Chapter 31

SSV Normandy, Salarian Union Space

Miranda wasted little time jumping into her work as Executive Officer. Never comfortable as merely a passenger, she was eager to start contributing. And given the ship's current condition, there was much she could help with.

Shepard hadn't been exaggerating. The list of tasks begging for an officer's attention was substantial, with each escalated item seemingly as urgent as the next. Everywhere she looked there were signs of the incomplete refitting of the ship, glaring deficiencies in staffing, and a backlog of critical systems issues. In fact, after having an opportunity to review the state of the Normandy, Miranda realized just how impressive Shepard's incursion into the Trebia system—the bloodiest warzone in the galaxy—had been. She even felt a twinge of guilt when she considered how much he'd risked in order to reach her and her people on Gellix. She couldn't allow him to take those kinds of chances again in the future. Not for her.

But far from feeling overwhelmed by the daunting job ahead of her, Miranda felt invigorated.

What she and the others had accomplished while working with Anita Goyle had been no small affair. They'd saved countless lives and effectively shattered what was left of the Reaper-compromised Systems Alliance Intelligence Service. That work had given her purpose at a time when she had felt adrift, alienated from her previous life within Cerberus and separated from the man she'd fallen in love with.

But being back on board the Normandy, thrust into an old familiar role and reunited with Shepard, she felt electrified and alive.

And though there was a mountain of work specific to the Normandy's operation ahead of her, Miranda's first order of business was to prepare for the imminent departure of the former Cerberus scientists and their families. With transport secured, she had only a small window of time to make all the necessary arrangements ahead of their arrival on the Citadel. Almost immediately after Shepard's command staff meeting had wrapped up, she'd barricaded herself in his quarters, spending hours at his terminal, meticulously crafting cover identities for the refugees and ensuring the fabricated records would hold up against the highest levels scrutiny.

At the same time that she was shaping the scientists' fictitious lives, Miranda poured over their true histories, searching for red flags, significant behavioral problems or any indication that they hadn't been entirely truthful about their motivations to abandon Cerberus. The task seemed straightforward enough when she began, but she soon found it a far more difficult challenge than she'd anticipated.

The data wasn't the problem. The records EDI had on file, while not entirely up-to-date, were considerable, detailing much of the work the researchers had been involved in over the course of their Cerberus careers. And, unsurprisingly, much of what she discovered revealed experimentation and research that pushed the boundaries of what might be considered responsible scientific exploration. In fact, the work many of these people had been engaged in could very easily be judged harshly by the Systems Alliance or seen by the greater scientific community as disregarding long-established ethical guidelines.

But the Illusive Man had demanded that of them. He had recruited them all for the explicit purpose of moving humanity forward, encouraging them to go beyond the constraints of traditional science and to throw off the shackles that hindered meaningful discovery. He'd empowered them, taught them to be bold. He was desperate to close the technological gap with the other spacefaring species and elevate humanity to a position of influence and power.

Miranda could appreciate how that sort of unrestrained scientific pursuit might seem reckless to outsiders, but she wasn't necessarily willing to reject the strategy entirely. After all, without the approach that Cerberus had pioneered, Shepard would never have been revived. She would have never known him.

Frustrated by the limitations of the archives, she decided to conduct personal interviews with more than a dozen of the researchers, looking to alleviate any lingering doubts she had about their characters. But in speaking with them, learning more about the bleeding-edge research they'd been involved in and hearing how passionately they spoke about the science, her perception of them became more unclear.

It was like looking into a mirror, her own past staring back at her, haunting her.

Miranda had been just as committed to her work for Cerberus as these people had been in pursuing the goals the Illusive Man had set before them. In fact, the devotion these men and women once had for the organization paled in comparison to the unwavering passion she had once displayed. How could she judge these scientists objectively when she herself had so much red on her own ledger?

In the end, she decided to go with her gut. After all, she had once bragged to Shepard that she was an excellent judge of character. She picked out three of the scientists, including Gavin Archer, concluding that their work for Cerberus was just a little too unsavory to risk jeopardizing the rest of the group's prospects for amnesty. They were also the most isolated among the researchers, lacking family on board or strong relationships with their peers. They would still be transported to the Citadel along with the others, but once there, steps would be taken to isolate them from the rest.

The following day, the Normandy met the Shadow Broker's contracted freighter at the prearranged coordinates. It was a remote region of the Serpent Nebula, far away from any established colonies, way stations, or commercial transit routes.

Shepard, Miranda, and Liara all boarded the vessel, taking the time to tour the big cargo ship to ensure it was suitable for the task and to confirm the crew's reliability. Satisfied, they began ferrying the refuges over via the shuttles, making several trips before everyone was transferred over. Kasumi, Zaeed and Kolyat were among the last to make the trip over, piloting the bulky Columbia shuttle off the Normandy, delivering it to the freighter as part of the payment for transit.

Ultimately, it hadn't been overly difficult for Miranda to convince Zaeed to join their Citadel-based operation. With his vendetta against Vido Santiago finally satisfied, he seemed almost eager to pursue something even more ambitious and to contribute to the war effort. He hadn't even driven up the price of his contract, happily accepting her initial offer. Miranda still viewed him as crude and offensive on a number of levels, but there appeared to be something more to the man than she'd given him credit for. And for whatever reason, Shepard certainly seemed to trust him.

Oriana was staying. As Miranda predicted, her sister had been thrilled about the opportunity for a permanent spot on board the Normandy. Still, saying goodbye to Kasumi and Kolyat was difficult for her. Since joining Goyle's select group of operatives, she'd grown close to them both, rarely straying far from their sides.

Miranda comforted her with the knowledge that it wouldn't be long before the ship found its way back to the Citadel. In fact, it was entirely conceivable that Kasumi and the others might eventually rejoin Shepard on the Normandy. She knew he'd certainly welcome their help. He valued their unique skills and experience tremendously, trusting in their abilities and respecting their council like few others in the galaxy.

But things were still so unsettled. The arrival of Reapers had thrown the world into chaos and there was no telling were all their individual paths might lead.

The distraction of the ex-Cerberus scientists removed, Miranda spent much of the rest of the journey to the summit immersed in her new—and old—duties. She was single-minded in her desire to pull the Normandy back to something closer to the level of efficiency it had operated at during its maiden voyage, during her original stint as ship's XO.

While she had been dealing with the preparations to transfer the refugees off-ship, she'd made a cursory review of the Normandy's existing crew. But even after that brief appraisal, the deficiencies she would need to address became glaringly obvious. It was unlikely that they'd have the opportunity to bring on additional people to fill the voids for at least another several weeks and Miranda was determined to find ways to maximize the coverage at critical stations.

She set to work examining the individual crewmembers' skills and experience, judging exactly what she had to work with and searching for a means to optimize their duties on board. And though the ship was dreadfully understaffed, she still viewed the situation as well within her considerable abilities to manage. The fact that many of the youngest crewmen had never served on an active combat tour complicated matters, but she could make it work.

She eventually settled on a modified watch rotation schedule, one that would ensure the most expert crew members were distributed evenly throughout the duty shifts, helping to compensate for the others' lack of experience. She also approached Moreau, Lieutenants Vega and Cortez, Gabby, and Ken, speaking with them all individually. They were by far the most seasoned and capable members of the crew and she had ideas about how each of them could contribute further, helping to bring the younger people along at an accelerated pace.

Miranda found that one unexpected benefit of the predominately young and inexperienced crew was that her acceptance into a position of authority was more graciously received than she anticipated. She still received her fair share of suspicious glances, as well as the typical leering she'd long ago become accustomed to, but the amount of pushback she endured was much less severe than what would have been the case had the ship been fully staffed with veteran Navy servicemen and officers. Once she'd demonstrated her vast knowledge of the ship and her considerable experience, most of the Alliance people fell in line and the hesitant, uneasy looks she received began to vanish.

