Soluvermus - A small (average size 8-12 cms/1-2 cms diameter), heavily armoured earthworm native to Palaven's more northern and southern regions. It is considered a delicacy.

Dilan - Fiancé

Praela(s) - The name for ancient warrior spirits who were believed to ride great beasts (or forces of nature) into war at the head of their tribe's legions. Spirits of great bravery, tenacity, and a fearsome beauty.

Uzluk - The head and face covering worn by krogan females.

78 Days ASR Iera, Shadow Sea enroute to Feros via Horizon

Shepard woke to the dim, blue light of the fishtank, the bed beneath her thick and deliciously warm. Threads of Garrus's incense drifted on the recycled air, coaxing her to curl in next to her husband and go back to sleep. Still, the space on her right side, so recently warmed by Nihlus, began to cool; the Spectre up and working. His absence shattered the cocoon. Damn it all. And just like that, the entire war tumbled into the empty space, filling it with twenty four and a half worries and deadlines. Not even her husband's arm, draped heavy and comforting over her hip, drove away the weight hanging above her head.

Feros awaited, but Horizon first. She needed to speak with Giran and Javik about the wisdom of waking up seven thousand protheans. Tashac's memories told her that Commander Javik, the highest ranking officer, the leader frozen to bring about the new Prothean Empire, would be able to keep them in line. The respect for his position, and Giran's as the child of Tashac and Merol, ran high, but could the Archangel hierarchy keep Javik from seizing power from the incompetent primitives once he possessed some real backing?

Sighing, she slipped out from under Garrus's arm and eased her way to the edge of the bed. She turned, lifting her knee up onto the mattress to watch her verro sleep. She couldn't get enough of looking at him. Sweet baby Jesus, before she met him, she couldn't have imagined loving someone so much that they became more beautiful with each breath. The thought of losing him formed a ball of pure, razor-edged panic that tore at the center of her with each swallow.

Her fingers lifted from her thigh, drifting across the half metre to trace the ridge of plate that covered the forearm resting on the mattress. She stopped short of actually making contact. Even after several days of recovery time, Garrus needed his sleep. As much as he'd insist that he was fine, he'd taken a hell of a hit. She didn't look forward to the fight to keep him aboard the Ypres when she, Nihlus, and Martin headed into the ExoGeni base.

Gently easing herself off the bed, she started composing the list of things she needed to accomplish as she slipped into her trousers and Archangel hoodie. First item on the list: a heart to heart with Mordin. They had some ethical worries to smooth over before she trusted him to work on the genophage cure or expose anyone to the indoctrination signals. Garrus being experimented on still sat firmly under the 'over my dead body' heading. And, for the moment, the 'hell no' heading encompassed everyone until she could trust the salarian to keep his scientific excitement under control so it didn't overwhelm his compassion and common sense.

As pissed as she'd been to hear about the genophage modification, and as much as Mordin provided a convenient scapegoat, her anger had settled. The fact remained: krogan aggression presented a real problem. Even Wrex flared too hot and too often. If she couldn't convince Wrex to believe in her honest support for the krogan, she didn't stand a hope in the hottest hell of bringing the rest of the krogan into the galactic community. If they cured the genophage with that dynamic, they'd prove the council right. Wrex would end up ass to the sky in a ditch somewhere, and the malcontented Tuchankan morons rattling the bars for endless war and retribution would unleash hell.

She sighed and shook her head. No. No, she needed to believe the krogan could work with everyone. They just needed to be dragged out of their isolation. She could do it, starting with stopping in to see Wrex. Although still insisting that he remained fit and ready for action, he looked wan and twitchy, as if a handful of fire ants crawled beneath his plates. The last time Shepard visited the krogan shaman in medbay, Wrex sat, listing on a steep angle next to the female's bed.

Stopping at her desk, she wrote a quick note for Garrus and stuck it to the bathroom door. Once she stepped into the elevator, she opened a channel to Nihlus. "Good morning, early bird," she said. "Catching any worms?"

