Chapter Fourteen

Tools of War

"He wants you to go walk around a dreadnaught full of Marauders and Brutes?" Garrus asked.

"Yes," Shepard said, taking a bite of her carachi and a sip of white wine.

The dining room felt surprisingly warm and peaceful that evening, which was surprising considering how the morning had gone. When Shepard and Garrus had returned to the family home that afternoon they found that Victus had already passed the information he wanted them to go over onto Castis. Castis and Atala, who was also deeply involved in the plans for the summit as one of the few surviving Kabalims, sat Garrus and Shepard down and started briefing them on the proceedings while Maximus prepared dinner.

"Why exactly does he want you exposed to those things?" Atala asked from across the table. "They haven't been attacking like they were, but they don't seem capable of communication. They just keep running until we catch them, only turning violent when you face off with them. It's part of why the Cabals were assigned to round them up as it's easier to manage them if you can use stasis."

Shepard frowned. "And why exactly have the turians been rounding them up? That doesn't seem like a very good use of your resources if they're no longer attacking."

Atala frowned. "They're not attacking now… some of the generals said it would be a mercy to put them down, others didn't trust that they wouldn't become hostile again."

"But why are you rounding them up?" Shepard pressed.

Atala bit her lip and shot her father an uncomfortable look.

"The Generals decided to hold onto them in case we were put into a position where we needed additional tactical support."

Shepard stared at him.

"You want to use them?" Garrus said incredulously.

"If we are pushed to that point, yes." Castis stared at his son. "You were making the calls on which of our fleets held the line and which retreated. You know how thin our ranks have become. What if the krogan attack?"

"They won't." Shepard said, not bothering to look up from her plate.

Castis scowled. "Or the Rachni begin to spread."

"The Queen said she won't." She took another sip of wine.

"Or the Batarians decide to make a move for more territory?"

"I wiped out a whole system of them. They don't exactly have the numbers and infrastructure for it."

Castis gave her a long look. "You're being rather glib about massacaring a system worth of a species for someone who's challenging our potential use of the Marauders and Brutes."

Shepard put down her wine slowly. "I've been demonized by enough people for that and I stand by my decision; we'd all be dead if I hadn't done that. We didn't even know about the Crucible and they would have already been on us had I not." Her voice grew quiet. "It was a horrible loss, but it was the only call." She looked at Castis. "We're not at war right now. You can't justify imprisoning them to use as a sacrificial front line."

Castis took a sip of wine. "Aren't you here trying to stop the next war from happening?"

Shepard paused. "Yes."

"When will it happen?"

"I don't know." She said slowly.

"But you know that could break out again easily?" Castis pressed.

"If we're not careful."

"And that's exactly what the generals are doing. Being careful." He said, slicing into another type of meat that Shepard didn't know the name of yet.

"How can the two of you let this happen?" Shepard asked.

Atala's eyes flicked to her father, then became very interested in her food.

Castis swallowed. "Look, Shepard, I can't say that I like the idea, but it's marginally better than killing them, and it is what we were ordered to do."

"So fight it." Garrus said.

"We did." Atala said into her plate.

Garrus looked from her to his father. "Then keep fighting it."

Castis sighed. "We presented two appeals and they were both voted down by the Admirals, so Admiral Vietarus' order stands."

Garrus stared at his father. "It's a bad order."

"It's an order." His father said quietly, staring straight back.

Maximus entered the room carrying a plate of something, frowning at it. "Kabalim Vakarian, I think they're ready." He looked up at her. "I did my best, sir. I have never prepared these before."

"Right here, Maximus" Pointing to Shepard. Shepard was very confused. "I appreciate your effort and I am sure you did fine. To my understanding, variations in preparation merely affect flavor and nutritional value to a small degree, but nothing that is likely to cause issues with digestion." The Officer walked to Shepard's side and placed the covered dish next to her plate, saluted and disappeared back into the kitchens.

Shepard gave Atala a questioning look. "Go on," Atala said with a nod. "They're for you."

Deeply suspicious, Shepard picked up one of the more wicked looking knives, for protection. She still didn't trust Atala as far as she could throw her and she hadn't had a chance to test her strength in Palaven gravity yet so she was pretty sure she couldn't throw the turian very far. She lifted the lid of the dish and stared at several strange wrinkled purple root-like things that were slightly burned and some heavily wilted greens.

"What are these?" Shepard asked with a wrinkled nose. The smells emerging from the now uncovered dish were quite pungent.

"Vegetable." Atala said. "There was a note from your Dr. Chakwas that it would be necessary to eat these at least every other day while you're here and that you would need to add them to the meals since turians on-planet consume an almost exclusively meat based diet." She said hopefully. She caught Shepard's glare from across the table and held up her hands. "I found that on the first pass through your medical records! I didn't go back in! You can't be mad at me."

Castis was staring in confusion at the plate. "You have to eat those?" he said slightly incredulously. "I just thought it was a very strange dietary preference some humans had."

Shepard was still glaring at Atala. She opened her mouth but Garrus interrupted.

"She can still be mad at you, Atala." he said, then looked to Shepard. "But Atala does have a point. Eat your vegetables, Shepard." He looked back at his father. "Why exactly does Victus want Shepard to go see the Brutes and Marauders if the standing order is to keep them to use as a weapon?"

"Because Victus didn't like the idea either," Castis said. "But he can't argue with its tactical logic. However, now that we know Shepard is able to communicate with the Ascendent, it's possible she might be able to communicate with them as well and it might give him some other options."

Shepard stabbed at the burned root thing with a knife. "So I die saving everyone just to become a divining rod for shit we don't understand." She mumbled into her plate.

"If you can communicate with them, if you can help us provide evidence that they can cooperate and that it's possible to coexist peacefully, we might be able to convince the Council to consider resettlement options for them."

The root thing tasted terrible, but Shepard didn't think it was Maximus' fault. She pushed one of them around her plate with her knife until she caught Garrus scowling at her and she stabbed it and popped it into her mouth with a sigh. She looked to Atala, "You said something about a krogan representative last night. They aren't part of the Council. Why are they coming here?"

"The summit's been extended to include some of the species with the highest rates of captives altered by the Reapers. Mainly the batarians and the krogan." Atala said. "But we need the krogan in particular because the organic genetic makeup of the Brutes is a mixture of krogan and turian."

