Disclaimer: Everything recognisable is Bioware's. Everything else is mine.

A/N: Welcome all to the third chapter of News. Again, as ever, I must extend a big thank you everyone who read, enjoyed, favourited, followed, commented or didn't on the story. I take every comment and suggestion onboard and do my best to improve as a writer in light of them. This is the first of two chapters I've uploaded/am uploading this time round. The next will be along in a day or so. I hope you enjoy them both, for I thoroughly enjoyed writing them. I certainly will keep this work updated, but as I said in my last note, my schedule hops about a bit because of work and other writing projects I've got on the go.

My sincere and humble thanks again for all of your kind support and suggestions.

Yours faithfully,

L.G.

Day 1

Reflecting on his father's plan to go to war brings Kolyat Krios to a decision

The first thing a newcomer to the Citadel would notice, outside of its grandeur and size obviously, was the fact that it lacked a proper day-to-night cycle. There was no dimming of the ambient light on the Presidium to signal the coming of the evening, no early morning haze or dusky twilight. It was high-noon eternally in terms of both light and bustling activity, and it was through that din that Kolyat Krios strode as he made his way along one of the many bridges that spanned the artificial lakes and streams on the Presidium. Anger shortened his gait, and he held his shoulders up defensively as he moved through the crowds. It was a rare thing for him to visit the Citadel's most affluent districts and their manicured parks, his apartment and workplace being down in the Wards, but today-

Today he needed to see water.

To be reminded a little of Kahje.

Of open skies and endless oceans and spice and welcome and...home.

It was the only thing, outside of a night on the tiles that he had no inclination of having, that would settle his mind after the day's events.

Looking back, he should have known that he was in for trouble when his father's message arrived yesterday evening. It piqued his interest as soon as he read it, and though it was as non-specific as his notes always were, he'd gleaned from the use of the word 'must' that there was something important that needed talking through. Were this not the case, Thane would have written something like, 'We might discuss-' or 'Would you care to discuss-' instead.

It was his habit to use words carefully, when he used them at all.

With all this in mind, Kolyat spent his monochrome workday wondering over possible things his father might want to bring up, and had actually...almost...been looking forward to spending a bit of time in the blissful warmth of his room at Huerta Memorial. Were he less proud, he'd find it quite easy to curl up and snooze in there for an hour or so. The warmth demanded it of any self-respecting Drell.

Now though, not even the memory of that perfect ambient temperature could warm him. It'd been almost an hour since he left Huerta after visiting his father. As it turned out, he'd been right about there having been something particular that needed discussing, but had amended his thoughts about it being important as soon as he fully understood what it was.

'Selfish' was a better word for it in his opinion.

'Gods-awful' was a close second place, with 'Unwelcome' and 'Confusing' tying for third.

A low hissing rumble of agitation escaped Kolyat as his thoughts came and went, though it was as lost amid the crowd as he was.

Nothing made sense any more.

Over the almost seven months since his father arrived on the Citadel seeking medical care, Kolyat, despite his reservations, had done his best to be as present in his life as he could. He didn't much like the man, and hell if he forgave him for abandoning his family, but he wasn't heartless. In that time he'd watched him go from resigned to death, to wrenchingly ill in the period immediately after his operation, to taking the first steps along in his recovery, to being healthier than he'd been in fifteen years, and he'd thought that, despite their differences, they were making good progress. He made the trip between Zakera Ward and Huerta every third day, his shifts permitting, and spent hours sat by his father's bedside either reading with him, learning little bits about the Gods he praised or just sitting quietly as he slept, trying to ignore the fact that, animosity aside, he was glad to be there with him.

After a time he'd felt secure enough to start giving of himself as well, allowing Thane to get to know him in return. He told him of his job at C-Sec, -I'll be beginning my Officer's training soon father-, of his modest home, -It's in Zakera's housing district. Block C, door 16. It's more of a box in the wall than a home really but...it's mine..-, of the people he knew at work, -Ollie's my supervisor...there's Bryn and Scalia too, from tech-division...they're..ok..-, and of places on the Wards he liked to visit when he had time off.