On the morning of her third full day serving as Executive Officer, and with just a few hours remaining until the Normandy arrived at the summit coordinates, Miranda decided it was time to seek out Chief Adams and try to make peace with the man. She'd already spoken to him on several occasions, in passing, about various ship-related business. But each time there had been a palpable tension between them. She understood that she and Jack had likely hurt his pride after their encounter on Arcturus, but the sense of hostility she was getting from him seemed disproportionate. He was a key, senior member of Shepard's crew and she couldn't allow the relationship to deteriorate any further.

She found him at his primary post in Engineering. Daniels and Donnelly were also there, having just arrived for their normal shifts. She gave them a friendly nod before asking them to leave and allow her and their supervisor a few minutes of privacy.

"Something I can do for you, XO?" he said, barely glancing up from his console as she approached, his tone even and expressionless.

She ignored his subtle display of contempt and forced a thin smile. "I believe I owe you an apology for what occurred on Arcturus Station, Chief," she said. "I realize we placed you in an awkward situation. It was regrettable we couldn't be more upfront with you during the mission, but time was at the essence. And, of course, leaving you incapacitated wasn't ideal." Miranda was struggling to force the words out. Apologies had never come naturally for her. She simply wasn't practiced in the art, rarely having committed errors or having felt the need to mend someone else's damaged feelings.

She cleared her throat softly. "I just want you to know that if I could go back and replay the event, I would have done something different." She was lying, of course. The only thing she regretted about the mission on Arcturus Station was that she'd allowed Oriana to be injured. This entire charade was a means to an end, a step toward mending the man's apparently fragile pride.

He glanced up from his console, met her gaze for a mere moment, before returning his attention to his work. "Not a problem, Miss Lawson," he said. "You did what you felt needed to be done to save the station."

Miranda frowned, sensing he was holding something back. Was her apology that dreadfully insincere? She wasn't going to allow this ridiculous awkwardness to continue. "I feel like there's something more that's been bothering you, Chief. Are you sure there's no problem between us?"

"No ma'am. The Captain's made it perfectly clear. You're the XO and I respect his orders."

"I didn't ask if you understood the Captain's decision to appoint me as ship's Executive Officer. I know you're not an idiot. I want to know if I can rely on you to follow my orders as dutifully as you do Shepard's. I won't tolerate hesitation from the crew or anyone looking to undermine my authority." This really wasn't going well, Miranda thought to herself. She just wasn't good at coddling people.

Adams exhaled impatiently, finally turning to face her. "You won't have a problem with me, XO. I'll do my job and you'll get your due respect. But you're right, I'm not a moron. For instance, I can use the nets as well as the next guy. And I've seen the kind of work you did for Cerberus."

She sighed. "I see. Well, I understand that some of what you may have read about my actions for Cerberus, without proper context, might seem disturbing. But my past is my past. I won't shy away from it. However, I need you to put that aside while we work together on this ship and do our part to serve the Captain. You're a senior staff member and the resentment you have for me needs to stop. We need to be okay with each other."

The Chief was turning red again. "Permission to speak freely, XO?" he said.

Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Granted."

"First off, don't think for a moment I'm not prepared to do everything in my power to ensure that this ship is in perfect fighting trim," Adams said. "And if the Captain feels that putting you in this position is going to help with the war effort, then so be it. There were always going to be necessary evils we'd need to accept after the Reapers got here. But just get this straight, you and I are never going to be okay." He raised his arm and tapped out a quick command on his Omni-tool. A series of holo windows appeared a second later. One of them displayed an after-action mission report, the Cerberus logo prominently displayed on the header. He'd obviously pulled it from the heavily redacted documents the Illusive Man had released on the nets, the ones that detailed some of Miranda's more questionable activities. "It says here you led a raid on the Emmerson Navy Research Lab on Shanxi back in '79 and stole some experimental propulsion tech. Only, your guys were messy about it and decided to detonate a small thermobaric device to cover your tracks."

Miranda felt her stomach drop. She could see where this was going.

He waved his hand and cycled to a new holo window. It was the service file of a young soldier. The man's resemblance to Adams was unmistakable. "This was my kid brother, Aaron. He was one of the four Marines you murdered that day. There wasn't much of him left to bury other than a set of charred dog tags."

Miranda gazed at the image of the young man before closing her eyes and nodding slowly. She remembered that op. She remembered them all. But Adams didn't have all the facts. Their objective hadn't really been the experimental drive core technology. That was simply the misinformation they'd used to conceal their true purpose there. In actuality, they went to Shanxi to steal the Rachni DNA samples and associated genetic material stored within the adjacent bio lab. She had extracted the material herself while the rest of her infiltration team conducted the diversionary raid on the Navy hanger and set the explosive device. Their intel told them to only expect mech-based security within that section of the base and the bomb's yield was adjusted to destroy only the hangers and lab facilities, sparing the barracks and admin facilities. But the information was flawed. The human Marine detail had only just been assigned to the site and their impromptu patrol of the compound had taken the Cerberus operators by surprise.

She had already lost two of her team when she made the call to blow the device. The rest of the Cerberus agents were clear, but the Marines were still within the blast radius. She hadn't hesitated. She'd been told of the vital nature of the mission and been ordered to do whatever it took to secure the samples and cover their tracks. When she returned to the Illusive Man and presented the biological data they'd recovered, he'd been pleased. He called the unfortunate loss of life acceptable. She remembered not losing much sleep over it at the time.

"You people were reckless and cruel," Adams said. "There was no need to blow that hanger, no need to kill those men. You'd already gotten what you came for." He paused and took a breath, trying to reign in his fury, but failing. "If you weren't wearing that uniform and didn't have the blessing of the Captain, I'd kill you where you stand."

Miranda didn't flinch. The Chief was angry and understandably so. He'd lost someone dear to him and she'd been responsible for it. But she didn't fear him. He was a large man, but not dangerous to her, even without her biotics or any other sort of weapon. In fact, she could probably snap his neck in less than three seconds if she put her mind to it. She decided to ignore his threat.

But in that moment, part of her also yearned for the cold simplicity her old self provided. That ruthless, uncompromising woman wouldn't have especially cared about the consequences of the mission. She certainly hadn't back in 2179. It had been a success, their objective accomplished. That Miranda Lawson wouldn't have given a second thought to this man's feelings on the matter. It was immaterial. He couldn't possibly appreciate the scope of what they had been seeking to achieve or understand the urgency of their actions. They'd been searching for ways to combat a threat that the Illusive Man had said was imminent. He'd said he feared a devastating enemy was coming for them, closing in on the galaxy. He had been right.

But she wasn't that same, coldblooded operative anymore. Not really. She knew she had blood on her hands and the story of Adams' brother served to only reinforce that burden of responsibility further. Her icy, armored exterior was largely gone now and the knife of regret pierced her side all the deeper.

When she spoke again, her voice was calm and measured. "There are many things in my past that I'm not especially proud of," she said. "And I won't deny my involvement in the operation that resulted in your brother's death. You clearly have the evidence. And I would apologize, tell you how much I regret it, if I thought it would bring you any comfort or be received by you as sincere. But I know it won't bring you comfort. You've made your feelings clear and I respect that. But as long as I hold this position, you're going to have to put it aside. You're the chief engineer and this ship cannot operate at its best without you."

"I'll do my duty, Miss Lawson," he said. "This ship, this crew, they're precious to me. I'm not going to do anything to endanger them even if it means I have to take orders from you."

"Good," she said and then took a half step closer to him, narrowing her eyes. "Now, allow me to make this absolutely clear. I will not tolerate any further hostility or threats from you. You will do your job and afford me at least the bare minimum level of respect my post demands. And, if by some miracle we both survive this war, perhaps there will be time to settle this matter between us."

He glared back at her but said nothing.

