Chapter 2: Mako, Squadmates and Food

He wasn't entirely sure how to approach the choices in front of him. Once Shepard had gotten the Krogan bounty hunter on board, she had reached out through the channels to call him to the docking bay. It had been Bailey who had suggested he pack a bag. Garrus looked around the room, his apartment seemed to close in on him, trying to expel him. He thought it fitting. However, what was he supposed to do? Show up at the docking bay with a bag over his shoulder in an act of uninvited declaration that he was going to go with her? With them. The Alliance.

The Alliance was an official military branch of the Humans. He knew it stemmed from their homeworld, Earth, had been water barring forces before turning into their spacial fleet. It was an impressive force, he would have to say - even if young in comparison to the old and long adjust Turian fleets.

How was he supposed to just walk up to an Alliance military craft and then board it? He frowned at the thought but shook his head at it. Didn't matter.

He was going to go.

So, he packed a bag, an old military style thing that had been slid into a storage shelf inside his closet unraveled and he dusted it off – years of not being used evident in the stiffness of his once ever accompanying item. This had been his room at one point. This tote. A soldier's bedroom. He let the stiff fabric play under his talons before he quickly began to pack. There wasn't much he would take. A few extra pieces of clothes, two books, mostly he took his tool bag and the four binders of details of the turian Spectre he hated most. Turians were simple in their needs. Food. Water. Armor. He looked at his image in the mirror and chuckled at the last bit. All he had was the C-Sec armor, it would have to do for now. Perhaps he would begin to acquire his own set while they visited spaceports. It was an intriguing thought to have your own armor, not issued.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder he reached out and grabbed the one thing he knew he could not forget. With a small grin at the tiny memento, he tucked it safely into his pocket and left his apartment without a backward glance. It wasn't a sad moment in his life, but it was one that held a vibrant meaning he would find out later. That decision. That resolve to go and join this mission. The mission.

Shepard was leaning against the railing when he arrived. Her back was to him, and her eyes were settled on the ship in front of them. He followed her gaze and read the name, Normandy. Normandy, why did that sound so familiar? Garrus' brow plates shifted, and he felt his left shoulder shift and stiffen as he adjusted his pack and thought quickly over the details he was looking at. The Normandy…. SSV Normandy SR-1. There is was, realization. It was the System Alliance Space Vehicle that had been co-developed by the Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy, named after a long ago battle in the Second World War of the humans. The significance of that battle was unknown to him, but it had been an important and emotionally charged name upon its creation. The hope of the two species' fragile alliance after the Frist Contact War. The best of both species coming together to create something that had never been done before. He made a noise behind his mouth plates that was equal to that of a whistle in a human but was more of a click coming from him. It was enough to draw the attention of the Commander and she looked over her shoulder and straightened to turn to him fully. Her calm demeanor shifting effortlessly into one of protocol and authority.

"She's a beauty," he would tell her as he came to stand before her, his hand gripping the strap of his bag and he watched in silence as she noticed it then looked back to him to catch his gaze. Still the green was so uncommon in a world of bright neons of blue and white on reflective metal.

"Glad to see you made it," she would say, looking at the Normandy she nodded, and a small airy sigh followed the gesture, "Just got the news that she's mine to lead."

It must have been a big moment because he could swear he saw something tug at the lines of her face. The moment wasn't a happy one – it should be a happy one. To be asked to lead a vessel like this with his brood would have invoked pride and on air of respect. Shepard seemed almost…disappointed. That wasn't the right word here. He didn't know what the word was.

"Not up to your liking?" He asked and stepped closer to her. Again he felt the bubble of her personal space acutely as he did so. It welcomed him in, even as it kept him vividly aware to stay out.

"Its not that," the words came forth in a hushed whisper as she turned to look up at him, "I feel like I stole it right out from someone who is …" she didn't finish the admission and he could almost see the walls slam behind her eyes. A steel plating of protection and self-preservation came between the admission and the matter at hand. "You came packed," Shepard changed the subject with a slap of authority in her words.

"Told you, I was coming with you."