"And that discovery," Castis said, "has become the backbone of the argument to hold them to use in battle if necessary or eliminate them. The mixed genetics suggests to many that traces of the original individual do not survive the transformation."

"The Echo survived as a collective mind." Shepard said. "It could be the case with the Brutes."

"And maybe that is something you can share with Victus after you see them." said Castis.

Atala was fiddling with her wine glass. "What's it like?" She asked. "Communicating with the Ascendent."

Shepard was quiet for a moment, the turians watching her. "Strange," she said at last, "and very sad. They feel a lot of pain, and I think they feel trapped. I don't know if they're all this way, I only interacted with Echo, but it seems to crave connection." Atala's lips had become tight and she seemed to have become lost in staring into her wine. "They play with children, and in the water. Shepard continued, "And they draw things in the sand." She looked to Castis. "Admiral Raan said that once they were able to communicate with it about working with her construction and linguistics team they found it waiting every day at dawn by this cliff where the Geth could easily get close to it." Castis' eyebrows rose. "It sought me out as well, when it knew me." She shrugged. "If there are more like that, rebuilding might help both of you. Your personnel issues would be lessened and they would have purpose; start to have a place in the world again.

Atala stood from her chair and stretched. "Well, I can take you tomorrow afternoon if you like." She offered. "I'm in charge of security for them in a few different ways and I have to check in with my people. I can give you a ride."

Shepard sighed. "Probably better to do it sooner than later."

"If she's messing with more leftover Reaper crap I'm coming." Garrus said flatly.

Shepard frowned. "I'm not going to stop you,but you don't have to."

"Yeah," said Garrus, "but someone needs to be ready to carry you to the nearest doctor."

"No they don't!"

"You two have fun arguing about this and just meet me on the lawn at two." Atala said. "I'm exhausted and I have a mountain of paperwork to get through for tomorrow."

Garrus frowned. "Since when do you have paperwork that isn't ninety percent redacted and top secret?"

Atala gave a pained smile. "Well, you see, your lovely girlfriend here, had the salarians cure the genophage. So my previously very quiet covert position as part of the Krogan Relations and Response Corps is now actually a full time job. So if you'll excuse me I have a report on breeding rates in the Nastar Valley to finish." She gave a small wave and headed out the door, her father frowning after her.

For once, it was Shepard who was watching Garrus sleep. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, gently running a finger along his arm that he had tucked beneath her head as they went to sleep so he could roll closer. He'd rolled to his back once he had actually passed out. She stared at the bandage on his chest, covering the space where her strands had dug their way into his carapace. She'd asked him what the doctor had said as they had prepared for bed. Apparently the damage really was superficial but it, of course, would scar.

She still couldn't believe she was sharing a bed with a turian. Although, she didn't think about the fact that he was a turian most of the time, until now. He had just been Garrus: the voice in her ear that sent shivers down her spine even when they were in the most dangerous part of a mission, a comrade whose ability to make the most impossible headshots, took her breath away, who's sarcastic comments in the middle of doing her job made it very difficult to keep a straight face. After Joker, he'd easily become her closest friend while hunting down Saren. She'd wondered about what it would be like for things to become more… but everything was so new and difficult that she hadn't wanted to push anything.

And there had been Liara… her burning desire to understand the Prothean beacons and ruins was infatuating. She'd never looked at Shepard in trepidation or doubt when Shepard discussed the visions from the beacon. Her passion and curiosity made Shepard feel like she could sit and listen to the asari talk forever… and the intimacy of having Liara inside her mind had been like nothing she'd ever experienced.

But after the Normandy was destroyed... She had been so glad Liara was safe. So glad Joker was safe, so glad Garrus hadn't been on the ship, that he was safe and… and had been ever so slightly relieved that she did not have to face the Reapers… that she would not watch the horrors the prothean beacon had put in her head unfold upon her home.

Then she had woken in the Cerberus lab and felt anger and regret, not gratitude. She'd hid it from everyone, performed the "Commander Shepard" bravado and concealed the deep shame she'd felt. When she saw Liara again, saw the longing and adoration in the wonderful asari's eyes, she felt terror. What would Liara think if she knew Shepard wished she'd died? That she feared and resented the task she had been brought back to complete? She couldn't do it. Couldn't risk the disappointment in that spitfire's eyes when she inevitably found the weakness Shepard hid within.

And then she'd found a mercenary with eyes full of sadness and rage. Who ran from his failures into the heaviest gunfire he could find, and despite complaining to her that she kept getting him into trouble, always looked a little disappointed when he returned from a mission without a bullet wound. For the first time since she'd awoken, if he was there, she could breathe… as she watched him breathe now.

He'd drank heavily when he returned to their room, and she could tell from the way he snored slightly every now and then that he was out cold. She smiled to herself conspiratorially and took the liberty of tracing his tattoos with her fingers. Tattoos she wanted more than she was willing to admit. Restlessness filled her. She was going to wake him up if she wasn't careful. She eased her head off his arm, slipped off the bed and disappeared out the door without a whisper.

The house was quiet and dark. She strolled down the hall wondering if she would be able to get outside without setting off some anti-human booby trap. An unfamiliar voice made her freeze. She had spoken at some point with each of the turian officers who lived in the residence and helped run it. This voice was bright, a little high, definitely turian by the distinctive vibrato. Shepard followed the sound to the end of the hall and around the corner. About halfway down she could see a door cracked open and blue light spilling from inside. Shepard took long slow breaths and moved towards the door. She could move across crumbling rubble in full armor in almost perfect silence so she had no trouble covering the distance to the door on a stone floor in bare feet without a sound. The blue light spilled in a line down her cheek from the crack of the door as she peered inside.

A slim horned figure sat on the edge of a bed, knees curled up to its chest. Chin resting on top of them. The light shifted and Bloodhound took shape on the ground before the figure.

"Activate file A one three seven again." Atala said softly.