"Is early bird some sort of racist slight?" he asked, a soft growl rolling beneath the words. Despite sounding very much like an angry tiger, those subvocals betrayed the teasing truth. "I've tried soluvermus, and they're disgusting. I don't eat anything I have to slurp out of its carapace."

"Gross, Ni. Just so, so very gross. And yes, I'm just marrying you so I can abuse you at will." She echoed his growl a little, getting the desired laugh from the other end.

"I just finished a vid call. I asked Giran to go through Merol's memory archives to find schematics for the devices they used to shield the relay keys." He yawned, adding a long, grumbling keen to the end of it before he let out a thick smacking sound and continued. "She thinks they may have a stash of the dampeners left in storage, so our trip to Horizon might be a short stop over."

Shepard grinned and shook her head, imagining the Cerberus staff looking on with slightly horrified faces … well, except for Kelly. She seemed to enjoy having the aliens aboard. The counsellor had struck up a very cheery friendship with Tali, the two able to giggle and chat for hours. "Excellent. I have a really bad feeling about the reaper device we left at the ExoGeni building. With the thorian dead …." She let the thought die unspoken, not wanting to tempt fate any more than they already were.

"Anderson will be able to tell us if they're just being secretive or if something catastrophic has happened." A noisy breath huffed in her ear. "Where are you? What's next on your schedule?"

"I'm in the elevator, so my morning is pretty well covered." She laughed and leaned into the wall. "I've reached the head space where I can have a constructive conversation about the genophage with Mordin, so I'm headed to his lab. You're welcome to join me."

"Do I need to come prepared to save our head researcher's hide, or have you reached the point of truly rational discussion?" Some strange combination of worry and amusement thrummed through his voice. "Because, sometimes you think you've calmed down, but the first chance it gets, your temper rises to the challenge."

"Nah, I'm good. I actually understand why he helped modify the genophage." She pushed off the wall as the elevator stopped. "I don't like it any more than the reason they created the damned thing to start with, but I understand why they did it. Even now, without Wrex and Bakara, a cured krogan population is a threat."

She nodded as she passed Kelly without pausing. "Good morning, Yeoman Chambers." Just before she slapped the door control into the lab, Nihlus strode up behind her. He must have come through the old armoury.

Note to self: Figure out something awesome for that space, and no … Shepard's private sexing up my torini room is not an option. Or is it?

Shaking her head, she glanced over her shoulder at her dilan. "Good morning, gorgeous. How did you sleep?"

Nihlus gripped her opposite shoulder, his hand steady and strong: he amazed her with his resilience. Rumbling softly in his throat, he leaned down to nuzzle her ear. "Better than I have in a few days." He sighed and leaned into her for a second. "Garrus seemed to sleep soundly as well."

"Me, three," she said, turning to kiss him softly. The reason why they'd all slept so deeply and well settled in her gut, warm and true. Her torini had been right … the three of them belonged together. They were at their best when in each other's proximity. She pulled away and nodded toward the door. "Shall we? The salarian's a bonafide genius, so we need him, but keep your eyes and your pheromone receptors sharp. I need to know if I can trust him with our people."

"You're really ready for this?" Nihlus asked, his mandibles held high and away from his mouth, teasing. "I'm not going to have to drag the praela of fiery death and destruction off Mordin's shredded carcass, am I?"

Shepard shrugged, affecting complete innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am the very epitome of calm control." She palmed the control and led the way into the lab. Alone in the sterile space, Mordin worked at a piece of equipment Shepard couldn't identify.

"Lose your helper?" she asked, trying for cheer off the starting line. Grunt rarely left Mordin's side. He might have been acting on Wrex's command, keeping his eye on the salarian, but Shepard believed the reason lay in the young krogan's curiosity and hunger to know who he was and where he came from. She needed to take some time to sit down and talk with Grunt. He seemed young and filled with piss and vinegar, but beneath the layers of overly enthusiastic, inexperienced warrior, he showed signs of a thoughtfulness she wanted to explore.