It was all he knew to say. Gray-blue eyes held green for a long moment as neither she nor he wanted to be the first to break. He was stony behind his own gaze, daring her to argue, daring her to tell him he wasn't allowed aboard her ship while she chased after his prey. But the denial never came, the turn away was never broached. Instead, Shepard nodded and motioned for him to follow her up onto the Normandy's ramp and into the airlock. "I knew you would," she admitted with a smug little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I could use your expertise on the matter and definitely your advice on the situations we will face."

He wasn't expecting her to say any of that as he ducked his head and entered the hall of the ship. His gaze drifted and he turned his attention to the left into the cockpit where a team sat at their stations, the hat sitting on the pilot's head was not indicative of proper dress and he frowned at the strange chair he was sitting in. He had little time to react as she led him through the Communications Center or "CIC" as she called it before they were walking down narrow steps to rest on another landing. She had motioned passed the curved hallway and spoke about the med bay, mess, and the battery – hesitating only slightly when she stated her personal quarters were located to the left and the crew quarters sat nestled behind them in various rooms.

He followed her again as the elevator came and they fell another level to a cargo bay that housed what looked like their armory and a Mako. A Mako? He frowned in confusion, but it didn't level out the excitement that ebbed into him. The Mako was a legendary vehicle that had been something resembling a tank but moved like a well oiled machine. It was fast, strong, and damn near invincible. The Turians had found them admirable in the war, even if a bit clunky. He wondered if she would allow him to examine it. To study it. He eyed it appreciatively until he noticed that she wasn't talking to him, and he looked to her.

Her face was set in something close to amused patience.

"Sorry," he dipped his head and tried to offer her a smile, but it only resulted in a shift of mandibles and a raise of a plate. She grinned wider and shook her head.

"Feel free to take a look at anything we have on this ship, Officer Vakarian," it was permission and she had stated it loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it. A murmur followed the words, and he could see the tension of her spine before she looked past him and eyed the crew. All human. All wary of her permissions given. "We are all in this together," she told them. It was his turn to see her finally show an emotion other than determination and inquisition. "If there is a problem with my direct command, bring it to me. I will not allow discrimination on this ship. I will remove you immediately if I find any."

Another murmur, but then salutes and confirmations followed. He eyed her cautiously, "Should I salute as well, Commander?"

It wasn't meant to be funny. It had been an honest question, but for some reason she chuckled and shook her head, "No, Officer Vakarian, no need to salute me." She paused as she started to turn away from him to leave him here, then looked at him sideways and added, "And it's just Shepard."

"Garrus then," he nodded once, and she met his gaze and nodded before finishing her complete turn and leaving him standing alone in the cargo surrounded by unfamiliar and extremely hesitant faces of her crew.

Turians do not get nervous. He turned to look around the room taking, pointedly looking at each person that was looking at him. The majority were already going back to their tasks at hand, one female was openly glaring at him and he couldn't decide if it was pure hatred or open curiosity. She was hard to read. It was only as his gaze shifted along her features that he realized she had been one of the two officers that had been present with Shepard on the Citadel. He figured, this would be the best time to introduce himself. He walked towards her, his gaze looking towards the row of lockers there and he eyed the names assigned before coming to stop a few meters away. It was the the armory port, he decided by the plethora of mods and weapons she had sprawled out on ther work station, "You were with Shepard when the Council made its decision." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she said tightly.

"So it is true?"

"What?" She clapped back.

"Saren is officially not a Spetre?"

The woman eyed him suspiciously and then seemed to weigh her options. She could openly speak to him or she could continue to be reserved. It was her choice, he wasn't about to lose sleep over it. He waited as long as a minute before she sighed and cleared her throat, "He isn't."

Garrus found the news, the affirmation, came with a warmth to it. A slight calm of something close to vindication, but not entirely enough to be vindicative. "That is good."

"It is," she would confirm, still tight-lipped. "Gunnery-Chief Willams," she said suddenly and the click of her heel made it seem like she was going to salute, however, she offered her hand instead.

He regarded it carefully and then took it, one shake and she released him as if his own hand had burned hers. He noticed her wipe it on her hip before he answered her in kind, "Garrus Vakarian, I am glad that someone skilled is handling the weaponry," he said to her – a compliment. She looked behind her at her workstation and then eyed him even more suspiciously before shrugging one shoulder and turning herself completely away from him. Effectively dismissing him from their one-on-one.