Bloodhound's brightness grew and with a swirl of data the VI rearranged its form so that it took the shape of a slender turian female whose horns were a twin to Atala's own. "Hi Atala." Said a lighthearted voice full of mirth. The gleaming blue figure cocked its head to one side. "So you just joined us here in the world and I have to say I am one disappointed Aunt. I have been waiting in the hospital for hours to talk to you and tell you everything you need to know to be a Vakarian but all you want to do is cry. And sleep I guess, but frankly you're even more boring right now when you're asleep. So, I borrowed Bloodhound from your mom, spirits know she's not going to need her right now, and I figured I'd go ahead and tell you everything while I still remember. So first of all, welcome to the ranks of the Vakarian women. We are scary and awesome and fifteen different kinds of trouble and there's nothing anyone can do about it, it's in your genes. Your blood is as blue as your tattoos will be oneday and you should be proud of them; it's also just a handy coincidence because if you get a bad scratch on your face in the right spot, sometimes people can't even tell if you're bleeding. Oh, but a cabathi will be able to, so if you're in their territory just be ready because those are mean fuckers." The recording emitted some strange muffled noise and the figure laughed. "Your Dad is telling me not to swear in a message to his infant daughter. I'm sorry kid, but I don't care, you're gonna learn all these words someday. Anyway, where was I? You're a Vakarian, we're great, tattoo correlation is handy - I actually have a theory that the color is purposefully that hue; there's evidence that it used to be lighter and they made it darker about five hundred years ago under some very suspicious circumstances involving infidelity. It's a whole thing, I'll tell you when I inevitably have to teach you about breeding because I don't trust either of your parents to pull it off without messing you up bad. Ummm... Oh yeah, watch out for cabathi." The shadowy figure on the bed chuckled.

"Anyway, you get your name from me, so make me proud. Don't screw up or I'll have you renamed and handed off to an Aster." The figure said, shaking its finger at the viewer. "So, serious talk. You're the younger sibling in your house. You have a pretty great big brother. He's able to walk and say about ten words so far and he doesn't like taking baths." The voice softened. "He's probably gonna boss you around because that's what your mom did to me and they're pretty similar. But you have to know that he means well. Also he's gonna think that because you're younger that it's his job to take care of you, and I wanna tell you that there couldn't be anything farther from the truth there. Your mom is pretty cool, she'll probably run our clan one day when you're much, much older. The eldest tend to think it's their job, so I wouldn't be surprised if little Garrus gets the same idea. I just want you to know that your and my job is to look after them. Because they will get caught up in things they think are really important and miss the little stuff. You gotta have his six, ok? I'll teach you numbers and what that stuff means later, too. There's plenty of time. Anyway, I should go do my job and make sure your dad gets some sleep. You're pretty cute now that you're not slimy. I'll see you later, ok?" The figure reached forward then stopped suddenly. "Oh! And don't skimp on wine pairings. You don't know what wine is yet, and can't drink it for a long time, but that's important. Not taking the time for a pairing is tacky. Don't do it."

The light faded and morphed back into Bloodhound's usual form. "File A five-fifty-two." The person curled up on the bed said.

Bloodhound shifted into the turian's form again. "Ok, so I'm recording this because when you finally get born, Atala, your mom is gonna be really tired for a while, and so will your dad and there are gonna be times when Garrus is bored out of his mind. So your mom can play this for both of you, and maybe it will make you fall asleep and keep him entertained. You better not fall asleep because you think I'm boring, though. I will disown you if that happens. Ok… so what should we go with…. today I'm going to tell you about the talana. The talana is the queen of the beasts. She lives in the rivers and the seas and you can hear her roar still echoing when you stand on a beach on a wild day or if you stand near a waterfall. All the beasts feared her and long, long ago the beasts and the turians were fighting and the spirits summoned her to make peace. So she stomped her feet," the figure made motions to match her story, "and thunder rumbled in the sky, she flapped her wings and the wind howled, she released her biotics and lightning danced in the sky, and the beasts and turians were so scared that they ran back home. Now, if we get into a fight again, the thunder roars, the wind howls, and lightning fills the sky, and we know we need to stop fighting and go home because she's angry. The talana also guards our dead. She swims in every stream, river, lake and ocean and guides them back through the waters to their homes. Long ago the spirits-"

A hand appeared on the door before Shepard and pressed it soundlessly closed. She started and found Castis standing before her, his eyes blazing. Shepard made an apologetic face and tried to begin stepping back silently, but Castis grabbed her arm and nodded for her to follow him. Reluctantly, Shepard did.

He led her back down the hall towards where she and Garrus were staying, moving incredibly quietly, and stepped into a sitting room, closing the door behind them. He turned to her and said in a menacingly quiet voice. "What were you doing?"

"I'm sorry." Shepard said. "I couldn't sleep, I got up to walk around a little and heard a voice I didn't know so I went to investigate." She crossed her arms. "I'm not on my ship or my planet, I got jumpy and then I got distracted. I didn't mean to pry."

Castis sighed. "Makes sense."

"I mean it." Shepard said. She did feel bad. "I didn't mean to disrespect her privacy." She bit her lip. "Is Atala ok?"

Castis gave her a long look. "She turned in the report she mentioned at the end of dinner two weeks ago." He said softly. "I think she will be ok."

"She's a good soldier." Shepard said.

Castis grunted. "You should get back to your room, Commander. You'll make a ton of work for me if you get yourself killed by one of those things tomorrow."

"Of course." Shepard said softly, opening the door. She paused and looked back at Castis. "I like her." She said softly. "I… I hope we become friends."

Castis snorted. "Spirits help me if you do."

Shepard looked exhausted, Garrus thought. She had been rather quiet that morning as the two of them continued to talk circles around what should happen with the transformed creatures the Reapers had left behind. Garrus didn't mind a slow start to the day as he had an impressive hangover.

After dinner the night before he had spent time talking with his father. Garrus had insisted that there had to be something they could do to bring Rafia around. To change her position on the Joining. But his father had been adamant that there was nothing he could do.

"We could make a Hierarchy appeal or… or you could challenge her." Garrus said in frustration.

Castis gave him a long stare. "You would want me to challenge your mother? That's the kind of thing that's sparked half the issues we fought over in the Unification Wars."

"So what? All this is put on hold because of her prejudice?" Garrus said incredulously.

"Garrus, I understand that it's upsetting, but that's the way it is. Our society has been ripped to pieces. Do you really want to create a split in our clan over a romance? You know that even if the rest of the clan liked her, which I'm sure they would, they wouldn't stand against Rafia. Not after all she's done for our people.