"Grunt in medbay," Mordin replied without looking up from his work. "Have you come to dismiss me?"

Shepard sighed as she shook her head. "No. If we meant to fire you, we would have done so before leaving Omega." Seeing that he didn't intend to step away from his work, she grabbed a chair from behind his desk and rolled it over. "I do want to talk to you about the genophage modification project, though."

"Am aware of moral complexities," he said, his voice tight and defensive. "Dedicated significant amount of time weighing ethics against necessity."

Watching the set of his shoulders, the extra curve in his spine, and his jaw clench and release a few times did more to convince Shepard of his soul-searching than any words ever could. Things weren't as cut and dried as she first believed. Blowing out another long breath, she relaxed down into the chair, her mind opening to hear him out.

Mordin pressed some controls, making the machine bleep a few times. "Data from all simulations provided same conclusions: increased krogan birth rate … unchecked population growth, expansion, war. Galaxy kills krogan or krogan kill galaxy." He cleared his throat, a soft coughing sigh. "Modified genophage returns krogan birth rates to pre-uplift levels. One in one thousand, no more, no less."

Shepard scowled, the skin between her brows pinching into a knot. "You were trying to keep their population from falling?" she asked then winced at the genuine surprise and disbelief needling him through her words.

"Yes! Not a monster! Genophage protects both galaxy and krogan. Not a punishment. Not revenge." The declaration came out strident, Mordin's defensive tone escalating to indignant. "Could have degraded genetic structure further. Could have sent krogan into extinction. Didn't."

Regret chased surprise from Shepard's thoughts and for a moment, she started to apologize. Something in Mordin's manner stopped her, the salarian bracing his hands against the table top, leaning forward over his equipment, but no longer looking at the readouts. Her instincts told her to give him space, so she did.

Nihlus shifted over to stand beside her, his hand resting on the back of the chair, his thumb caressing her neck. It felt amazing, and she smiled up at him. Of course he knew to avoid interrogating Mordin, her dilan possessed a whole lifetime of good instincts, both innate and trained.

Mordin resumed his work, tapping at the controls of the machine, a solid wall of thorns pointed straight back at her. She needed to smash a wrecking ball right through it, but not utilizing the usual Shepard method of demolition. Another tack, then. After a minute passed, Shepard sucked in a quick puff of air by way of warning the salarian she intended to speak.

"You were an important member in the STG." She molded the words into a neutral statement and leaned forward, forearms across her thighs, fingers laced. "The powers that be wouldn't give such a massive and sensitive project to just anyone." She cocked her head a little to look up at him without lifting her head.

"Trusted with most challenging projects." Mordin nodded, a quick, stiff movement. "Genophage modification project …" He took a breath worthy of inhaling the crisp, sweet chill of the first snow. "... the best time of my life. Unsurpassed intellectual challenge, camaraderie: debate, argument, inspiration." He paused to take another noisy, nostalgic breath, then shook his head. "Galaxy's most difficult problem. Needed to get it right. Millions of lives in balance. Unlimited resources provided."

Shepard shifted a little, drawing a quick, unsettled glance from the scientist. "Was it just a difficult scientific riddle?" Holding her breath, she offered silent prayer that he'd keep talking rather than shutting down. "Did you weigh the consequences to the krogan culture … to their population in your risk versus reward calculations?"

Mordin snapped back into his previous rigidity. "Genophage medical, not social. Current krogan situation a result of krogan choices. Refused to surrender during rebellions, splintered after genophage, cloistered females … saving them from krogan violence and greed, chose to leave Tuchanka ... become mercenaries."