"I'll take your silence for understanding," Miranda said. "As you were, Chief." She then turned on her heel and marched out of the compartment.

Entering the lift and hitting the button for the Crew Deck, Miranda exhaled heavily as the doors slid shut. EDI's voice came over the intercom a moment later.

"Miss Lawson, would you like me to advise the Captain of Chief Adam's aggression toward you?" EDI said "It seemed… inappropriate."

She gave a pained smile. "No," she said. "Thank you, EDI. I will handle the situation myself. I don't want Shepard worrying about it."

"Very well. Logging you out, XO Lawson."

Exiting the elevator at the Crew Deck, Miranda immediately tried to put the scene in Engineering behind her. Normally, she was excellent at compartmentalizing those sorts of things, burying them deep down and keeping them from becoming distractions. But even that simple task was becoming more and more difficult.

She took another deep, cleansing breath and strode over to the kitchen. She gave a nod to the attendant as she helped herself to some hot tea from the beverage station. "You know, these talks might go on for quite some time, Serviceman," Miranda said. "I'm sure you've already considered that the salarian metabolism operates at a much higher rate than ours and that they'll likely demand a good deal of their native cuisine to be readily available." She stirred some sugar into her tea. "And then there's the krogan. Who knows when one of those beasts might have a craving for a roasted varren leg or something else as equally vile?" She glanced up at the young man and gave a good-natured smile.

He was staring back at her, his mouth slightly agape, looking aghast.

"I'm joking, Serviceman," she said and sighed. "Apparently I need to work on my delivery. As you were."

"Uh… Right," he said. "Yes, ma'am."

Miranda took her cup of tea and turned to make her way back up to the CIC.

She wasn't particularly skilled at humor, she reminded herself. Hell, she wasn't all that good with people, period.

Diana Allers took a sip from her coffee cup and nodded, gesturing across the Mess toward the kitchen. "Look sharp, Specialist," she said, giving a wry grin. "Officer on deck."

The correspondent's appearance was a far cry from the day Shepard had first met her outside of Bay D24 on the Citadel. Gone was the tight miniskirt, revealing, trim-fitting top and designer heels. In their place was a pair of snug-fitting beige utility pants, a technical blouse, and rugged boots. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore only a minimal amount of makeup. She looked ready to deploy into a combat zone at a moment's notice.

Samantha Traynor craned her neck around to see where Allers was indicating, spotted Miranda Lawson fixing a cup of tea, and immediately turned back around in her chair. "I would recommend caution around Miss Lawson," she said. "There are all sorts of logs buried in the Normandy's archives about her time as XO back when this was a Cerberus ship."

"Trained assassin? Biotic powers that could rip my limbs off like a rag doll? I'm a pretty self-confident woman, happy to stroll into a war zone to get a story, but I'm not stupid. Doesn't matter how amazing Shepard's ass is, I don't have a death wish."

Traynor blushed. "I understand there's a problem with her biotics."

"Even still, that woman looks like she could break my arms with a dirty look."

Traynor laughed. "You may be right. The Captain certainly trusts her though. I wasn't the only one taken aback by his decision to name someone non-Alliance as Executive Officer, even if it is only temporary."

"Oh, he more than trusts her, Specialist," Allers said, giving a wicked smile. "It's a bit of a scandal. Your people are in a bubble right now, without access to all the uncensored extranet content. The rumor that Shepard had a romance brewing with a certain Cerberus operative while he worked with the Illusive Man is just starting to get some traction in the tabloid circuits." She waved a hand. "But that's not my thing. I'm not one of those slimy Paparazzi hacks. Besides, can you blame the guy? I mean, look at her. She's wearing a standard issue Alliance uniform and just look how this lot is going all googly eyes." She gestured toward the other Navy men sitting in the Mess. To a man, they were casting furtive looks toward the kitchen, ogling the XO. "If these guys were forced to stand up suddenly, they'd be risking permanent injury."

Traynor laughed again. "Well, she's definitely a bit of ball-breaker. Not to mention a stickler for rules. But, also, quite lovely." She smiled and stole another glance at Lawson as she walked by, heading for the elevator.

"So how's it going up there at the helm? Anything juicy you can tell me? You know, non-classified tactical assessments and such."

"Nothing you don't already have access to, really. Now that we're within the salarian frontier, comms are really quiet. There's no Reaper activity at all nearby and the Alliance fleet assets in the region are all radio silent. However, I did just find out that Miss Lawson's sister is going to be helping out with Comm Ops."

"No kidding? Well, I suppose everyone's got to do their part. Especially on this ship. I'm still a little shocked at how much elbow room we have on board. I'm used to squeezing into much tighter quarters and with a lot more sailors when I've been embedded on warships in the past."

"It's definitely a roomier design than most Alliance Navy ships, but we're still only operating at sixty percent of our normal crew levels," Traynor said. "The Captain says we'll be picking up more help along the way, but I'm not sure if he means more Alliance people or others like the Lawson's, Doctor T'Soni and Major Vakarian."

"Don't discount the value of the freelancers Shepard tends to attract," Allers said. "From what I understand, they're a collection of some of the toughest bad asses the galaxy has to offer. And after these first few weeks of the war, we're going to need all the muscle we can get, regardless of whether or not they wear a uniform."

"It's bad, isn't it?" Traynor said. "I mean, I'm obviously aware of fleet activities and have some insight into enemy movements, but you have a broader picture of things. You have contacts all over the galaxy, right?"

"I do," Allers said, taking another sip of her coffee. "And if you're asking if I think we're fucked, then yes, I'm afraid we are. You know how hard our people got hit, but it's even worse than just the military losses. With the parliament gone and Earth occupied, the Alliance is hanging on by a thread. There's blood in the water and the Illusive Man isn't the only shark circling the wreck. There are other forces in play, behind the scenes, looking to take advantage of the chaos and exert their will over our fragile little intergalactic democracy."

"Can it really all fall apart so quickly, our whole system of government? Our way of life? Are we going to end up like the quarians?"

Allers shrugged. "We're looking at an extinction level event here, Specialist," she said. "If we don't get some kind of victory soon, things will unravel really fast."

"But the prospects of working with the turians, that's promising, right? You were on Palaven while the Captain was extracting the Primarch. I know it looked bad from orbit, but what did you see?"

Allers shook her head. "It wasn't much of a battle where I reported from. More like a culling. The Reapers were just mowing down the resistance, moving along like they were out for an afternoon of gardening, spraying down the weeds and cutting the hedges." She leaned a little forward across the table. "Don't get me wrong. Teaming up with the turians is a good thing. But we're going to need a helluva lot more than the birds if we stand any chance of kicking those monsters off Earth. Otherwise, we're all going to have to get used to calling ships like the Normandy home."

"I have the turian and krogan ships on our scopes, Captain," Ensign Riley reported. "They're stationary and waiting near the designated coordinates, approximately five thousand klicks away from each other."

"Any sign of the salarians?" Shepard asked.

"No, sir. We have some commercial and mining traffic on long range scanners, but no sign of the Salarian Union diplomatic vessels."

"Very well. Traynor, send our authentication package to the turians and krogan." Shepard tapped the intercom. "Joker, move us into position. Nice and easy."

"Aye, Captain."

"Typical," Primarch Victus said. The turian had emerged from the War Room several minutes ago, anticipating their arrival at the summit coordinates, and was standing nearby the Captain. "We're less than three AU from their homeworld and yet the salarians still feel the need to make us wait for their grand arrival."

Shepard smirked. "They do tend to lean toward the melodramatic when it comes to this sort of thing."

"They're also just as likely to back out of this arrangement at the last second," Miranda said. She was standing at Shepard's side, her arms crossed in front of her. "Or, perhaps they're here but intentionally remaining hidden. The salarians possess extremely effective stealth and cloaking technologies. We could initiate active scans of the surrounding quadrant to be sure."