Garrus looked to her back before turning and making his way over to the Mako. Shepard had said he was allowed to look and study and he was going to do so. He threw his bag down and eyed the machine with appreciation. It was massive and he didn't understand how it fit in the bay with there still being so much room. A three fingered glove came to caress the door, the metal was painted a dusty tan with spackles of rust and it was was heavy and solid. He knew that nothing short of a damned direct missile strike to a point of weakness would get through the plating here. Now he needed to figure out where the weakness was – and find a way to get rid of it.

"You think it wise, kid," a deep and gravely voice came from behind him and he jerked his attention to rest on the Krogan he hadn't noticed. Dangerous. How could he have not been aware of this monster's presence. And a monster the beast was. Double his size in muscle and seemingly half as large as the Mako, a real Krogan battle master stood before him and he dropped his hand to the gun – well where his gun usually would have been. If the blood between the humans and his kind was bad – the blood between the Krogan was downright spoiled. Diseased.

"Wise?" He questioned.

"Talking to the humans," he nudged his large head towards the GC and then chuckled low in his throat, dangerously, "Just so they can shoot you in the back."

Garrus glared at him with an air of Turian annoyance. "Not everyone has a target on their back worth shooting," he openly eyed the hump that was covered by red krogan armor before catching the dark red gaze of the brute. It wore a wide and grimacing smile. Almost a snarl. Before another bark of laughter fled from it and he reached out with surprising speed and dexterity to clap Garrus on the back hard and unyielding. He took one single step forward to steady himself.

"That quad of yours is welcomed," the krogan would admit before saying further, "The name is Wrex, Urdnot Wrex – it's good to know I'm not alone surrounded by these…" he glared around him with distrust, "Bags of meat."

Leave it to a Krogan to take things down to such a vulgar level. Garrus nodded once, "I know who you are, Wrex." He shook his head, "I interrogated you about Saren."

Realization came to the krogan, and he nodded, "Knew you looked familiar," he didn't say more but he did growl a little. "Not too fond of Saren. Told the female human I am going to kill him. She seemed to be okay it."

Saren's death would be a welcomed event, Garrus was sure of it.

"I suppose if it brings justice to all this, his death will be acceptable no matter who's hand its done by."

Wrex hummed in annoyance and in acceptance of the statement. "I still don't like that I am surrounded by humans," he shook his head, "Too much soft talk and no real fight. This Shepard…." He trailed off and looked around him, "Don't know what to think yet."

It was the first time he had actually talked to a Krogan he realized. Every other time he had communicated with one of the brutes it had been in an interrogation room or in a shoot out brought on by criminal activity. Most Krogan were just guns for hire. They had little use for communication other than what sounds came from the barrel of a gun. He found it intriguing that this Wrex had a throught process at all. His mandibles twitched at the thought. Krogan could not be all brutes, there had to be some thinkers in their society. Right? Or was this a fluke. A Krogan seeking out a Turian as they are both outnumbered by a species that both hated.

Hatred.

Garrus realized quite suddenly that he didn't hate humans. The Turian brood had hated them. Over the last few decades, however, hate deflated into distrust and weariness. Garrus had been brought up knowing that humans were a second-class species and that they were not on par with the brood. They did, however, sit several notches about the Krogan clans. He eyed Wrex curiously as he found no hate for him either. More annoyance than hate.

"Stop staring at me," Wrex grunted out and turned away to stalk away. He didn't seem uncomfortable but agitated. Perhaps he too was tired of the old wounds trying to stay open. Garrus sighed and followed him across the room, careful not to step too quickly as his long legs would easily out match Wrex's squat ones.

"Forgive me," he would hear himself say before he stopped short and realized he didn't know what more he wanted to say. What could he say?

Wrex waved at him, "I don't need your apology, bird," he sneered the word in an attempt to insult Garrus, but the turian had no clue what a bird was so – "I'm used to it."

"Most Krogan I meet aren't full of thought," he would say in rebuttal to the bird comment. Appropriate back and forth was required here.

Wrex chuckled loud at it, "We are not known to think, we do what we do best, fight – money is required to survive and so we fight for it."

The logic there was solid. "Why do you not trust the humans then, they pay you?"