Nothing more personal than these vague niceties was shared, but Thane never pushed, and shared bits of himself in return for each titbit he received. Granted, they didn't quite match up topic-wise to what Kolyat told him about, but he shared nonetheless. Small things. In place off talking about work, he spoke of tea. Instead of his housing arrangements, he named and quoted from his favourite poems. And rather than talking in any real depth about his former teammates, he regaled him with harmless anecdotes from his time aboard the Normandy. The one about tricking Shepard with something called a 'Rubik's Cube' was his personal favourite so far. Thane had actually become something like animated as he spoke of how the Commander neglected to notice, in mixing up the cube-thing for him to decode during one of his stays in the medical bay, that he was watching the movements of her hands as she did so. It took her hours to realise quite how he'd managed to repeatedly return the thing in perfect order within a minute of having it passed to him.

The old man was crafty, Kolyat would give him that.

As the months passed and the visits became less tense, they began branching out a bit. They took to going on long walks around the hospital together. Kolyat made a point of borrowing Scalia's holo-cam, and had filled its memory twice-over with pictures from all over the Citadel. He'd bring them along to show his father when he came to see him, and they'd spent hours picking through them either in silence, or in an almost-comfortable-not-quite-silence where Thane would ask him about the holos that caught his eye especially.

It was a break in the monotony of his day if nothing else.

And slowly, inexorably, with the passing of each month and the spending of quality time, Kolyat had begun to feel that he was coming to understand his father. Or at least coming to understand what trying to understand him would entail.

After today though-

After sitting across a table from him, trying not to show how much the words, 'I am leaving the Citadel to contribute to Commander Shepard's war effort' affected him, Kolyat was damn sure he'd never understand his father at all. The scene flashed before him with remembered clarity as he mingled through the crowds surrounding him. He spoke not a word, Drellish recollections being entirely private outside of their use in conversation, but couldn't keep his expression from blackening with remembered anger as it passed.

-I stare in disbelief, helpless for seconds, and he stares back, inscrutable and calm. 'You're joking...right?' I say, watching his eyes and listening intently for any hint of clarification. 'No.' he says. The word is crisp, clipped and efficient. Finality incarnate. His chest is silent as he speaks.-

So taken was he by the memory that he barely pulled up in time when a flash of blue and an exasperated, "HEY! Watch it!" signalled his almost having a head-on collision with an Asari who was walking in the opposite direction. Faintly disorientated at being wrenched from his recollections so suddenly, he drew breath to curse but thought better of it. Being in expensive places brought him within a spit's distance of expensive people, and those could, with the passing of a credit chit, wreck his career before it'd even begun. With that in mind he swallowed back the kneejerk, 'You blind son-of-a-bitch!' that was his go-to in times of shock and/or stress, and instead dipped his chin and muttered, "Oh...sorry" before moving past the woman and quickly putting distance between them to escape her vitriol. He sneered to himself as soon as he was past her, disgusted that his words sounded as hollow as his father's chest always had.

Though outwardly stoic, the Drell are a vocal people - even the quietest of them possessing a vocal range four times that of the average Human - and they use their highest and lowest pitches and tones both to imbue their language with the emotion behind their words, and to put across basic ideas without the need for words at all. Only very simple ones of course.

'I'm angry'

'I love you'

'I'm scared'

'You're safe here'

Things like that.

Without those tones, which resonate deeply within the speaker's chest and feel, to anyone who happens to be touching him, similar to pressing a hand against an amplifier when the volume is turned up, the language loses its flavour. The person speaking sounds detached and out of place, like he's simply talking, not actually connecting with the person he's conversing with.

That distance, that lack of connection, was what Kolyat remembered most keenly about his father's voice as he was growing up. Thane was a quiet man beyond the means of most quiet men, his chest almost always silent. Lacking the resonances that allow Drell to emote through sound alone. There were occasions where the veneer would break...particularly when one of those old-fashioned songs would play and he'd scoop up his son to dance crazy...but even that stopped when Kolyat reached the age of about nine.