"We're on their turf and playing by their rules. That was the price for salarian participation in these talks. We'll just have to wait. For now."

And so they waited.

Shepard remained in the CIC along with Miranda, Garrus and Victus, pacing but careful to maintain a calm exterior. Inside, however, his patience was wearing thin. This sort of political posturing was frustrating in the best of times. But now, while the Reapers were busy devastating Earth and Palaven, it was almost intolerable. Still, he had little choice in the matter. They needed a strong alliance if they were to have any chance of slowing the enemy's advance. And though the salarians lacked the raw strength of the turians and krogan, their advanced technology could still prove vital to any future counter-offensive. And after the asari had flatly refused to participate, he was even more willing to allow the salarians their eccentricities.

He was still perplexed by the news Tevos delivered. While neither Thessia nor any of their other major colonies had been threatened yet, the asari were far too intelligent not to recognize that it was only a matter of time before the Reapers arrived in their territories. She had claimed that the inclusion of the krogan meant the talks were doomed to fail, but Shepard got the impression that even if Wrex and his people weren't included, the asari would still have remained on the sidelines. They knew something the others didn't, he was sure of it. What were they hiding?

Ninety-seven minutes later, a quartet of salarian starships appeared on the Normandy's sensors, moving methodically toward the summit coordinates. A heavy cruiser led the procession, the Salarian Union diplomatic vessel following a short distance behind the big warship, while two frigates flew in formation along either side.

"The salarians are hailing us, sir," Traynor said. "They're relaying updated instructions, advising that the talks will now be held on board their diplomatic envoy's vessel."

"Trying to change the terms of the agreement before the conference has even begun?" Miranda said, raising an eyebrow. "Why am I not surprised?"

Garrus grunted. "That's not going to fly with the krogan."

Victus glanced at Shepard. "Captain, may I?" he said, gesturing toward the Comm terminal.

Shepard nodded. "Be my guest, General."

The Primarch approached Traynor, keying his Omni-tool. "Specialist, relay this authentication code to the salarians. Then tell them that there will not be a change in venue. We will conduct the summit on board the Normandy, as previously agreed upon. If they refuse, advise them that I will be forced to withdraw the turian warships stationed near Nasurn and Mannovai, removing the protections their colony worlds enjoy in order to reinforce the Trebia frontier."

Traynor made the necessary transmissions and waited for the response. Less than a minute later, she turned to the Primarch and Shepard, a wry smile playing across her lips. "The salarians say their delegation will be departing for the Normandy within ten minutes. They're requesting docking instructions."

"Pays to be needed," Shepard said, glancing at Victus. "Go ahead and transmit the prearranged instructions, Traynor. Let's get the salarians on board first, though. Once the krogan are here, they're liable to get cold feet again."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

He turned to Miranda. "XO, please greet the salarian delegation at the airlock and escort them back to the conference room."

She offered the hint of a smile and nodded. She then turned on her heel and walked off toward the bridge, a datapad held tightly under one arm.

"Primarch, you're welcome to get setup with your staff in the conference room. Garrus and I will meet the krogan in the Shuttle Bay and be up with Wrex shortly."

When Shepard, Wrex, and Garrus arrived in the conference room, they found Victus and the salarian representatives and their respective aides already present. Miranda and Liara were also there, standing together and a little off to the side.

"Captain Shepard, allow me to introduce Dalatrass Linron," Miranda said as he and the others entered the conference room, "supreme leader of the Salarian Union."

Shepard bowed slightly and made the necessary hand gesture, just as Miranda had coached him. "Dalatrass, welcome aboard the Normandy," he said. "And thank you for attending this vitally important summit."

"Captain Shepard," Linron said, inclining her head slightly. "I see that your reputation for keeping eclectic company is well founded." She eyed Wrex contemptuously. "Councilor Valern and I discussed your unconventional methods at length ahead of this meeting."

"Excellent," Shepard said, unfazed. "Then you know I'm not someone that likes to waste anyone's valuable time. Let's get started."

Linron smirked and then glanced at Liara. "It was my understanding that the asari were not taking part in these negotiations. Why is she here?"

Liara smiled benignly, ignoring the salarian's rudeness. "My name is Doctor Liara T'Soni," she said. "And I do not officially represent the Asari Republics. I am here as a neutral party, independent and ready to assist and advise."

"Advise whom exactly?" Linron said.

"Anyone who would like to take advantage of my wise council, Dalatrass."

Linron made a dismissive noise. "How very interesting," she said.

Shepard cleared his throat. "Dalatrass Linron, Primarch Victus, this is Urdnot Wrex," he said, gesturing toward the massive krogan beside him. "He speaks for a broad confederation of Tuchanka-based clans that have sworn their allegiance and recognized him as the legitimate leader of their united territories."

Victus nodded toward Wrex. The dalatrass remained still, making little effort to conceal her disdain for the krogan. "I see little reason to take this krogan's supposed influence seriously," she said. "There is no such thing as a centralized government on Tuchanka."

Wrex placed his enormous claw-like hands on the edge of the table, across from the dalatrass, and leaned forward aggressively. "Just because there wasn't an election doesn't mean I don't hold sway over Tuchanka. All the clans that matter bent the knee once they learned how unhealthy it was to stand against me."

The dalatrass stared back at him, sneering.

"I can vouch for his authority," Victus said. "The Hierarchy has been monitoring the situation on Tuchanka and recognizes Wrex's status as nominal krogan leader."

"Well, isn't that nice," Wrex said. "It's comforting to know the turians think I'm legitimate. And that you've been keeping tabs on my world."

"Alright," Shepard said. "Let's move on. Every minute we waste here is another minute for the Reapers to advance further into the galaxy. We need to develop a unified defense and support strategy between our civilizations. Let's make it happen."

More than an hour later, the four species were still haggling back and forth, trying to find some semblance of common ground and laboring to develop a way to stem the tide of the Reapers' advance. Shepard had grown impatient with the tedious process after the first ten minutes and was struggling to contain his irritation. He felt completely out of his element, cooped up in the boardroom that seemed to be growing more claustrophobic by the second.

Across the room, Miranda appeared almost serene, observing the proceedings and taking frequent notes on her datapad. She would meet his gaze from time to time, offering an encouraging nod or discreet little smile. Soon, Shepard felt it was the only thing keeping him sane.

"I can put fifteen thousand warriors in the field within five days, ready to deploy to wherever they can kill the most Reapers," Wrex said.

Victus sighed. "I need at least twenty times that number on Palaven, Wrex."

"It's the single largest unified force of krogan the galaxy has seen in more than seven hundred years," Wrex said. "Besides, every one of my guys counts for ten of yours. I can't leave Tuchanka totally defenseless, Victus. Reaper scouts are already arriving, assessing the state of my planet. I can't sacrifice the bulk of my soldiers to save the turians. Not without significant compensation."

"Trying to draw out negotiations will get you nowhere, Wrex," Victus said. "I have no patience for it. Just tell us what you want."

"I'll tell you what I need," Wrex said and paused dramatically. "A cure for the genophage."

His words hung in the air for a moment while everyone looked at each other, stunned into silence.

"Absolutely not," Linron finally said, shaking herself. "The genophage is non-negotiable."

"You're awfully strident in that opinion, Dalatrass," Shepard said. "Why are you dismissing the concept without hearing him out? We're all here to cooperate on a solution to fight the Reapers. Everyone has a need."

"Because my people uplifted the krogan. We know them best, Captain. We know what they're capable of, the devastation they can cause. The genophage is the only means of keeping their kind in check."

"You mean you used my people to fight a war you couldn't win," Wrex said, his volume rising. "That's why you so generously uplifted us. It wasn't the salarians or the asari of even the turians that stopped the rachni! It was krogan blood that turned the tide! And now you need us again. This is what it's going to cost you."