Wrex eyed him wearily and Garrus found himself looking at someone old. Far older than he would ever be. There was a wisdom that softened the blood red eyes and a quick tilt of the brows that rested over them. A realization of complete and utter exhaustion slammed forth from the Krogan and Garrus got it. Immediately, he just knew. He was tired of it too.

"Sometimes," Wrex bit out, "You just have to play nice."

The conversation went no further than that. Both Garrus and Wrex turned and walked away from each other. It had been a slow haste of a retreat. Not necessarily a rush, but definitely an understanding that the conversation was done and neither of them wanted to be in the other's presence any longer. Garrus decided he should walk the ship. He was to be calling it home for an unknown amount of time and it was in his nature to know his surroundings.

In a Turian vessel, the Vakarian name held weight. His own service history added to the respect placed on the name. Here though, in this alien craft, he was no one. He was as distrusted as the enemy. Anger flared inside of him at the thought. To be placed in the same level of distrust as Saren was more of an insult than he could bare. He glared at the door of the elevator as he made is way up to the level just above the cargo. This was where the mess hall was.

Garrus moved easily enough, the engineering of the Normandy, though still tight, was tall. Turian workers had made sure to be able to stand as the worked, he only needed to duck through doorways. He was used to that. He looked around the room and looked to the kitchen sitting in the middle of it. With a slow gait he made his way to it and was about to open up one of the cabinets when a timbered voice interrupted him, "There isn't going to be any dextro available."

He looked to the voice and noticed the dark-haired soldier that had been with Shepard when they first met.

"Lieutenant Alenko," he offered the name freely and there was a kindness to his approach that Garrus found more suspicious than the outright disdain he's been encountering. He reached his hand out to grab Alenko's already outstretched one. "Kaidan, if it makes it easier," the man offered and then crossed his arms and looked back to the cabinets. "I think the Doctor has your kind of food."

Why?

Garrus frowned at the thought. His food wasn't clinical or pharmaceutical. "Garrus Vakarian," he said lamely and eyed the medbay on the other side of the room.

"No reason for it," Kaidan would say as if he had read Garrus' mind. "You're just the first turian we've had on board, I'm sure we will stock up at the next port."

So the rations in the medbay were emergency for turian. It made something shift inside him that he was acutely aware was gratitude towards the Normandy. Even in their distrust of his species, they had had emergency rations to aide one of his kind if need be. The kindness in that act anchored him to the ship itself for a brief moment before he was able to actually process any words to follow it. "Well prepared."

Alenko shrugged one shoulder and then motioned him to follow him, "Come on, I'll introduce you to Chakwas."

Garrus followed to be polite and to meet the person who would ultimately be responsible for his food rations. It unnerved him that someone was guarding them. He frowned at it, his subvocals clicking in distaste. Treated like a varren. When they entered the med bay he glanced around lazily, it was normal in its design, but he noticed there were almost surgical equipment grade processes in the far end of the room where four stations set darkened by the lights not needing to be on. He followed Kaidan to an older human with graying hair and a quiet air about her.

"Karin," Alenko greeted with the use of her name, it was familiar and warm and he frowned further at the distinct tones of affection that came from the man to the woman. Were they bonded? It was an odd match if so. She was well past her birthing years. When the woman turned her attention upward to the man he was completely aware that he had been off by a mile. The familiarity there was matron, family. Not lover or bond mate. He eyed Kaidan and then looked to the Doctor.

"Hello," she greeted him and stood from her desk, moving closer to him and extending her hand. Which he took and she squeezed but did not shake. "My name is Doctor Karin Chakwas, I lead the medical team here on the Normandy."

He nodded, "Garrus," he did not feel the need to make this formal. Something about this human made it easy somehow to forgo it. "You have my rations?" He asked curtly and rather rudely, he knew. He still felt irked by the idea and casted a sideways glance at Alenko who eyed him harshly for his tone.

"Oh," she would say, non-plussed. "I do, actually," and she moved past the both of them to a box on the far counter. "I had started gathering all we had when I heard a tur…" she paused and smiled to him apologetically, "Heard you were coming aboard." She moved then towards him and offered him the box. "There isn't much, but no worries, I have already put in an order – we will be fully stocked by next port, overly so – as I am acutely aware of the appetite after battle."