"Yeah, they did." She sliced the heavy air between them with a bladed hand. "But what about the females? What about their hopelessness? What about millions mourning for pups who didn't get a chance to take their first breath? You're trying to tell me there isn't a gram of regret in your soul? No sorrow for their pain?" Unconvinced, Shepard cocked her head toward one shoulder, a half shrug. "As much as you'd like to paint yourself in that light, I'm sorry, Mordin, I just can't see you as the frozen-hearted scientist." She waggled her head. "Well, at least, I can't since I stopped chewing nails and spitting tacks."

The salarian's brow pulled down, his eyes narrowing: no doubt trying to parse what she'd said. After a second, he shrugged off the confusion. "Not frozen." Trading indignant for professional, Mordin let his arms drop to his sides for a second before he twisted his fingers together. "Require distance to see problems clearly. Examine data, formulate hypotheses, test, examine new data, adjust. Emotion interferes … obscures the truth."

Tugging her mouth off to one side, she lifted a dubious eyebrow. "Maybe, or maybe emotion adds an inconvenient layer of truth?" Leaning back, she propped her ankle on her opposite knee. "Did you ever visit Tuchanka to see the effects of your work?"

"First mission on Tuchanka, tested modification on small sample of krogan population. When results positive, deployed planetwide." He turned to face her, his back pressed against the table. Unconsciously, his arms locked down across his chest. "Accompanied deployment teams … returned alone yearly to take samples, monitor birth rates, watch for side effects."

Finally. Shepard nearly jumped out of the chair. Praise be the Enkindlers: a sign of hope. "You needed to see the results of your work, put a face on it."

"Modified genophage technically brilliant …." He spun back to face the piece of equipment.

"But ethically difficult?" Shepard asked, mimicking his statement on the shuttle. Expending effort to keep herself from wincing at her own words, she studied him, searching for clues about the real Mordin Solus. With hope finally peeking through the cloud, she prayed he didn't let her down. "So, you do feel regret?"

"Necessary … " His fingers stilled, hovering over the machine's controls. "... came back every year. Needed to see, needed to watch … to remind myself: genophage saves both krogan and galaxy."

Hand lifting, reaching out toward him, Shepard nodded and wrestled it back under control. "But what you saw didn't look like saving them, did it?" When Mordin didn't answer, she just took a deep breath, her chest expanding, shoulders rolling back, and moved on. She knew all she needed to. "So, how close are we to a cure?"

"Looked over files taken from Weyrloc base. Brilliantly conceived. Excellent, careful—if diabolical—approach. If Urdnot cooperates … synthesize cure within a month." He hesitated again, glancing her way, the darting glance of cornered prey preparing to turn and tear into its stalker. "But krogan not prepared for cure. Still angry, still aggressive. Nothing's changed."

Shepard pressed her lips together, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip a little. "No, sometimes focusing the krogan on peace and cooperation seems bloody-fuckin'-impossible, to quote a certain craggy, old merc." She glanced up at Nihlus when he squeezed her shoulder. "They tried to annihilate themselves long before the salarians showed up, then turned all their violence against the galaxy once the rachni disappeared …." She swallowed and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. "They remain a threat, so what can we do to neutralize it? Do you have ideas?"

Mordin turned back, facing her, his entire body suddenly energized once more, but tense … carrying an edge so sharp she kept a wary eye fastened on him. "The young," he said as if the answer amounted to a truth so obvious that any idiot should see it. "Grunt and the new generations. Pull them from shadows, integrate them."

"And maybe not just the youngsters." Shepard jumped to her feet, a spark shoving her out of the chair, her heart pounding, mind racing. She strode to the port, staring out into the black. "Give Wrex and Bakara positions on the war council." Raking her fingers through her hair, she focused on her reflection in the glass, then Mordin's from the other side of the room. "Bring krogan scientists into the research department. One cured the genophage for Saren."

"Reassure Wrex about cure," Mordin said, nodding. "Yes. Excellent."