"Then the price is too high," she said. "Your people cannot be trusted. The krogan were a blight upon the galaxy before the genophage and you would just as surely be our downfall again if we were to allow you to breed uncontrollably. You're incapable of managing your own species. The genophage saved your kind as much as it shielded the rest of us from your aggression."

Wrex looked like he might swallow the salarian whole at any moment. Her assistants recoiled, but the dalatrass refused to wilt under his glare.

"Dalatrass, Wrex is right," Victus said. "We need the krogan. Insulting his species won't change that."

"I won't apologize for speaking the truth. We uplifted the krogan to do one thing: Wage war. It's all they know because it's all we wanted them to know. I will not allow them to be set loose on the galaxy again."

"This isn't just up to you, Dalatrass," Shepard said. "The krogan are a sentient species with the same rights as any of us. You can't unilaterally decide to perpetuate this repression. You think you made a mistake uplifting them? Fine. That doesn't change the fact that we're a long way from that moment now."

"That's precisely my point, Captain. We did make a mistake. We turned to the krogan in desperation. It's the same blunder you're suggesting we entertain today. I warn you, Captain, that path leads to death and suffering."

"You're judging an entire species for what occurred a helluva long time ago."

"One thousand, four hundred, and seventy-six years, if you're keeping track," Wrex said.

"It was a thousand years of peace, free from these… brutes."

"Enough!" Victus said. "Whether or not they deserve a cure is academic. It would take years to formulate one."

Wrex drew himself up to his full height and glanced around the room. "I have information that suggests otherwise," he said. He then moved to the end of the table, extracted a small data stick from his pocket, and inserted it into the media slot. A moment later, several holographic windows opened above the center of the table. He made several quick hand gestures and brought one of the feeds to the forefront, enlarging the image. It was vid footage from a ruined lab facility, a stream of data, and images of several deceased krogan test subjects. "A salarian scientist by the name of Maelon Heplorn came to Tuchanka early last year, working on a cure for the genophage."

Miranda stepped closer to the table, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at the holo images. "We were there, Wrex," she said. "Shepard's team put an end to Maelon's ghastly work but not before we observed the results. He failed to produce a viable counteragent or treatment for the genophage and killed all of his test subjects in the process."

"Not all of them, Lawson," he said and made another quick hand gesture, switching to an entirely different set of images. It was another lab facility, but much more polished and advanced than the facility on Tuchanka, and clearly salarian in nature. The camera's perspective zoomed in on several transparent-walled holding cells. The profiles of several krogan females held within were unmistakable. "A handful of the females survived Maelon's treatments and successfully developed a resistance to the genophage. They're immune. But the dalatrass here found them before we knew they even existed. An STG team was sent in to clean up the mess and took my people hostage, transporting them off-world."

"Where did you get this?" Linron said. "This could be some sort of fabrication, meant to stir up sympathy for your absurd cause."

"The intel is authentic," Wrex said firmly and pointed at the paused image floating above the table. "Those are my people. They're immune to the genophage and you're going to return them! There will be no krogan support for any of you unless my people are returned with that cure."

The dalatrass said nothing.

"Wait," Miranda said, entering commands into another console integrated within the conference table, studying the data accompanying the images. Liara and Shepard were at her side, peering over her shoulder. "There's nothing here that definitively suggests these females are immune to anything. It could simply mean they were more resilient to the experiments and therapies Maelon was subjecting them to. We shouldn't jump to conclusions without more data."

"That's Irrelevant," Victus said, waving a hand dismissively before rounding on the dalatrass. "You illegally extracted krogan citizens from their homeworld. That's a violation of more Council treaties than I can easily count. You're going to release them. Authorize it immediately."

"Mind your tongue, turian. I don't take orders from the Hierarchy. You'd be wise to remember what part of the galaxy you're currently standing in."

"And I'll remind you, salarian, of the extensive turian military support your frontier worlds enjoy. Those fleets serve at my pleasure and can easily be redeployed to other regions of need."

"You wouldn't dare. Those agreements have been in place for decades. You can't possibly be willing to renege on those commitments for the sake of the krogan. You'd be jeopardizing all the aid your people receive from the Salarian Union."

"It's a time of war, Dalatrass. Any benefit the krogan enjoy as a result of my actions would be a byproduct. We're all invested in this. But if you insist on driving a wedge through these talks and standing in the way of Palaven and Earth receiving the support they require, I will have no choice but to withdraw military assets from foreign regions in order to reinforce my home system. Yes, certain salarian resources are valuable to the Hierarchy, but they would have little value if my world is annihilated. And since you seem unclear on just what it is your people would be facing—alone—allow me to spell it out for you. If a Reaper force even a tenth of the size of the one currently laying siege to my home system happens upon your little garden world, you wouldn't last a day!"

"Alright, let's all just take a step back from the brink," Shepard said and turned to face Linron. "I'm more than happy to have my people validate Wrex's evidence, Dalatrass. But I'm confident it's authentic. And assuming it is that's more than enough to compel you to release the krogan females. I know you don't want this to turn into a bigger incident than it already is. You're well aware of my status as a Council Spectre. I have the authority to investigate this as an interspecies crime and am sanctioned to take whatever action I deem necessary."

"Not within my home system you don't, Captain," Linron said. "Even a Council Spectre has jurisdictional limits. You're out of your depth."

"I'm not a real firm believer in rules and regulations, Dalatrass," Shepard said coolly. He then paused for a moment, taking a breath before softening his expression. "Dalatrass, you're far too intelligent to believe you can stand against the Reapers on your own. The Primarch isn't exaggerating. This enemy can't be deterred by the kind of strategies your people are comfortable employing. You know this. You're very presence at this summit illustrates that clearly enough. You could have abstained, just like the asari chose to do. But you didn't. You understand that facing the Reapers is beyond the capabilities of any of our individual militaries. We have to stand united because isolation is the fastest path to destruction.

"I understand you hesitancy. And I can appreciate that I don't necessarily have the same perspective on the krogan that your people do." He gestured to the holo imagery projected above the table. "But the truth is already out. You can't gain anything further by continuing to hold these females against their will. Releasing them into my charge is the right thing to do. And it's a step toward saving your culture."

Dalatrass Linron said nothing, her gaze locked on Shepard's.

"Listen to the human," Wrex said smoothly. His tone had grown so measured that everyone else in the room appeared startled and turned to look at the massive krogan warlord. "He's talking sense. We can put all this behind us and help each other move forward."

Shepard gave his old krogan companion an incredulous look and raised an eyebrow. Wrex caught his gaze and shrugged.

Linron was staring at Wrex now too, looking frozen in place. "How will curing the genophage benefit my people?" she finally said, sounding defeated.

"You'll gain krogan warriors to defend your homes," Wrex said. "I can allocate a sizable force of the meanest, ground-pounding fighters I have, put them under your military's command to deploy wherever you see fit."

The Dalatrass looked horrified at the idea.

"Don't dismiss the offer, Dalatrass," Shepard said. "We're talking about significant assets here and no small sacrifice on Wrex's part. Deploying a sizable number of troops to help us now weakens his own homeworld's defense. It will also draw more Reaper attention to Tuchanka. They'll see them as a major player in the war and look to take steps to neutralize the threat. He's offering to take a major risk in an attempt to show good faith and earn the right to end the genophage."

"The Captain is being kind, Dalatrass," Victus said. "Allow me to put it more bluntly. Your soldiers are nearly useless on the front lines. When war comes to Sur'Kesh, you'll be thankful for the krogan that lead the charge against the invaders."

Liara cleared her throat and walked closer to the table. "Perhaps this is where I can offer some value. I happen to have access to a significant number of commercial freighters that could be used to transport Wrex's soldiers to areas of need, freeing up your own naval vessels. I'd be happy to assist with the logistical challenges."