Garrus had stared out the window in frustration. His father sighed. "If recognizing your relationship somehow really means that much to you why don't you go to her family on Earth or to a colony and have a human marriage ceremony?"

"That's not… it's not the same." Garrus said. His father frowned. "And it's not about sentiment." His father raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's not just about sentiment. It's about security." Garrus' eyes roamed over the mountain grounds of the old house. His grandmother had told him that when defensive protocols for the house were activated the summer sun that was currently bathing the flower beds in their warm light would instead be reflecting off the tops of five foot serrated metal spikes that currently lurked beneath the rich earth. "The stolen medical records you've found don't cover half of what she's capable of. Our team doesn't even know what she's capable of. But what we've seen so far is substantial." His keen eyes caught an axen dash through the shadows of the trees at the edge of the lawn. Its long red furry tail whipping through the grass as it followed its scaled nose after the scent of some unknowing prey. "She's a highly valuable asset to the Alliance. She has always been a key officer for them and notoriety in the wake of the war and her new abilities are only going to make her a more useful piece of tactical and diplomatic equipment. . The Turian Empire would suffer a huge tactical loss by not taking an opportunity to make her one of our own."

Garrus could see his father's reflection in the window. He saw Castis' lip tighten in recognition of his son's evaluation. "Not to mention, it would decrease the chances of the Alliance trying to use her against the Empire." Garrus sighed, "Which is obviously a move she would never make on her own, but you and I both know that there is always a possibility humans and turians could go to war again. On a more personal level," he said, turning back to his father, "I want the Joining for her personal security. She still has a huge batarian target on her back, and probably always will. The Alliance officer who cared the most for her safety, sanity and honor is dead. I like Hackett, but he's just not Anderson. Her joining the Vakarian clan is a political win the Alliance won't oppose but it also means she has the largest military to back her up if anyone tries to pull any shit." He took a deep breath. "Not to mention, we value our people and stand up to attacks in a way the Alliance does not. They wouldn't risk war if the batarians tried something no matter how valuable she is to them, but if the batarians were to make an attempt on a Commander of the Vakarian clan…" He let the words trail off. "You know the way our people have responded to that kind of thing." Castis had to see he was right. Had to see that he wasn't being impulsive, that he wasn't being emotional, that he had considered this and the price of this from every angle. "You can't tell me it's not the best call to make." He said, his eyes locked on his father's.

Castis let out a long breath. "You're right. But I also can't tell you it's going to happen."

So Garrus had gone upstairs and gotten very, very drunk.

His and Shepard's discussions regarding the Brutes and Marauders had gotten them nowhere. They could come up with half a dozen options, but it didn't really matter as it all depended on the remaining sentience of the Reapers victims and the seemingly inevitable, unending, stupidity of the Council.

They had met Atala on the lawn at two and followed her to a small, sleek, dark ship that was sitting at the edge of the wind tossed grass. Atala was in the dark molted suit Shepard had first met her in, but wore two slightly pointed sleek shoulder plates that displayed a variety of turian military symbols. "Here ya go," she said, tapping a command on her omnitool and opening the doors of the ship, "be careful not to get mud on the seats," she said with a grin. Shepard was surprised by how spacious the interior of the ship was. She could see that it could sit six comfortably, in addition to the pilot, and had a highly impressive array of weapons on racks integrated into the walls and ceiling. "Standard Kabalim vessel." Atala said with a shrug as she noticed Shepard's eyebrows raise at the ship's utility. "The rest of the military doesn't always trust us or share it's toys, so everything we have is designed to make us pretty lethal and self-sufficient."

"Can we get one of these?" Shepard murmured to Garrus. "We could easily fit two in the Normandy." Her eyes gleamed. "Hell, we could ditch the Kodiak and possibly fit four of them."

Garrus snorted. "I'm afraid you'll have to keep your greedy hands off our proprietary stealth vessel." He said. "And I'm surprised. Ditch the Kodiak? We've been dropped off on so many horribly dangerous missions in that thing. What about all the near-death memories?"

"Yeah," Shepard said as she carefully slid into one of the seats near the front, next to the seat Garrus had taken. "But think of all the trouble we could get into with one of these?"

"You're impossible."

"You know you love it."

He couldn't deny that.

Shepard noted that it only took them forty five minutes to reach Prometra in Atala's ship, remembering Chakwas had mentioned an hour flight time for the Normandy. She was beginning to wonder if the turians hadn't been as incredibly generous with the tech they contributed to the Normandy's construction as the Alliance thought they had been. Atala easily guided them into the docking bay of the dreadnought standing sentinel over the recovering capital.

After leaving her ship in the docking bay and calling a few threats to the crew stationed there that she didn't want to find it scratch when she got back, Atala led them along a series of corridors and hallways. Nearly every officer they came across stopped and saluted the Vakarian siblings. When this happened for the seventh time by Shepard's count she asked, "Ok so just how far up the chain of command are the two of you?"

"Don't worry about it." Garrus said, giving her a brief sideways look.

Atala chuckled. "Let's just say that neither of us actually has to salute Dad." Garrus snorted. "But we wouldn't wake up the next morning if we didn't."

"Oh, certainly not." Garrus scoffed.

They wound their way into the bowels of the ship until they came to an immense door. Atala stopped at a control panel beside it, tapped in a lengthy series of commands and then pulled off a gauntlet and placed a hand on the biometric scanner beside it.

"Authorization confirmed." came a voice from the panel and the doors slid open. They walked into a small chamber before another pair of doors with yet another control panel and biometric scanners on either side of the door.

"I'm gonna need this to scan you, Commander." Atala said, gesturing to the panel. Shepard frowned, but pulled off her own gauntlet and placed her hand on the scanner. A light crossed the screen beneath her palm.
"Unknown genetic material." the voice said. "Please scan recognizable genetic material."

Atala frowned and tapped something into the panel.

"No match found in human genome." the voice said again.

Shepard sighed. "Damn thing doesn't have to rub it in."

Garrus frowned. "Our samples just might not be diverse enough."

Atala snorted. "Oh trust me, when I became Kabalim I found out just how disturbingly diverse our human genetic samples are. Let's just say that my predecessors were exceptionally busy after the Relay 314 Incident."