As a child, he had never understood why his father was like that. His mother always explained it away, whispering to him about how Thane liked to be silent because it meant he could win often at the games Kolyat was always trying to play with him. The fact that he actually played those games more rarely than he used his full vocal range had never clicked back then.

…Well…no…That wasn't quite fair…

He played along. A request to play hide-and-seek would be met with a nod, and smile, and a measured 'Of course, son'...but even though he knew the game, he wouldn't hide. Wouldn't play. He'd leave the room, usually going to the kitchen to linger near mother while Kolyat counted to whichever number he'd picked, but that was it. Back then he'd thought it was just father being father. It was something to poke gentle fun at. He was bad at playing games, and awful at reading bedtime stories because he didn't follow the tone-pattern the way mother would.

Now though, Kolyat knew better.

He knew what Thane was, and what a boon silence would be to a man like him. Knowing that what had confused him as a boy was at least partly a result of years of training under the Compact made his childhood memories haunting in a way, and forced him to re-examine his thoughts about his father in light of facts he wasn't at all comfortable with.

What he could face though was the fact that, while the silence was something that he was used to, and indeed something he was slowly becoming able to get past as he and his father took their tentative steps closer to one another, the sudden feeling of distance that accompanied it during his talk with him today was jarring. It wasn't that Thane had pulled away from him in any sense. Kolyat just felt that something which could easily break all of the bridges he'd been working so hard on making between them had come right out of left field, and there seemed to be little to nothing he could do about it. The memory of their confrontation returned unbidden, his voice and his father's going back and forth in his mind.

-'But father' I say, trying to keep how shocked I am from reaching my voice, 'you've only just got back on your feet!'

'I have been properly physically able for the past two months, Kolyat.' he replies, his words rich with finality but otherwise toneless.

I chuff my disbelief and unease openly, enjoying the fact that he blinks to cover how his secondary eyelids snap closed in response. He always did disapprove of sudden noises. 'Physically able to walk around the hospital, sure' I retort, 'but you're not fit to fight!'

Father draws himself up in his chair. 'My role will be advisory only' he says, 'Commander Shepard said herself that she will not risk my safety on the frontlines. I need never leave the Normandy.'

My composure slips. 'For the love of-' I begin, then purse my lips tightly, unwilling to show myself up in front of him. I force down the bile in my throat and scrub a hand across my face before snapping, 'Taking an advisory role on a warship puts you no further from danger than if you were on the frontlines!'-

The words rang in Kolyat's ears as though they'd just been spoken, and he pushed his recollections away before they could really take hold. The last thing he needed was another almost-collision caused by solipsistic inattention.

As he was carried further along the bridge by the crowds, he looked around in search of something to focus on that wasn't his boiling discomfort at the situation with his father. Given the precedent he'd set for himself through his more recent years, this shouldn't have been hard. He was masterful at ignoring things that he just didn't want to deal with. Now though, nothing seemed to hold his attention for long. Not the dappled collection of blues, silvers and pinks that made up the crowd he was engulfed by; not the little gardened island that the bridge was slowly leading him towards; not the changing billboards flashing on the sides of a couple of the larger buildings, or the vendor he just passed who was selling various flavours of crushed ice in cones.

It all failed him, and damn it he knew why.

Loathe as he was to admit it, and though he'd usually avoid doing so like the Gods-damned plague, he knew that he wouldn't be able to settle until he actually set his mind to dealing with what was troubling him. He had to focus now, to really think the situation out and decide what to do about it, so he abandoned the crowd, found himself a quiet spot by the bridge's railing, propped his elbows on it and stared out across the lake.

And though he fought it…facing himself didn't seem so difficult when he could gaze at the Citadel's own Encompassing while he did it.

He found he could acknowledge the fact that, though it felt like a betrayal of the mistrust and animosity he still felt towards him in some measure, he was worried by his father's decision to travel on the Normandy again. This was more than worry about those bridges he'd been trying to make though. He had too many memories of him struggling during his recovery, and had spent too many nights at his bedside sure that he was about to lose him, for anything like what he was proposing to even resemble a good idea.