Despite tipping her head a little to agree, she took a long breath and set into a pacing pattern, her mind roaring ahead. "More than that. They need to take a hand in their cure. They need to pull themselves up." As she said the words, they settled, solid and true, in her gut. "They need to stop living in squalor and blaming everyone but themselves for their problems." Turning, she met Nihlus's gaze and held it. He'd stayed silent, but she needed his input. If she ran off the rails, he'd pull her back.

The Spectre nodded. "Wrex will roar up a storm over the last bit, but I think you're on the right track. We can bring a handful of krogan into Archangel—if we can get that many—and set an example others recognize as a viable way out of their downward spiral." Closing most of the distance between them, Nihlus stood just on the other side of Mordin's desk. "We have to bring the females in."

She grinned, wide and excited. "Holy fricking crap, Nihlus Kryik, you're a genius. The shaman totally reached those tank bred krogan where they just attacked Wrex. The females have a power over the males, and it's time they stepped out from beneath their uzluks and took advantage of it. A cured female population under the governance of female chiefs and shamans … they could turn this whole damned thing around."

"When we're done here, I'll go talk to Grunt," Nihlus said, his subvocals sending shivers down her spine. "He's been training with the tank bred and other young krogan warriors." He leaned forward, his talon pads pressed into the desk top. "From the way he and Wrex talk, Grunt commands a lot of respect from his peers."

Shepard grinned, relief making her lightheaded. She'd hated both options: releasing a cure on an unchanged krogan population or refusing to release it. "If the krogan see Wrex and Bakara as their hope for a cure and for a bright future—a process we started before I died—we won't have to worry about security. The krogan will throw themselves in front of a reaper to protect them." Shepard strode around the table, heading for the door. "Nihlus, talk to Grunt. Mordin, start looking for krogan scientists. If you find candidates, we'll have Archangel contact them." She smacked her palm against the door control.

"And you're headed down to talk to Wrex and Bakara?" Nihlus followed her, his omnitool already glowing above his forearm.

"I am. Mordin, get started on the cure. We're going to drag the krogan into the galactic community even if they kick and scream the entire way."

Wrex sat up when Shepard entered medbay. Hovering over the shaman like an attack varren, he let out a guttural growl and lifted his chin, a challenge without teeth.

Still ready to tear apart all comers. Damn.

Shepard nodded to both krogan, disguising the sigh that slipped out to meet Wrex's aggression. "How are you feeling?" she asked, addressing the shaman. "Any better?"

The female nodded, a deep, formal bow of her head. "I am recovering, Captain, thank you. Dr. Solus has exhausted himself to save my sisters. And myself. He's performed miracles: we all expected to die. He's pulled all of us back from joining the ancestors." She dipped her head a little, weariness bleeding through every movement. "All but one, the oldest of our sisters."

"He prayed over the female who died," Wrex said, cutting the silence left when Shepard didn't know how to reply. "Wished for her to find somewhere better." The clan chief sounded as if hearing Mordin's prayer had shocked him out of his rage at last.

Shepard nodded, but didn't reply. Instead, she strode to Dr. Eis's desk, grabbed the arm of the chair and pulled it across the floor to Bakara's bedside. Sitting, she shuffled it a little closer, wanting to keep the discussion between them as much as possible. "I just spoke to him." She lifted her shoulders a couple of centimetres then let them drop. "I wanted to be sure I could trust him, and not just with the genophage cure. He's the head of our research department. I needed to know if we'd end up regretting giving him such a powerful position. Period."

"He regrets his work on the genophage," Bakara said, her voice still so weak that it formed an anathema. "He remains solid in his conviction he was protecting the krogan from the rest of the galaxy, but the excuse has not silenced his guilt." She shifted a little, trying to boost herself higher on the bed. She waved Wrex back into his seat when he leaped up to help. "I'm fine, Wrex." Those wise, gold eyes returned to Shepard. "Mordin punishes himself by returning to Tuchanka every cycle and atones through his exile on Omega … through helping the dispossessed."