Atala tapped something else into the screen and the light passed under Shepards hand again. "New genetic identity added to database. Commander Shepard added to authorized personnel."

Atala looked to her brother. "Garrus?" Garrus crossed to the other panel and placed his bare hand against it as Atala replaced Shepard's hand with her own.

"Two party authorization complete. Access granted." And with a complicated series of mechanical sounds the doors before them opened and Shepard followed the turians across the threshold.

"Where exactly are you two taking me?" She asked.

"Where we keep everything mean, nasty and dangerous," said Atala.

"So, you know," said Garrus, "The place my parents adopted her from."

Atala elbowed her brother but he just laughed.

"You know, Atala," Shepard said. "If you place that blow an inch lower and two inches to the side you can-"

"Don't even think about it, Shepard." Garrus said with a glare.

They stepped through the doors onto a narrow railed walkway along the edge of an enormous chamber. Catwalks ran along the walls and ceilings and Shepard could see a series of free standing cells in the center of the chamber monitored by a group of turians in dark, mottled uniforms that matched Atala's own. They descended a set of stairs to the main level and the cells' occupants came into view.

Perhaps two hundred Marauders filled the cages on the right side of the huge chamber. Their many eyed faces following the trio as they walked down a long row of the cells. Plates of metal gleamed on their carapaces and their bodies were wreathed in strange metal tubing and bits of wiring. Some came to the edges of their cages as they passed, sniffing loudly through a filter like snout, while others were huddled unmoving in the corners as if oblivious to the new presence. A few hissed or roared and Shepard willed herself to take long, slow breaths. She had fought plenty of them and always found them to be a particularly horrifying part of the war, but she'd not been this close to so many for such an extended period of time and not been focused on killing them. Her stomach turned with sickness and horror as her eyes roamed each of the twisted faces seeing that the clan tattoos that were still visible through the mess of mutation and robotic implants. The bright colors and bold lines a reminder of the families these tortured things had come from.

Shepard heard a low snarl, they rounded a corner and came across the captured Brutes. Her heart lurched and as her eyes fell on the nearest one and the blue tattoos across its face, she felt as if a nightmare had somehow found her here. Her biotics sparked and the strands at the tips of her fingers began to glow. She forced herself to take deep, long breaths. The brute's face contorted as it snarled again, the blue tattoos shifting with it. A different pattern of blue tattoos, Shepard could now see. Not Vakarian. Not Garrus. It's over. He's safe. No one can do this to him. Mechanical implants were much more heavily integrated into the Brutes' bodies than the Marauders'. The monster of steel and flesh prowled along the edge of its cage, glaring out at them.

"Hey!" Called a sharp voice. One of the dark uniformed turians emerged from around another corner. She held up her hand and biotics danced around it, their light wavering across her red tattoos. "Stop it now!" she snapped at the brute as though it was a misbehaving varren. The brute hissed at her. "None of that!" she snapped and the blaze in her palm grew. The brute let out a low rumble, its long undulating neck pulled back towards its horribly misshapen carapace and it lumbered into the far corner of the cage. The turian female nodded, lowering her hand, the blue light fading. "Good freak." She leaned over a large bin at the side of the cage and pulled out a dripping hunk of meat and then tossed it easily over the top of the cage. There was a flash as the meat passed through some kind of barrier and the room started to smell like burned meat. The hunk of singed protein dropped onto the floor and was snapped up an instant later by the brute. A few other brutes in the cages nearby began to growl at the smell in the air.

The turian casually wiped her bloody hand on her suit and then saluted the new arrivals. "Kabalim, Sir! My apologies, you are arriving right at feeding time. They tend to get a bit testy." There were maybe a hundred cages containing one or two brutes each stretching into the distance behind her.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Atala said lightly. She gestured to Garrus and Shepard, "This is General Vakarian and Commander Shepard. The Primarch wanted them to take a look at our little circus here."

The red tattooed female saluted again, "Ringmaster Lieutenant Roki at your service, sirs."

Garrus nodded in greeting but Shepard was still gazing at the captives around her. "How many are there?"

"Our little freakshow consists of two-hundred and twenty Marauders and a hundred and fifty Brutes."

Shepard frowned. "So few?"

"There are two other populations on our larger moon Venatrix." Roki supplied. "They're about the same size. We know there are more out there but these are all that are left of the batches we have been able to round up." She frowned at the brute before them. "They're slippery and they bite."

"What do you mean by 'all that are left?'" Shepard asked.

Atala's face darkened and Garrus eyed her warily. The Lieutenant shrugged. "They aren't exactly built to last, sir. We caught the first ones about two months ago now, and most of them have died." She gestured to the barrel. "We've found suitable and sustainable nutrition, but it doesn't seem to matter. The synthetic implants are beginning to malfunction and the surrounding tissues are sickening and breaking down."

"Infections spread rapidly." Atala said softly. "It's part of why we don't have any large groups in the same cell. We don't understand their robotic or organic physiology well enough to halt the deterioration. The cadavers our biologists have studied rot too quickly for us to learn anything useful. Their longevity clearly wasn't a priority for the Reapers."

Another turian, a very slight male, had joined them. His face under his dark green tattoos was somber. "It's like they die faster the second time around."

"Good," said an extremely tall female with purple tattoos who came to stand behind him, crossing her arms. "Means we don't have to lose any more of our people hunting them down."

"These are Tavor and Kiathi," Atala said, nodding to the green and purple tattooed new arrivals. "They're also part of my Cabal."

The largest turian Shepard had ever seen joined them. He was much broader and thickly built than the rest and his wide face bore sweeping orange lines that reminded her of fire; the tips of his horns had actually been tattooed white. Looking at him, she wondered vaguely if there was a little krogan blood somewhere in his lineage. "We all serve at the pleasure of her majesty the Beastie-Sitter." His low voice rumbled. He grinned at Atala with a mouth full of very sharp teeth.

The Kabalim scowled. "I could have you court martialed for your informality, Lieutenant Zyan." She snapped, eyes like ice, her lip twitched. "It's her majesty Kabalim Beastie-Sitter."

"Sir, yes sir." He responded with an eye roll. "Do you want me to go do laps as punishment?"

"No," Atala drawled in a very Garrus-like way, "But Roki has orders to feed you to the brutes if you get out of line. Besides, didn't your Kabalim teach you to mind your manners in front of company?" She said, gesturing at Shepard and Garrus.