His health was returning, sure, but Kalahira it'd been a close thing. And now, when he'd just started to feel like he was gaining ground...getting his father back in small ways...he was up and leaving the damn Citadel to play war. The decision seemed too sudden, too quick for it to have been rightly thought through and, honestly, the neatness with which the man seemed intent on excising himself from his life again- It…reached him. Hell, if he examined it closely enough he'd admit, if only to himself, that it upset him. And that irked the ever-living shit out of him.

In a small, petty part of his mind he couldn't help feeling sore over the fact that, even though they'd been...almost-sort-of bonding for the past half a galactic-standard year...his father had found a worthier cause than his son to devote his time to. He knew that was a selfish thought. He knew it was childish and petty and closed-minded and small, not to mention unrepresentative of the fact that the 'worthier cause' was the biggest war this cycle had ever witnessed. But Gods damn it was it too much to ask that his father, whose company, by the way, he found he could actually...tolerate, didn't jump ship every chance he got?

With a hiss-edged-huff Kolyat laced his fingers together and lowered his head, closing his eyes for a moment and forcing himself to loosen his grip on that part of his reasoning. Of course he still felt wronged by his father's want to up and leave again. No species in the galaxy could hold a candle to the Drell when it came to nursing grudges. But he knew he couldn't use the 'it's not fair on me' argument in this situation. He was grown now, more or less. Young still but grown. He had a job. Acquaintances. His own place. A life. And his father had helped him get those things...albeit in a small and very oblique manner. Hell, if it hadn't been for him and Shepard-

-Blue eyes glare at me down the barrel of a loaded gun. It's held level with my chest by steady hands. She doesn't move to breathe, her focus solely on me. I can feel it on my scales. It's…heavy.-

His eyes flickered open as the memory faded, something about the thought of the Commander sticking in his mind. He knew almost nothing about the woman outside of what the news spouted, and the fact that she'd convinced the now Commander Bailey to let him work for C-Sec instead of rotting in prison. Really speaking though, he didn't care to know more. Didn't need to. For her help, he was grateful, and he did his best to honour the faith she'd shown in him. Her decision to take father with her confused him, but she'd made it and..

Wait-

Kolyat gave a quick double-blink as that thought looped back on him.

It was her decision-

Suddenly his disperate wanderings about his father and Shepard snapped into sharp relief, and he realised that he'd been approaching things from entirely the wrong angle. He knew damn well that he couldn't change his father's mind about travelling with the Commander again, but that didn't mean he couldn't try and talk her out of allowing him to go.

She'd likely decided to take him without having all the facts. Thane certainly wouldn't have told her about the problems he'd had during his recovery, so how could she know?

Perhaps she'd reconsider if she did.

Turning back the way he came, Kolyat doubled his stride and headed for the nearest Rapid Transit terminal to call a shuttle. He didn't have the Commander's extranet address, so contacting her directly was out, but he did have two things which would make getting hold of her possible. The first was the fact that his father had mentioned that Shepard would be returning to collect him in eight or so days. Thus, he had a time-scale to work with.

And the second was his position at C-Sec. While he didn't have the necessary clearance to bother Citadel Control himself, not having earned his Officer's badge and the codes that come with it yet, he had access to people who DID. All he'd have to do is find himself a willing assistant, have that assistant locate the Normandy's last departure date, and then count forward eight days from it to find a give-or-take estimate of when the Commander would be back. If he kept an ear to the ground with customs around that time, he'd be able to take her aside when she disembarked and express his concern.

When he reached the terminal he hurriedly input his destination [C-Sec HQ Zakera Ward] and the serial number of the X3M idling nearest to him to activate it for his journey. As the shuttle hummed into life he shucked himself into the driver's seat, hitched it back a couple of inches so that he could drive and breathe at the same time, and laid his hands carefully over the haptic interface before him to get under-way.

The doors sealed with a soft hiss and gingerly, carefully he guided the vehicle into the transit lane which lead back towards Zakera Ward. Once he was happy with his trajectory, he clicked on the autopilot and activated his Omni-tool. Glancing between it and the lane that stretched out before him, he kept his speed steady and pinged two of his contacts. He was pretty sure that both of them had the access he needed, and they both owed him a favour too. He had a mind to use that to his advantage if he could.