Linron looked suddenly frail, her gaze settling on the leaked vid footage of the krogan females. "Very well," she said. "I will authorize the release of the krogan test subjects. They're being held at an STG facility on Sur'Kesh. But it will take some time to work through the process and arrange their transport to this location."

"Not good enough," Wrex said. "We're going to get them. Now."

The Dalatrass scowled at him, ready to pounce. But then Shepard stepped between them.

"You can expedite their release, Dalatrass," he said firmly. "Allow my ship to retrieve them from Sur'Kesh. We're less than three hours away."

She stared back at him for several moments before speaking again. "Very well. But only your ship, Captain. I will not allow this krogan to set foot on my homeworld."

"Not acceptable," Wrex said, reverting to a more menacing tone.

"Wrex," Shepard said sharply and then looked back at the salarian. "They're his citizens, Dalatrass. He has the right to oversee the transfer. So this is how this is going to go down. Wrex comes along on the Normandy and accompanies me to the surface, ensuring that the krogan females know we can be trusted. Doctor T'Soni and Major Vakarian will also come, acting as observers for the other Council races. We'll be in and out in no time at all."

"This proposal is acceptable to the Turian Hierarchy," Victus said, crossing his arms and staring across the table at Linron.

Linron glanced between him and Shepard, fuming, before finally surrendering. "Fine. But I take no responsibility for the devastation you are inviting upon the galaxy. Curing the genophage is folly, Captain Shepard. And when the krogan remind us all exactly why we had to take such drastic steps, the responsibility will lay squarely with you." She cast one last disdainful look at Wrex and then motioned for her assistants. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my ship and make the necessary arrangements." The salarian delegation then swept out of the conference room without another word.

Shepard tapped the intercom. "Traynor, the salarians are heading back to their ship. Please see to it that they don't get lost."

"Aye, sir," Traynor said.

"Captain, I'll be returning to your War Room and leave this business with the krogan females in your hands," Victus said. "I'm also going to have my diplomatic corps dispatched to continue advanced negotiations. I expect the salarians will do the same and that we won't be seeing the dalatrass again anytime soon." He turned to Wrex. "I'll support you on this all the way, Wrex, but I need something in return from you. Will you authorize a portion of your soldiers for immediate deployment to Trebia?"

Wrex nodded slowly. "You'll have them, Victus. I keep my word."

The Primarch gave a slight tip of his head and left the room, his own aides following in his wake.

"I'll get ready to accompany you to Sur'Kesh," Liara said and took her leave.

Shepard put his hands on the table, shaking his head. "You could have clued me in on your little bombshell ahead of the meeting, Wrex. That could have gone very, very badly."

Wrex shrugged. "What, and ruin my dramatic moment?" he said, letting out a long, slow laugh. "Come on, Shepard. We've got them right where we want them." He leaned in closer to him. "And I want you to know, I'm not promising all my troops to the turians and the salarians. I've got twelve thousand of my meanest death-dealers reserved just for you and ready to deploy to Sol. But you need to help me make this cure happen. Remember, after Virmire, you owe me."

Shepard glanced up at the big krogan. It was always the same with Wrex, never knowing exactly how far he trust could him. He considered him a friend, having stood side by side with him against the geth and Saren, but it was different than the relationship he had with Garrus or Tali. The friendship he shared with them was more unconditional, warmer.

Wrex was loyal, to a point, but pragmatic. If push came to shove and the best interests of the krogan were weighed against the greater good, Shepard knew there'd be conflict. He exhaled. "Garrus, why don't you show Wrex the War Room, get him set up on the networks so he can begin organizing troops. I'll come find you in a few minutes."

After the conference room emptied out, Miranda approached Shepard. She had been standing a discreet distance away while he was speaking with Wrex, but within earshot. "Cerberus had extensive intel on that Virmire facility, John," she said. "There's no evidence that Saren had developed a true cure for the genophage. It's far more likely it was simply a highly advanced cloning process. The krogan soldiers you faced there were little more than mindless drones. You didn't rob the krogan of their future. You don't owe Wrex anything."

"It doesn't matter, Miranda," he said. "Not really. I meant what I said about the krogan. They deserve a chance as much as the rest of us."

"You know this krogan," Miranda said. "I don't. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't have reservations about this course of action. I realize it seems cruel, but have you considered that the dalatrass might be right?"

"Miranda, we need them. If I put aside the moralities of the issue and look at it from purely a logical point of view, it adds up to the same thing. We stand a much better chance of fighting the Reapers with krogan warriors at our side than without. I can't get bogged down in what might occur in the future. I can only deal with this next step."

She frowned. "You know it's not that easy for me, Shepard. I'm always thinking twelve steps ahead. And I fully understand the perilous situation we're in, but there's simply no way to predict what impact curing the genophage will have on the galaxy, assuming we survive long enough to see that future. We could very well be kicking the can down the road, exchanging one mortal danger for another. Wrex is a strong leader who seems capable of keeping his people in check, but what happens after he's gone? Who's to say that a more imperialist-minded leader follows him, or even overthrows him? They were a species artificially tampered with by a salarian people so arrogant that they felt they were entitled to play god. Perhaps the genophage is more merciful than we understand."

He smiled and put his hands on her arms. "This is why I love you," he said. "Well, one of many reasons. You challenge me at every turn, see things from every angle. But we don't have a choice, Miranda. We need to do this. Maybe someday I'll be judged a villain for enabling a resurgent krogan empire to spread across the galaxy. But I don't have the luxury of dealing with hypotheticals right now. I need to find ways to kill Reapers. There's nothing else that trumps that."

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. She knew he was right, of course. But that fact didn't necessarily assuage the apprehension she was feeling.

Then Traynor's voice came through the intercom speakers. "Captain, I have an inbound priority connection to the QEC for you."

"Admiral Hackett?"

"No, sir. That transmission is originating from the London-based node pair. It's Admiral Anderson."

Miranda gave a sharp intake of breath and looked up at Shepard. "I'll go and attend to the details of the operation and get us underway," she said, offering a comforting smile.

"Thank you," he said. "Traynor, I'm heading to the Comm Room now. Patch it through."

"A cure for the genophage?" Anderson looked incredulous. "Can you actually deliver that?" The Admiral's holographic representation was standing before Shepard in the Normandy's Comm Room, projected through the QEC interface. The older man was clad in a combination of standard Marine fatigues and light battle armor. His clothes were dirty and worn, but he looked unharmed.

"Maybe," Shepard said. "We should find out soon enough, once we extract the krogan females from Sur'Kesh. The salarians aren't too keen on the idea. Obviously."

"I'll bet," Anderson said. "But I can appreciate the salarian perspective. A massive krogan population isn't something to sneeze at. But they're not experiencing what we're dealing with on Earth. Even still, there are those in the Alliance that would hesitate on this. Udina comes to mind. He understands the danger rapid krogan expansion can represent."

"Are you suggesting I pump the breaks on this, Admiral?" Shepard asked.

"Not at all. We don't have time to debate the wider implications of unshackling the krogan. Humanity will be judged harshly for enabling a cure, but I could give a damn. I'm trying to save lives right here, right now. Whatever it takes to relieve some of the pressure on Earth, I'm all for it. You're in a position to run with this, Shepard. I trust your judgement. It's why I put you on that ship. Do what needs to be done."

Shepard exhaled. "Yes, sir," he said. "How did you manage to reach London anyway?"

Anderson gave a soft laugh. "By way of some seriously low-tech transport overland to the east coast. It took more than ten days, using a collection of ancient trucks and all-terrain vehicles. There was even a two hundred klick stretch when we were on horseback. We made our way down to Norfolk and spent another three days getting an old ocean-going Poseidon class sub operational. The thing was a relic, but they built them right back then." He shrugged. "It got us across the Atlantic just fine. The Reapers don't seem to pay much attention to us when we're operating antiques. Guess they know we're not a threat to them in seventy-five year old technology."