"Yes," Zyan rumbled, "But the general is a Vakarian so I am sure he is perfectly aware of your command ability, and the Commander should know what she's getting into if she's going to be working with you."

Garrus had never actually seen Atala in a command setting. He supposed, given who Atala was, that her informal command style made sense. He was surprised by how similar the dynamic was to Shepard's core team on the Normandy. Although, that consisted of friends who had chosen to serve under her for a period of time and most of the humans were more serious in their dealings with her, with the obvious exception of Joker. He wondered briefly if there was some connection between Atala's style of leadership and his comfort in Shepard's crew on the Normandy. Despite the humor in the air, however, he could sense the deep respect Atala's crew had for her; how they straightened as she turned their way and held their chins a little higher after she said their name. He could see Shepard marking the respect they showed Atala and wondered if she realized she worked with those who responded to her in the same way; a crew whose gaze and attention followed her as if she were the axis of their world.

Atala sighed. "Yes. As Zyan has pointed out I am secretly in charge of the wee beasties we have gathered here. As well as fifteen and a half dozen other things."

"Not a number…" Trevor said under his breath. The Kabalim scowled at him.

"Anyway, Commander. My Cabal Prime and I are at your disposal. How can we assist you with this?"

They seemed like animals. All of them. Shepard had come across many sentient species and varying levels of intelligent life in the time that she had served in the Alliance, but the creatures in this huge room… they seemed to be impossibly different from the quipping Cabal that guarded them. It was hard to look into the cages and believe they could still be turian. After the scanner's remarks of 'unknown genetic material' part of her couldn't help, but wonder if she belonged here. The brutes and marauders' organic tissue was at least still recognizably turian and krogan. Somehow they were still more themselves than she was.

Garrus caught her eye. "If one of your ideas is sticking your hand in a cage to touch it and see what happens, you can forget it right now." It was like he could tell the hopelessness of the creatures in the room was taking a toll on her.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Oh I have a much better plan." She looked to Atala. "Did you get the supplies I asked you for?"

Atala frowned and then slowly answered. "Yes…."

Garrus frowned. "What supplies?"

Atala tilted her head. "I don't understand at all why you wanted them."

Shepard merely grinned, turning to Roki. "And you haven't fed them yet?"

Roki looked uncertain. "No, we haven't."

"What the hell are you planning?" Garrus demanded.

Shepard's grin widened. "Perfect."

"I have no idea what this is supposed to tell you." Atala's voice echoed through the speaker of the interrogation room Shepard was arranging to her liking. About five minutes earlier Zyan had hauled out a huge rack of very complex and dangerous looking implements which made Shepard want to look into just what was legally allowed to happen to a turian POW… just in case. Tweaking the implements so that they were just so, she checked that the tablet resting on it was functional as well.

She turned to the massive window behind her and the various turians that were watching her. Garrus glowered. "I don't like this, Shepard." He said.

"I knew you wouldn't." She said calmly. "That's why I didn't tell you what the plan was till we were already here."

He squinted. "I'm coming in."

"No." She said firmly. "You've seen what happens to me when I'm aggravated, maybe we're wired with the same kind of tech that responds very violently. I don't want anything that's going to add friction to the situation. It will probably smell that I'm human and think I'm a hell of a lot less intimidating. It's wrong obviously, but it won't know until my biotics hit it." She looked to Atala. "Ok, send in the first one." She turned her back to the window before Atala could confirm and before Garrus could protest further or look worried, both of which would make sticking to her plan a little harder. Behind her the glass of the window became a mirror, reflecting the bright red of her hair. She took a deep breath and stretched her neck, staring at the door on the other side of the chamber.

It slid open and the milky eyes of a marauder shone in the darkness. There was a snuffling noise as it sniffed the air, picking up on the aroma of the food on the table before Shepard. Slowly and cautiously it stepped from the shadows of the holding cell on the other side of the door and into the room. It hissed when it saw her on the far side of the table that was erected in the middle of the chamber, but Shepard stood her ground. "Easy." She said. "I'm just standing here." It hissed again, not appearing to have understood, as far as she could tell. It was massive. Easily a foot taller than Garrus. Its horns seemed to have been stretched, warped and pulled from the rest of its head till they extended a full foot from its face. In making them, the Reapers must have done something to accelerate the growth of them. She'd heard Garrus talk about the fact that turian horns grew slowly, not at all like human hair or nails. It took a few steps towards the table, continuing to sniff and hiss. "Go on." Shepard said. "It's all yours." It was hesitant to take the final steps towards the table. Shepard cursed the admiral who had rounded them up. As she watched the marauder's actions it was so hard for her to tell if it was a truly unintelligent beast or a creature that had been hunted, blasted with biotics, and kept in a cage. Her mind kept drifting to Jack and her reactions when she had first been freed from the prison. If Jack had looked different, spoken a different language; if she didn't have those important hallmarks of what Shepard considered to be 'intelligent life' she would have been very tempted to shoot down the violent woman.

Was that what stood before her? A turian who had been tortured and experimented on and used just as Jack had? There had been a few times when Shepard had wondered if Jack was perhaps beyond help. Two questions had haunted Shepard all night after reading the reports that Victus had sent. How do you differentiate between a victim and a threat? How do you tell when a victim is too far gone and has become a threat to themselves or others?

The marauder stood over the table. It blinked its eyes at her and she saw them dart from her to the items she had laid out on the table, clearly hesitant to focus on something other than her. She took several steps back until she was against the window through which the others watched.

"Shepard," Garrus said. "Do not leave yourself without room to maneuver."

"Shhh. It's fine." she said. At her words, the marauder looked to her, clawed hands clenching and unclenching. She stared right back at it, took a deep breath and then said softly. "I know what happened to you." It merely blinked. "I know the Reapers took you and did unspeakable things. I know your own people hunted you down. I'm trying to help."

One of the new turian voices behind her said, "Is she really just going to talk to it? We've tried that. They don't understand more than animals do."

She held up her empty hands very slowly, and the marauder hissed. "It's ok." She said again. It's eyes flicked to the food and table. Shepard nodded. "Go ahead. It's yours. I know you're hungry and it's here for you. But if there's still a you in there, I need you to show me." She took another step back towards the wall, ignoring Garrus' warning. "Show me you're in there."