..

One ping..

..

Two pings..

..

Then..a voice..

/Kolyat?/

As soon as he felt it coming, Kolyat suppressed the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips before it could rightly make itself known. Scalia would be the one to pick up, wouldn't she. The way her voice echoed, she was probably working under something gargantuan in the tech-labs back in Zakera's C-Sec branch. The woman never seemed to leave the office.

Keeping his eyes on the road and giving the occasional touch to the steering interface to keep the notoriously truculent guidance system in line, Kolyat answered in his best dispassionate tone.

"Yeah. I need to call in a favour, Scalia. Got a minute?"

/Are you driving, Kolyat? I can hear cars/

"Answer my question."

/Answer mine/

He paused a moment, rolling his eyes. "Yes."

/That's dangerous you know/

"Whatever. The favour, Scalia?"

/Depends what it is/ she retorted, the muted hiss of the can of Tupari she'd just opened following her words.

"You've got administrative access to all the databases on the system, right?"

/Why don't I like where this is going?/

"I need you to look up a ship's last departure date for me. It's important"

/What, the ship, or the reason you want me to hack Citadel Control to find it for you?/

An irritated rumble escaped him. "Scalia-"

/All right, all right/ she huffed, echoing that rumble of his just because she could and taking a sip from her drink. /What's the ship's name?/

There was no way to sugar-coat this, so he didn't try. "It's the SSV Normandy SR2"

..

There was a pause…then a hail of coughing...and then ragged words. /WHAT? The Normandy? As in Commander SHEPARD'S Normandy? Are you NUTS?/

Kolyat chuffed indignantly. "You're overreacting" he said, glancing to his right and slotting through the traffic where he could. It was always heavy at this time in the cycle. Everyone seemed to be moving between shifts.

/Says the Drell who just asked me to crack an Alliance warship! No, no. THE Alliance warship!/

"I didn't ask you to do that" he snapped, before catching himself and taking a breath. Arguing wouldn't get him anywhere. "All I need is its last departure date."

It took Scalia almost a full minute to respond. He only knew the line hadn't died on him because he could hear the uneasy trill that was the tell for Drellish discomfort echoing up as she breathed.

/If I do it, will you tell me why you need to know?/

He actually had to think about his answer to that one. He'd known Scalia a good five months now and found her...bearable. She was a friendly face at C-Sec; someone who had talked his ears raw, and who he knew would listen if he needed a shoulder. Not that he ever thought he would mind, but there it was.

"If I don't" he said, coming back at her the way she usually did at him, "would you do it anyway?"

Soft laughter came over the channel at that. Not enjoying the fact he'd caused it took more effort than he'd ever let on. /Would you try and do it yourself if I didn't do it for you?/

"Yes."

She huffed. /You're terrible with computers Kolyat. Bailey'd find out for sure/

"I know."

/And he'd beat your arse for it. You'd lose your slot for Officer's training/

"I know that too."

..

/You're trying to guilt me into doing it for you, aren't you/

He feigned innocence, but answered through a smirk. "Am I?"

/Yes!/

"Is it working?"

..

..

/Yes/

..

"…So-"

/Are you coming back to the station?/

"Will you have the information I need in half an hour or so? Traffic's awful."

/Yes/

"Then yes."

/See you soon/

Closing the channel and keying off his Omni-tool, Kolyat refocused on the lane ahead of him. He didn't know what his chances were of having the Commander actually listen to him, or if he'd catch her at all when she came back to the Citadel. Plans can change without warning, so he'd need to be watchful of the roster if he wanted to have half a chance. What he did know though, was that she was a reasonable woman. Hell, look at how she'd handled his cataclysmic mistake in judgement with Joram Talid. She'd not only been halfway to talking him down when C-Sec burst in and interrupted her, she'd wrangled him the best deal possible, all on good faith.

Yes...if anyone would listen to reason it'd be Shepard.

He just hoped what he had to tell her sounded half as good when he spoke it as it did in his head.