Shepard smiled and shook his head. "Sounds like a helluva road trip, Admiral," he said. "What's the situation on the ground? Are you having any success against the Reapers?"

"Minimal," he said. "When the odds are even, we're more than capable standing toe-to-toe with their ground forces. But a fair fight is a rare occurrence these days. They've got complete control of the skies. If we engage them out in the open for too long, we end up attracting a lot of attention. Their air support is fast and deadly and a simple orbital strike is always a threat.

"For all intents and purposes, we stopped being a defending army after the first day of the invasion. We're the resistance now, adopting purely guerrilla-style tactics and keeping as low a profile as possible. Every standing national military across the globe is being forced to do the same. The big, organized armies and installations were easy targets for the Reapers. Traditional supply lines have been shattered and most of the above-ground infrastructure is simply gone."

Shepard grimaced. "It sounds pretty bleak."

"It's a disaster, no way around that," Anderson said. "We've lost at least half a billion people so far. But no one really knows for sure. It's a massive invasion force, but Earth's a big planet. More than half of the largest cities around the globe are still untouched. The Reapers focused on the metro areas with nearby military installations and industrial infrastructure first. They'll get to the rest soon enough, but we've had some time to get people underground and dispersed as much as possible.

"And we've been able to gather intel. Our satellites in orbit are long gone, but we still have a small fleet of stealth surveillance drones operating in the stratosphere. We've seen most of the Reaper capital ships have been pulled off the surface, apparently withdrawn back up to space, leaving the smaller destroyers to make up the bulk of their heavy firepower on the ground. Our scientists theorize that those gigantic ships can only remain on an Earth-type planet for so long before the strain of maintaining their hull and barrier integrity within an atmosphere becomes too great." He gave a joyless laugh. "Not that they were much more vulnerable down here than they were in orbit."

"So I take it you haven't had any luck in finding a vulnerability."

Anderson shook his head. "When the fleets were still in the fight, engaging the enemy in space, we had some limited success. Mainly our biggest ships equipped with the Thanix weapons systems. But it's not even close on the surface. India, Russia, and the U.S. all tried limited nuclear strikes after day one, but any guided munition fired at a Reaper goes haywire and veers off course, detonating too far away from the target. Their jamming capabilities are well beyond us and there just aren't any kinetic kill-based weapons that we can safely discharge within the atmosphere capable of penetrating their barriers.

"So, we're focusing on more manageable targets for now. The Reapers have begun to setup dozens of concentration camps, spread out on every continent. They're using husks and indoctrinated humans to construct and operate the places, herding civilians into the sites. They're methodical about it, careful to sweep through the metro and suburban areas and seize anybody left standing. We're trying to disrupt that process, adopting hit-and-run tactics to slow their progress and even raiding some of the smaller camps to free people when we can."

His expression darkened. "In recent days, the Reapers have begun to bring down a new variant of spacecraft from orbit, something we haven't seen before. They're landing them near these detainment camps. We think they're processing ships of some kind. People go in, but they don't come out."

Shepard felt his stomach turn, his mind returning him to the depths of the Collector's base. He'd seen what they'd done to the captives there, humans liquefied into some form of raw, genetic paste. He could still hear their screams. To imagine that same process taking place on Earth, but on a vastly larger scale, was almost too much to take.

"I should be there with you, Admiral," Shepard said. "I belong there."

Anderson waved his hand. "The hell you do," he said. "Listen, Shepard. I know you're frustrated. I know you want to be in this fight. But believe me, you're able to get a lot more done out there than whatever you think you could manage back here on Earth. I need you to keep pushing forward, pulling the other races together and building a coalition. Trust your gut. It's gotten you this far, it'll lead you back home. And I have no doubt in my mind that when you get here you'll be bringing a whole helluva lot of friends with you."

Shepard blew out a long breath. "Count on it, sir."

"Good," he said. "Now, I've got to check in with Admiral Hackett and the rest of the strategic command staff. We can only keep the QEC rig powered up for so long without risking detection. Godspeed, Shepard."

Part of Shepard wanted to lash out at Anderson again for hiding the truth about Miranda from him. He was still angry, still frustrated by his mentor's decision to hold so much back from him. But after hearing about the state of Earth and understanding how he and the others were only barely hanging on by a thread, his personal grudge felt massively trivial. "Same to you, Admiral. Normandy out."

"Ma'am, Lieutenant Cortez reports they've touched down at the STG base," Traynor said. "Captain Shepard and his team have disembarked and are making their way into the facility."

Miranda glanced at the specialist and gave a nod. "Very well," she said. She was standing near the primary tactical station within the CIC, just forward of the galaxy map, looking up at the array of holo-windows projected above the central command table. Shepard, along with Garrus, Liara, and Wrex had left the Normandy a short while ago, bound for the highly secured STG compound, located in a remote, mountainous region of one of Sur'Kesh's southern continents. "I want that channel kept open at all times and regular check-ins with the away team at ten minute intervals."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

The Normandy was in high orbit over Sur'Kesh. A salarian heavy cruiser and small tactical carrier were floating nearby, shadowing them and offering a clear reminder of their tenuous status within the salarian home system.

Behind her, Miranda heard her sister make an inquisitive noise. Oriana was sitting at one of auxiliary consoles along the bulkhead, not far from Specialist Traynor's post. They were easing her into her new duties, giving her a chance to become familiar with the ship's systems while shadowing some of the regular Navy personnel posted to the CIC.

Miranda walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "What is, Oriana?"

Oriana frowned. "Probably nothing, but…"

"But what? Tell me what you're hearing."

"Well, ever since we arrived in orbit, I've been monitoring all the civilian communication activity from the planet, just scanning frequencies and linking into their local nets. You know, just the mundane stuff that Samantha doesn't have time to worry about with the op underway. So, I was just starting to sift through some of the salarian social media channels, curious to see what life was like on Sur'Kesh, when the whole system went down."

"Okay," Miranda said. "So, they're experiencing an outage of some kind. What's tickling your intuition?" She knew better than to dismiss Oriana's instincts. The girl had proven adept at detecting all manner of patterns buried beneath the surface, things that might appear to be ordinary in nature but that often held hidden meaning and significance.

"Well, for one, when I say the system went down, I mean the whole system. Everything went offline at the exact same moment—their online community books, microblogs, extranet civilian access. You name it, it's offline. And, as far as I can tell, this hasn't happened for… Well, it's never happened. The salarians are a naturally chatty bunch and they use these systems universally. I mean, everyone is online, sharing info on their bloodlines, negotiating fertilization agreements, trading tech tips, gossiping about different academic and business leaders. They're like a society of teenage girls." She looked up at Miranda and gave a wry grin. "I mean, these guys really like to talk. They absolutely can't live without these social nets so there's redundancy after redundancy built into the systems to make sure they have constant uptime.

"So, as soon as it all blinked out, I ran a remote diagnostic on the integrity of the data centers and power grids that host the networks. It all looks fine. There are no signs of a massive system issue that could cause an outage of this scale. Everything checks out. It's like someone just pulled the plug at the same exact time at all these different hubs."

Miranda was nodding. "Alright, that is odd. What else do you have?"

"This," Oriana said, punching in a few commands on her terminal. "Right before the networks went down, these were the most popular keywords trending. And by most popular, I mean by far. It wasn't even close." She swiped her hand through the holo field and brought up a new window, displaying a list of text.

Miranda leaned in and narrowed her eyes. At the top of the list, translated automatically by EDI's software, where several words: Revolution, uprising, and Narra. She straightened her posture and turned to look behind her. "Traynor, anything unusual on the military networks?"

"No, ma'am," Traynor said, glancing up from her console. But then there was a rapid series of tones from her terminal, recapturing her attention. "Oh, wait. Just a moment." She studied her screen for another few seconds. "An encrypted flash report was just broadcast throughout the Salarian Navy command nodes."