Shepard nodded, glad to have her instincts and conclusions corroborated. "Yes. I trust him to do right by the krogan when I give him the go ahead to finish the cure."

Wrex turned into a solid wall of red armour along the right side of her vision. "When you give him permission? Why wouldn't you, Shepard?"

Steeling herself, Shepard pivoted in the chair to stare Wrex in the eye. "I'm not convinced this is the best time." She shrugged and held his stare. "Look at the way you reacted to the shaman and the others being taken. You swore to tear the galaxy apart if anything happened to them. We were on our way—dropped everything to rush right to your aid—and you didn't trust me enough to wait. Then you threatened me and Archangel. You're supposed to be the rational voice of the krogan, Wrex." She relaxed, the leather squeaking beneath her. "How can I cure your people when it's all but certain that, within a century, the krogan will be right back at the galaxy's throat?"

Wrex lunged out of his chair. Shepard held her ground, only a tilted head and a cocked eyebrow answering the challenge. She'd gone straight for the throat, provoking him with the worst version of the truth in order to see his reaction; he deserved a chance to gather himself together.

Bakara reached out to grip Wrex's arm, weak tugs urging him back into his chair. "Is Shepard wrong? If the krogan are cured, will they dwell in peace with the rest of the galaxy or will they seek revenge? Will they work to make Tuchanka a home for new generations, or will they burn down the homes of others?"

Growling, a dragon about to spit fire, Wrex lowered himself back into his chair. "Bakara and I will teach them," he said. "We'll show them a better way." Despite sitting, he still loomed, rigid with anger.

Shepard held firm. "And what happens if you and Bakara are killed?" Her hand shot up, nearly slapping his armour. "Once the rest of the krogan are cured, what stops the factions spoiling for war from destroying all your work and moving against you, then the rest of us?" She gave him long enough to consider her words but not long enough to reply. "We need to bring the krogan into the fold; it's that simple. Nihlus is talking to Grunt right now. We need to bring in a dozen or so youngsters—including the vat grown from Korlus—to train with Archangel."

"Welps?" Wrex scoffed, a gross, offensive sound. "They're barely calloused between their plates."

"Yes, which is exactly why they're the perfect choice." Shepard waited for him to connect the dots before saying, "They aren't involved in your clan wars. They hold no fealty to anyone but you. They're blank slates. All they need is training, and can you think of a better message to the rest of the krogan and the rest of the galaxy?" Waggling her head, she continued, "Well, once the war starts, anyway."

Leaning forward, she gripped both of his forearms; his hands braced against his knees. "If you can round up a dozen older warriors to train with Archangel, we'll get them in there, post them on ships. Battlemasters are more than welcome to come in as instructors." She released him, slapping where her hands rested the moment before. Smiling only with her eyes, she sat up, straight and formal, giving the moment its due. "We're inviting the krogan in, Wrex. It's up to you to accept and step up."

She looked to the shaman before Wrex could reply, unwilling to give up her momentum. "I want you, the other female shamans, and clan leaders to rally the females. Your planet needs rebuilding, and it's time the females stopped languishing in despair and started building a new Tuchanka … a new krogan people who are ready when the cure is." When Shepard looked to Bakara, she could see the delight beaming through even from under her uzluk. "We'll supply recyclers and all the construction equipment you need to stop squatting in squalour and get your pups out under the sun. Garrus spoke of the Gikgah of Niraxahk as an excellent, defensible place to base the unified clans. You're already sheltering there, why not repair it, make it a stronghold and a beacon to the rest of the clans?"

Bakara nodded, her entire body radiating conviction even through her weakness. "I will begin the moment Mordin allows me from this bed. Thank you, Captain."

Shepard smiled, a taut press of lips. She wasn't done yet. "Both you and Wrex will have official seats on the war council. You'll be in on every level of the planning, and we need you to speak up. We need you to participate from the point of view of partners, not with the suspicion and anger of the past." She shrugged and leaned back, cocked a little to one side. "That's all history. From right here, right now, we move forward. Agreed?"