The marauder made a low rumbling noise, its fists clenching and unclenching again. It bent its head and sniffed at the table. There were two pieces of carachi on the table. One raw, cold and still bloody, the other actually cooked. The marauder considered her again and Shepard felt herself holding her breath. The marauder reached towards the cooked portion of meat… and the set of knives Shepard had carefully laid upon the table. It fumbled for one of the knives Atala had instructed her to use to cut the carachi, struggling to hold the blade by the delicate handle. It hissed. She had seen marauders use guns on the battlefield but hadn't seen them do much else with their hands. As she watched, the marauder seemed to be having difficulty getting it's large hands around the small knife. It began to growl and dropped the knife on the table, reaching for a larger one but accidentally knocked the blades aside. It's shoulders hunched and it hissed again, trying for the first carachi knife again. It was able to grasp the sharp tipped, dull sided main eating knife in one hand, but still seemed to be struggling to wrap its tubing wreathed fingers around the smaller knife.

Shepard took a slow step forward. "What are you doing?" She heard Garrus snap, but she ignored him, continuing to move slowly forward. The marauder growled and the carachi knife slipped from its fumbling grasp and thudded onto the table. It took a small step back. Shepard slowly picked the knife up, keeping the table between her and the marauder. It hissed as she turned the blade and extended the handle towards it. She held her other hand open a few inches away from the offered blade. "It's ok." She said softly. "It was hard for me to learn, too. Come on…" The marauder slowly extended a clawed hand towards her.

"Shepard, get away from that thing." Garrus said. "It's still holding the knife in the other hand."

"I know..." Shepard said, her eyes still fixed on the marauder. The clawed hand opened, and began to surround the blade handle. Shepard gently placed her empty hand on the outside of the marauder's and guided it closed around the blade, gently shifting the position of the handle in its grip so that it could hold it on it's own. "...but turians eat with two." The marauder blinked, let out a softer hiss and secured the carachi with one blade and began slicing clumsily with the other. After a moment it paused and looked from Shepard to the meat. Shepard frowned. The marauder growled softly and poked at one of the knives still on the table with the one she had helped it hold. The boning knife. Shepard picked it up and used it to remove the three dorsal bones from the carachi on the table, the marauder watching her carefully. The moment she had removed the last one it quickly stabbed the carachi again and sawed off a chunk, lifting it to its mouth with a trembling hand. It snapped the meat up and made eye contact with Shepard again before trying to saw off another portion. Its hands were shaking, the grip on the knives slipping, and it growled. Shepard rested her hand over it, looking into the marauder's face. "Thank you, it's ok, I can see you're there, and that you're hungry. You can just eat." The marauder gave her a long stare and tried sawing at the meat again with the knife. Shepard gently stopped its hand. "It's ok. I won't make you go back to the cages. Just eat." It was still for a moment, then dropped the knives, picked up that carachi with its hands and began tearing into it.

/./././././././././././././././././

On the other side of the window several members of Atala's Cabal were staring through the glass at the red haired human with open mouths. Garrus was staring at her with awe as well, his heartbeat gradually slowing. He lowered the rifle he had been pointing through the glass at the marauders head. "How the hell did she think of that?" Roki asked softly.

"It's what she does." Garrus said. "She sees the path that the rest of us can't." It was what she had done on the Crucible, what she had done with the Geth, what she had done on so many of their missions. The impossible red haired creature was now using the tablet to show the marauder different areas of Palaven and the other turian planets, trying to see if it was able to recognize its home. It didn't seem to be capable of speech but it seemed to understand most of what she said. After a few minutes of successful communication she had Atala's Cabal lead it back out the door and Atala ordered them to put it in a cell with a bed and sink and more food, a cell used to hold sentient species, not a cage for an animal.

The brute was next. Shepard had new food and knives brought into the room and while she did Garrus kicked open the trunk he had gotten Zyan to bring him and shouldered a small rocket launcher. The window was still in its one-way configuration, which was fine. He had a feeling that Shepard wouldn't approve of the precautions he was taking.

The next ten minutes were agony for Garrus. The brute lumbered into the room growling and snarling at Shepard. She shouted right back. Garrus felt he really shouldn't be surprised by this kind of behavior from her at this point but he still was. She bellowed insults at it, calling it a squealing pyjak among much more foul things, and didn't flinch a muscle as it snarled at her. The brute actually snapped up the raw meat, managing to snatch it from the table while Shepard had been trying to shoo it away as though it was a disobedient pet. However, after she threw a few more insults at it, including one about the stick up the turian section of it's ass, it too stomped forward and stabbed at the cooked portion of meat with a knife. It didn't bother trying to cut the meat and spat out the bones rather than removing them, but it did clearly choose to use the knife over its hands, and then used the blade to pick bits of meat out of its teeth. Things became more complex when Shepard pulled out the tablet, however. The brute was able to locate the turian system and Tuchunka but kept looking back and forth between the two and growling. That didn't really matter though, Garrus thought, it didn't matter if it struggled to know where it was from, not when it was clear it was struggling to remember, clear signs that something was there. He started making arrangements with Atala to have the footage of the two encounters sent to the Primarch, other members of the summit, and the team in charge of hosting it.

"What's a Cabal Prime?" Shepard asked softly as the group made their way back to the huge space where the other marauders and brutes were being kept.

"It's Atala's top team." He said. "Kabalim led three Cabals of six soldiers. Their Prime, Duoa, and Trei. They're split into three teams based on experience and ability and usually get promoted up and then assigned a Cabala of their own over the years"

"Where are the others?" Shepard asked. "Would they be in charge of the populations on Venatrix?"

Garrus shook his head. "No. She doesn't have any others. Not now."

Shepard's eyes widened. Garrus continued. "I was shocked when I heard her call them her Prime. I wonder if she's doing that for morale."

"What do you mean?" Shepard asked.

"Well... Lieutenant Roki was the Second in her Duoa, and Kiathi was part of that team. But everyone else, they were all from her Trei team. And… well, not enough biotic turians survived for her to be assigned personnel to fill her other teams.