"Try to decrypt it," Miranda said.

"Aye, ma'am."

"So, what's a Narra?" Oriana asked.

"Not what, who," Miranda said. "Narra is the name of a highly influential salarian bloodline. Linron only just barely retained control of the Union in the last election. Dalatrass Narra was her strongest rival. She's also a hardliner and committed isolationist." She walked over to the Comm Ops station. "What do you have, Traynor?"

"It's a deployment order of some kind, transmitted to specific warships within the system," Traynor said, furrowing her brow. "But it's odd. This is not any sort of encryption pattern the salarian military uses. It's proprietary and corporate-developed."

"Contact STG Command. I want to know precisely what's happing on that planet."

"Miranda!" Oriana called out. "Civilian nets and media just came back online. But every channel is broadcasting the same thing. It's an automated emergency warning, telling people to remain in their homes and places of work."

EDI's holo-avatar bloomed to life next to Miranda an instant later. "Miss Lawson, I have just defeated an attempt to infiltrate the Normandy's internal networks and tactical suite. I've traced the source to the salarian heavy cruiser off our port side."

Miranda tapped the intercom on the nearby console. "Bridge, CIC. Moreau, stand by to take us out of orbit. I want to be on the move in less than two minutes."

"Copy that, Miranda," Joker said.

Miranda looked back at Traynor. "Get Shepard on the line. We're pulling them out," she said. "And hail that cruiser. I want to know what the hell they're playing at."

"I am detecting a full thruster burn from the salarian cruiser, Miss Lawson," EDI said. "They're breaking orbit and maneuvering to a position directly ahead of us."

"They're not responding to our hails, ma'am," Traynor said. "And I can't establish a connection with the away team. There's a broad spectrum disruption signal blanketing the surface. I can't even ping our peoples' bio monitors and suit transponders. Everything's being jammed."

"Traynor, sound general quarters," Miranda said. "EDI, run us up to full combat power and maximize barrier and multicore shielding output."

Three quick bursts of the alert klaxon sounded within the CIC and the lights dimmed even lower than their typical, subdued mode. Crewmen that weren't already at their assigned stations dashed to their posts, automatically strapping themselves into their seats' combat harnesses, their hands flying across their terminals' haptic interfaces.

"Surface detonation detected, ma'am!" Ensign Riley called out from the Tactical station and then looked over at Miranda. "It was centered at the STG base."

Miranda tensed. "Nature of the explosion, Ensign?"

"Conventional, ma'am," he said. "Definitely non-nuclear, but powerful. Possibly a nanofuel-air device."

"EDI, bring that site up on the optics," Miranda said. The Normandy was positioned almost directly above the STG facility, hovering in high orbit. From the moment the captain's shuttle had left, they'd kept their ultra-sensitive suite of optical surveillance equipment trained on the location.

The imagery from the surface appeared in front of Miranda a moment later, projected across multiple holo windows above the center to the command table. An enormous column of rising smoke and debris was dominating the scene, obscuring a great deal of the view through the conventional telescopic sensors. Even still, there was enough of the ground visible to recognize a large section of the base had been reduced to a smoldering ruin. Hardened, two-meter thick walls were caved-in and pulverized all along the southern section of the facility and jagged metallic beams, half melted and glowing red-hot, were jutting out from the rubble at irregular angles. There were several heavy vehicles and multiple gunships toppled over on a nearby tarmac, destroyed and burning out of control.

Miranda swallowed. "Switch to hyperspectral imaging, EDI."

The CIC had gone silent, everyone's eyes drawn to the imagery from the surface. The camera continued to pan over the devastation. EDI applied an overlay over the vid image, calling out and tagging identified elements on the ground with brightly-colored icons. There were dozens of salarian bodies coming into view, labeled as 'confirmed fatality' by the AI's highly sensitive targeting software.

There were several gasps from the assembled crew when the Kodiak shuttle that had ferried the Normandy's captain and his team to the surface came into view.

"Magnify and adjust for visual noise, EDI," Miranda said.

The shuttle was lying on its side, smashed against the remains of a larger salarian shuttlecraft. One of its pylons and a maneuvering thruster had been sheared off. It was emitting thick, grayish smoke from one engine and the hull all along the side of the craft was crumpled and scorched.

Miranda felt her own heart hammering out a heavy beat in her chest. Shepard's fine, she told herself. They had learned that the krogan females were being held in a bunker deep below the surface. His team would have been there when the blast occurred. But what about Cortez? It didn't look good.

It took Miranda a moment to find her voice. "Can we pull a heat signature from within the shuttle, EDI? Any way to determine if we have survivors inside?"

"Negative, Miss Lawson. There is too much residual thermal and radioactive energy from the explosion and the jamming signal is still preventing access to the shuttle's internal sensors and data feeds."

"Ma'am, the salarian cruiser is hailing us," Traynor said.

Miranda glanced over at her and nodded. "Put it on screen, Specialist."

A new holo-window moved to the forefront above the command table. An image of a salarian male clad in black and red battle armor, standing amid a busy ship's bridge appeared. "Attention Alliance vessel, my name is Captain Tolan of the STG, commanding the warship, Zehltair. You are in violation of Salarian Union homeworld space. I order you to power down all propulsion systems and deactivate your defensive barriers. Your ship is to be impounded."

"That is preposterous," Miranda said icily. "We are here under the explicit authority of Dalatrass Linron, engaged in a sanctioned diplomatic recovery operation. Your attempts to breach our secure internal networks are an outrageous intrusion. Explain yourself."

"Linron is no longer in a position of authority," Tolan said, ignoring Miranda's demand. "Dalatrass Narra has ascended to her rightful place as the legitimate leader of the Salarian Union. Any agreement you had with the previous, illegal administration is no longer valid. I repeat, you are ordered to stand down and prepare to be boarded. Comply and your crew will not be harmed."

Miranda stared back at the salarian for another heartbeat before turning to Traynor and gesturing to kill the connection. The holo-image winked out a second later. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath.

Traynor was throwing Miranda a questioning look. "Wait, what exactly is happening, ma'am?"

"Isn't it obvious, Specialist? We've just walked into a civil war."

Author's note:

I hadn't original planned on leaving off with a cliffhanger, but continuing further with the chapter was going to make the whole sequence really unwieldy. The bulk of chapter 32 is already outlined and mocked-up, so it won't be long before I've got the next installment out.

Obviously, I'm altering the Sur'Kesh mission here. Gone is Cerberus and instead we've got a separatist group of salarians attempting to seize the government and derail the genophage cure. There's some obscure backstory that hints at the tenuous grip on leadership the Linron bloodline holds, so it seemed plausible for a coup attempt to rise from that. Plus, in-game, if Tolan replaces Kirrahe on Sur'Kesh, he's way more negative toward Shepard and outspoken against the pursuit of a cure. So, perhaps, there's a partnership of convenience taking shape there.

The other reason I went with a salarian-specific story here is because Cerberus is way too ever-present in canon ME3. I mean, they are literally everywhere. Honestly, it's to the point of absurdity how those guys are always just like, "Poof! Here we are, Shepard—Again!" They're still a major player in the story, but their appearances will be a bit more focused moving forward.

So, I'm getting that my inclusion of Allers in the story isn't the most popular element. And I totally get it. Her in-game character is pretty ridiculous and her model is appears visually odd. But, for the purposes of this fic, I have a very different image of her in mind.

Maybe I should have created an original character to fill that role, but I like to keep that sort of thing to a minimum and instead focus on revising or enhancing characters from the canon universe (an exception is someone like Adrianna Navarro, captain of the Jon Grissom, who we'll be seeing again soon). But I hope you'll allow me a bit of creative license with Allers and not allow Bioware's poor depiction of her to be too distracting.

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!