He was surprised and a bit embarrassed by this encounter. First, surprised because she had details of Turian anatomy and the need to feed after physical excursion. Second, embarrassed because he had judged this situation immediately with prejudice instead of waiting to hear all sides of the story. Rookie mistake. Both in military and security-policing. Shape up Vakarian, he admonished himself internally. Outwardly, he dipped his head deep and thanked her, "I appreciate this, Doctor." He moved the box to the side and set it down, not ready to take it anywhere just yet.

She hummed and gave a wide grin towards him, "I want to apologize if I ever – overstep –" she chewed on the word for a moment before continuing, "I am first a medical professional and will want to know as much about you and your kind as possible. I have patched up Turian officers in my day but scrapes and bones are so easily prepared compared to other ailments that may arise."

He nodded, "Ask any question you want," Garrus opened the link to her. "I will answer them as truthfully as I can, if –" he eyed Alenko and then continued to her, "I am able to get the same favor in return."

She beamed at him and that was his answer. It was clear that the chance to have discussions like these were a highlight to her and he felt a sense of …he shook his head. Curiosity? No. He shrugged at the thought and looked to Alenko. "Thank you," he would tell the man after they said their goodbyes to the Doctor and exited the room.

Alenko looked at him in confusion for a moment before he smiled and nudged the turian in the arm, "We really are in this together, Vakarian," he chuckled and moved to leave him in the hall, "See ya around."

He moved back to the elevator and waited for it to ding open. When it did, he was surprised to see a quarian standing in the small lift. Her masked face lifted and found his with a shocked 'oh' coming through her filters. The speaking indicator flared purple as he stepped into the lift. He hadn't expected this at all.

"I didn't realize that there was a turian on board!" She said quickly, excitedly. "That makes me feel so much better."

He hadn't exactly been expecting a Quarian, either. The nomadic people tended to stick to the Migrant Fleet or randomly be stationed in more public domains - not on a military vessel.

There was a gentle accent to her words, so decidedly quarian he almost smiled at it. She continued without waiting for him to speak, "I thought this was going to be so weird, being on this human ship alone, with no one else to talk to other than..." she ran an arm up and down her upper arm, pausing to squeeze a seem, he narrowed his gaze in on the seam and eyed her quickly after that. There was a stutter in her words before she dropped her hand and changed the subject to her name, "Sorry, my name is Tali. Tali'Norah Vas Reema, actually – and you're Garrus? I didn't realize you would be Turian."

"I am," he nodded once.

"She mentioned she was waiting on a Garrus."

He looked back towards her, "Who?"

"Shepard, the…commander," she eyed him wearily then, and even though he couldn't see her face he could almost make out the apprehensive features. The female rocked up on her toes then back down, her legs similar in shape as his bent at an angle that was good for running and leaping, most humans teased about them resembling "dog legs", but he didnt really know what dogs were. Garrus' tilted his head and he looked down at the gesture of her slowly rocking. Usually signaling nerves. "You aren't one of those anti-human Turians are you?" She asked with a strength in her voice that had not been there seconds before.

He regarded her, unsure of how to answer that. Was he? No. Maybe. "I…don't think so."

The silence that followed that was loud. He could tell by the stiffness in her body she didn't like the answer, but instead of saying anything about it she reached out, three fingered hand similar to his own grabbed a part of his armor and she tugged him forward with the bend of her elbow so her glowing eyes looked dead into his.

Normally, Garrus would have slammed her into the fucking wall. He glared at her. Body tense at and at the ready, "She saved my life, Garrus," she said to him. As if they were familiar. As if it meant something to him that the quarian had been saved. "You better not hurt her –" a pause, "Them."

"Never." He said before the word 'them' registered and he clamped his mandibles shut as she pushed him away, not really making him move but the threat was there. He straightened to his full height, which was impressive as most often times Turians rested on their heels and never did this unless in the midst of a fight. It was an act of intimidation, to make one's enemies cower, but the quarian stared unabashedly indifferent to the move and he nestled back down and chuckled.

She glared and then, after a small second, followed his chuckle with one of her own.

"Glad to meet you, Tali'Zorah vas Neema."

"Likewise, Garrus Vakarian."