Nervous about her ultimatum shoving Wrex away rather than pulling him in, Shepard met his stare, heart pounding so hard her head and arms felt buoyant and tremulous, as if the bones and joints nervously awaited his reply. What she saw pulled a grin out of the dread. He nodded, just a single vertical jerk of his massive head, but the simple movement allowed her to breathe out.

"And the cure?" he asked, no trace of anger or incrimination in his tone.

Shepard leaned into the bed, resting her forearm along the edge. The time for ultimatums over, she transitioned to a softer, heart to heart sort of posture. "Look, fact is, the salarians screwed the krogan over when they uplifted them. The council needed cannon fodder against the rachni. They panicked, and they done fucked it up. They didn't think about what happened after the war. Lack of foresight is not a mistake I want to make."

She watched Wrex out the corner of her eye while addressing Bakara. He remained relaxed, not showing narrow eyes and curled lip: his rage precursors. Time to push on. "We're not looking for cannon fodder." She met and held both of their stares—gold and then crimson—long enough to draw a nod from each. "I want to take our time and make sure that when we cure the genophage, we don't set the krogan up for something worse down the road."

Bakara let out a long, noisy sigh. "You treat the krogan with a respect and generosity we have yet to earn." She pushed herself up, winding herself in the process, and held her hand out to Shepard. "It would be my honour to call you kaluza."

Shepard smiled when her translator gave her the word sister. Surely she hadn't done anything worthy. Still, she took Bakara's hand, meeting the warm, strong grip with a matching one.

Wrex must have seen the blank glimmer behind Shepard's expression because he nodded. "It means sister," he said, then chuffed softly, "and Bakara is right. You and Vakarian have championed the krogan from the beginning, even when I gave you every reason not to. I'll start looking for candidates to join Archangel." He looked toward Bakara.

"Thank you, Captain," the female said. "The krogan won't let you down."

Shepard squeezed the shaman's hand. "I look forward to watching the krogan shine." She turned to Wrex, offering her hand. Instead, he stood and slapped her on the shoulder. Only the support of the bed at her back kept her from hitting the ground. She rubbed her shoulder, then offered her hand again. "Yep, still hurts like hell." Grinning, she shook his hand. "I'll expect you on the ground team for Horizon. There are some things down there you need to see."

"I'll be there," he said, all the sharp edges ground down.

Shepard strode out of the medbay, then glanced up. "EDI, is the general up?"

"General Vakarian is in the briefing room, Shepard," the AI responded. "Would you like me to let him know you're looking for him?"

"No, thanks, EDI, I'll just head up there and talk to him myself." Despite her words, Shepard caught the scent of fresh muffins and detoured through the galley on her way to the elevator.

"Thank you, Mr. Gardener," she called back over her shoulder, then bit the top off the one in her right hand. "Amb der dubishush."

She heard Garrus talking as soon as she walked through the old armoury door. Pausing to listen, she heard Nyreen on the other end, but the walls muffled their words too much for her to tell what they said. She took another big, messy bite of what really was a fantastic blueberry muffin (must be from a mix) and palmed the briefing room door control.

"Judging from intel Nihlus just passed on, we need to prepare for a couple dozen krogan within the next couple of weeks," he said, standing at the center of the darkened room, the QEC grid active. Lights glimmered off of his armour, the floor beneath his feet all but invisible, making him appear to float.

"Quarters won't be a problem," Nyreen said, "but medical and integration could prove to be an issue. Archangel has a large turian population."

He nodded. "And a fair contingent of salarians. I'm aware of our demographics, Nyreen, thank you." He shrugged his 'I don't care how you do it, just do it' shrug. "We need the krogan, and as long as they remain outside the organization, they'll never trust the rest of us. Start now. Prepare." He chuckled, then glanced behind him, sniffing the air. "We're nearly at Horizon. I'll contact you when we're underway for Feros."

