats inside of what appeared to be a depression in the floor, as well as a bed of sorts. Standing in the depression, he could see an older Asari, though her back was turned to him. "You can stand right there, if you wish," the Asari said to him.

"You the Consort?" he asked politely.

"Yes, that I am."

"What do you typically do?"

"That depends. To some, I offer advice… others comfort." She turned around a moment later, allowing Marcus to see her face. He had to admit, she looked quite good in her dress, which was identical to what Nelyna wore. The eyes, however, showed him a person that had lived a long time, and had done much for others. "Now, however, I seek help for a development that has occurred."

"What kind of development?" Marcus asked.

"One of my former clients, a retired Turian General by the name of Septimus Oraka, used to come to me for comfort. However, he asked more of me than I could give, and I had to refuse. Now, he is spreading lies and deceit about me in an attempt to hurt my reputation."

At that moment, Marcus realized what was going on. I get it, he noted. He tried to hit on her, but she declined. Now, he's acting like a kid and making a fuss. Clearing his throat, he asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"I wish for you to speak to him as you would to a fellow soldier. It is my hopes that he will see the error of his ways and cease in his lies about me. If you could do so, I would be deeply grateful, and I would offer you a gift as a result."

Normally, Marcus wouldn't do this out of the kindness of his heart, but he could already tell that Sha'ira was a good person. Hhmm… maybe I can learn more from this 'Septimus Oraka' figure. I have a feeling, though, that Sha'ira is telling the truth, and my gut hasn't been wrong before. "Alright", he nodded. "That I will."

"I am grateful," Sha'ira nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other clients to see."

"I understand. I'll go see to it." Turning around, he walked out of the room and towards the exit. If I were a General, and I needed that level of comfort, I'd be around a bar of some kind.

. . .

It turned out, Septimus Oraka was a little harder to find than Marcus thought. For one thing, there were dozens of bars that were present in Tayseri Ward, and finding Oraka in this kind of a hive of activity was like looking for a needle in a haystack. As such, he decided to start near where the clinic was at.

As such, he found himself entering Chora's Den once again. Apparently, the place was under new management, as the people inside the bar appeared to be happier than they usually were. In addition, the lighting wasn't as garish as it once was. Walking to the bartender, he asked, "Have you seen a certain Septimus Oraka around here?"

"Yeah," the bartender nodded. "What's it to you?"

"Just wanted to chat with him for a bit."

"OK." Pointing towards a table, the bartender said, "He's right there. Just go easy on him; he's really drunk right now."

"Thanks," Marcus nodded. With that, he walked over to the table.

The table had a single occupant: a Turian that was dressed in a casual outfit. A soft cap was over his horned crest, as well as his head, while much of his outfit was made of multiple pieces. It was clear though, from his coordination, as well as his partially glazed over eyes, that he was plastered. Looking up towards Marcus, he slurred out, "Hello there, Human. You want a drink?"

"No," Marcus frowned. "I'm here for different reasons."

"Oh?"

"You're lies are hurting Sha'ira. She wants you to stop."

"Good," Septimus slurred out, before hiccuping a moment later. "Her lies have been killing me for days. I've seen many terrible things in my lifetime, Human. Sha'ira's the only person that helps me forget them."

"Then why spread lies about her?"

That got Oraka angry. "Because she rejected me! ME! Septimus Oraka, General of the Turian Fleets! Do you have any idea what it is like, to wake up screaming from the nightmares?! It's as though I'm in a constant battle to retain my sanity!"

Part of Marcus wanted to deck Septimus right then and there, but the side of him that knew restraint held him back. Hang on a minute. I've got an idea. Clearing his throat, he said, "General, have you ever won a war by moping in a bar?"

While Marcus wasn't the best at persuasion, his remark was just enough to get Septimus to think. "Hah! War," he frowned. "That's what that feels like. How did I let it come to this?" Looking at Marcus, he asked, "So, you think it's that easy, eh? Just sit up and act like a General?"

"It wouldn't fucking hurt to do so. Wouldn't it?"

There was a few moments of silence as Septimus' alcohol addled brain processed those words. "You know what," he slurred out, "you're right. Sha'ira's worth the effort, even if she won't have me back."

"This isn't a place for you, Septimus."

"Alright! I'll go to her, after I've had a cold shower or two." His eyes seemed to regain a bit of clarity for a moment, with the aged Turian sitting up and said, "Say, are you interested in making some extra credits?"

"What for?"

"There's an Elcor diplomat who thinks that Sha'ira gave away his secrets. He believes as such because I told him, but that too is a lie." Pulling out a data pad, he said, "Here. It shows where I got the information from. It was difficult to find."

"Sounds like it," Marcus agreed.

"That it was," Septimus nodded. Picking up a glass, he said, "Here's to soldiers, acting like soldiers." A moment later, he downed the contents in one gulp, before letting the glass fall onto the table. Getting up as the glass came to a standstill, he said, "You know, Human, you might make a good general yourself, someday."

I hope I remain a Gear, Marcus thought as he walked out of the bar with the datapad in his armored 'pack. I wouldn't want to handle the mountains of paperwork and bullshit that would come my way.

. . .

Getting the rest of the debacle handled wasn't too hard for Marcus to deal with. The Elcor diplomat, upon finding out the truth, was quite shocked, though relieved that his secrets were still hard to find. Another had congratulated him, though his Volus counterpart had been rather rude. I really wanted to use him as a softball, he smiled. They're round enough as it is. He chuckled as he entered the room Sha'ira was in.

"Marcus, you are back," Sha'ira beamed. "I just received a lovely letter from Septimus Oraka as an apology for his actions against me. Even the Elcor diplomat has ceased his campaign against me. I am grateful for your actions."

"No problem," Marcus nodded. "Septimus just needed to get with the program again. Glad I managed to do so."

"Indeed," Sha'ira nodded. "I offer you a gift of words, an affirmation of who you are, and a glimmer of who you might become." Looking at Marcus for a second, she said, "I see a man that has been through harsh times, through terrors that threatened to destroy him, yet was able to achieve victory when all seemed lost. Your skin is like the armor that you wear over your body, protecting you from the worst the world has to offer. You are a source of strength and solidarity for those that come to you for help. Remember these words, Marcus, when all seems lost, and they will give you strength."

Hearing that, Marcus was quite surprised. She does have a way with words, he noted. "Thank you," he nodded. "You've got quite the gift, Sha'ira."

"Your are too kind, Marcus," Sha'ira nodded. "I thank you however. Before you leave, I wish to give you something." A moment later, she removed a necklace that she'd worn around her neck. "A trinket, with a secret of it's own," she explained. "Now go, Marcus. Remember my words."

"That I will," Marcus nodded. Turning around, he strode out of the door in a surprisingly good mood. There's one thing I know that she doesn't, though: those words are far closer to the truth than she realizes.

JumpingToaster: I know what you mean. Wrex is a good example of how looks can be deceiving. He might appear to be a meathead, but there's a surprising level of intelligence between those eyes of his.

MarauderPrime12: Thank you.

bmanbeast57: Interesting.

hellion117: Possibly, in the form of more Gears from that universe.

Guest: Wowzers indeed.

edboy4926: Thank you.

Guest: I'm happy to hear that. Thank you.