They were walking slowly along the lines of cages once again. Shepard felt sick as she looked around at the sentient creatures being kept like animals. "How do we know they all are still cognizant?" Kiathi asked. The purple tattooed turian had been particularly reserved through the day's proceedings. Her eyes were still hard as she took in the cages around them.

"We don't." Shepard said. "But based on what we saw today we have to give them all the benefit of the doubt. They need to be out of these cages." Kiathi opened her mouth in alarm and evident outrage, but Shepard cut her off. "I understand that they need to still be contained for the time being, but you have to start treating them like turian prisoners. With dignity."

"But those two might have been a fluke." Kiathi spat with a glare. "We can't just start blindly pampering them."

"Stand down, Lieutenant." Atala barked. "And you don't talk back to a superior that way." There was no light in her eyes, only cold steel.

Kiathi scowled. "Yes, Kabalim. Apologies, Commander."

Shepard gave the female a long look. "It doesn't matter if they were a fluke. Until we know for sure they have to be treated like sentient turians."

There was a loud thump from behind her and Garrus cursed, whipping his rifle off his back and pointing it at the source of the sound. Shepard heard a strained snarl and whirled around. A marauder had launched itself at the bars of the cage and its twisted tallon hand was reaching out towards the group. It was half on the floor of the cage for some reason, breathing heavily and emitting low snarls, teeth bared with strain as it pushed its arm as far as it could out of the cage. Its body bore evidence of burns and its face was dark with old soot.

"I'm sorry, Commander." Kiathi said darkly. "But it's marauders like that which suggest your lunch friends are the outliers." The marauder snarled, continuing to strain. It smelled, Shepard realized. She could see that parts of its flesh were turning a darker purple than the rest of its organic form and a filmy corrosion was visible on its implants.

"This is the sickness you talked about?" Garrus asked, looking to Atala and not lowering his gun. Atala nodded. "Does it alter their behavior?"

Atala frowned. "No… and I haven't seen one of them do this before." Her eyes met with Roki and Atala's second shook her head. Atala stared at the marauder. "When you start seeing that corrosion… it probably only has two or three days left."

"But, like I said." Kiathi murmured, "We can't just start trusting them." The marauders' eyes were locked on Kiathi and it hissed at her. Kiathi scowled in disdain and made a hissing noise right back. The marauder flinched.

Shepard frowned. Something wasn't right. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment. Hell, she thought, like this wasn't going to happen eventually. She began walking towards the reaching marauder.

"Shepard!" Garrus said, reaching for her. But it was too late. Shepard grasped the marauder's hand in hers and blazing green light filled the room.

./././././././././././././././././.

He was going to kill her if she survived this. The instant Shepard's hand made contact with the marauder the strands across her body had turned bright green, her eyes had taken on the same luminous glow, and a network of gleaming strands began to make their way down the hand and arm of the marauder. The marauder's breathing slowed, and the lids of its eyes lowered, but Shepard's face seemed to be contorting with effort and he could hear her heartbeat quickening. The connection wasn't the effortless link he had seen her develop with Echo. Instead, she seemed to be actively driving it.

/././././././././././././././././././.

There was gunfire and smoke. She was running, firing, and could feel pain in her side. Blasts of her biotics brought brutes and marauders in the city streets to tumbling halts, or sent them flying into the buildings. There was screaming up ahead. She sped up, climbing a set of stairs as quickly as she could and emerged on what had once been a spacious outdoor patio, but was becoming a bloody altar to the spirits of death. The turians were streaming from the crashed escape shuttle. Parents shielding children from the fire or carrying them out. Ravagers were scuttling up the sides of the walls; one had climbed the side of the shuttle. She dashed forward, but heard a hum of huge wings. She looked up, raising her hands for a blast just as the long metal insect legs of the harvester closed around her.

There was darkness. There was pain. Burning, tearing, pushing, screaming. Darkness. And a drone in her head. Run. Kill. Forward. Run. Kill. Forward. Run. Kill. Forward.

And suddenly the sun was bright in her eyes. An unfamiliar weapon in her hands... in her... She dropped the gun, staring at the huge things that were flesh and machine that moved with her thoughts.

Running. Familiar scents. Familiar patterns of sprinting turians around her. But they shouldn't be around her. She should be at their left flank. She should not be in the center. A blast hit her. The scents she knew grew closer and everything was dark.

She watched the familiar forms walk past her, their scents a torture to her. She called through the bars, but was answered with blasts of biotics that knocked her unconscious. Precious purple tattoos, contorted in rage, burned into her mind.

A ship. Sleek and dark and small.

/././././././././././././././././././././.

Shepard slowly pulled her hand from the marauder's. Its eyes fluttered. It seemed to be breathing a little easier. Its outstretched arm lowered and wrapped around the bars it leaned on. It made a low rumbling noise. Shepard's head pounded and she took long slow breaths. The strands that had extended past her fingers and into the marauder were slowly losing their brilliance and structure and after a few breaths her hands were smooth once again.

She felt a hand on her shoulder; sensed Garrus behind her. She placed her hand over his and gave it a brief squeeze. Still squatting by the cage, Shpeard looked up to Atala's Cabal. "It knows you." She said.

Kiathi scoffed. "Of course it knows us. We hunted it down and have been guarding it here for two months."

Atala frowned. "What did you see, Commander?"

"What's the Starcatcher?"

Garrus looked confused but the Cabal froze, their stares fixed on the marauder with deadly focus. Atala said quietly. "It was my Second's personal ship."

"My sister's ship." Kiathi whispered.

Shepard turned back to the marauder. It just stared at her, its breathing labored. Shepard reached out a hand, felt Garrus tense next to her, and began wiping the soot from the marauders face. It did not move. It did not growl. It did not protest. And strong purple tattoos emerged from behind the dark soot.

"Hecate!" Kiathi said with a keen and the turian launched herself at the cage, kneeling next to Shepard. The turian's eyes were wide with horror, her breaths coming in gasps.

Atala whirled to Tavor, her eyes a storm of emotions. "Get me the Admiralty medical team."

Tavor looked alarmed, "But they-"

"NOW!" And he was sprinting for the stairs.

"Hecate?" Kiathi whispered, her eyes roaming across the marauder's form. She reached out with a trembling hand and placed it on the marauder's face. It leaned into the contact, the corrosion covered tubes woven into its cheek against the turian's palm. And Kiathi screamed in anguish.