"Yes, sir. Good hunting."

"Wow, C-Sec, you really can float," Shepard whispered, awe dripping from her voice. "I knew there was something special about you the last time we were on Feros. You're magic!"

Garrus chuckled and stepped off the pad. "One hundred percent pure magic." He closed the two metres between them and looked down at her with a cocky grin. "I thought that's why you fell for me."

"You know, it might have been." Shepard grinned up at him as she slipped her arms around his waist. "Damn, General the magical turian, you're intensely sexy when you're generalling. Your people respect you, they're loyal to a fault, and they love you more than the Father of Light loves his diamond tentacle rings." The smile disappeared as she leaned into him, letting out a loud, noisy breath. "You've made yourself one hell of a home on Omega," she said, the slightest tang of regret whispering along the underside of her words. "I feel selfish pulling you away from it."

Shaking his head, Garrus leaned down to rest his cheek against her hair. "Archangel kept me alive when you were gone. It was home because it was your memory." He nuzzled her hair, then pulled her in tight against his side, the calm, sure strength in his arms settling her gut: he'd recovered. "Now, home is wherever you are."

She rested her head in the curve between his keel and arm. "I found my home on the Normandy, curled up next to someone as he read to me." She paused long enough, judging by the fact he stiffened, to let him know about the bad news approaching at FTL. "Since I came back, I've been doubly blessed, and trust me, I know how fragile and rare all of this is." Tightening her grip around his waist, she pushed on. "Rare and fragile enough that I'm not willing to risk it when I don't have to."

"Kahri—"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "I know you want to go groundside on Feros, but you can't risk yourself against reaper tech," she said. Pulling back far enough to meet his eyes, she continued, "Don't worry, I'm extending the same restriction to myself when it comes to the suzerain tech. We can't take the chance they'll overwhelm us. Not until we have a workable defense. Whatever those bastards did to you ... whatever the Enkindler-damned tar spiders are doing to me …." She shook her head, her hair fluttering around her face. "We're not going to make it worse when we don't have to." Taking a deep breath, she pressed her lips tight. "I'll make it an order if I have to."

When he opened his mouth to plead his case, to refuse to allow his mate and his fratrin take his risks, she reached up to stroke her palm along the length of his mandible, gently silencing him.

"Not because I can't lose you." She shrugged and waggled her head. "Well, not just because I can't lose you, but because you are one of the strategic minds behind this war. You're the hands-on head of Archangel. The war effort needs you." She stepped back and pressed her hands on either side of his keel. "It needs all three of us. It needs Mordin, the shaman, and Wrex, Tali and Legion, Liara and even Miranda. We can't sacrifice any of them or ourselves without extreme cause."

She saw how much he wanted to argue, but also saw the voice in the back of his head—probably speaking with his father's voice—telling him that she was right. When he stepped up after her death, when he'd started Archangel, he'd taken responsibility for everyone under his command. They would survive his loss, but the grieving and adjustment period amounted to time they couldn't afford to waste. The loss of morale if he died might be the end of the war effort.

"Okay," he said at last. "You, Nihlus, and Martin will go after the reaper tech, and I'll go after the leviathan tech." He held out his arms, an invitation back into his embrace. She accepted, closing her eyes as he bent down to press his face against her hair, breathing her in.

After a good thirty seconds, he nodded and nuzzled her ear. "You're right, without us … without Nihlus … the war effort will suffer. Until the rest of the galaxy becomes invested, we've got to fight smart."

Grinning, Shepard kissed his cheek. "You're one hell of a general." She tipped her head behind them toward the door. "Horizon, we can both do. I invited Wrex to suit up as well. He and the shaman are joining the war council." A quick breath and she pulled away, taking his hand to lead him to the door. "I'll explain everything while I suit up."