A/N: Finally got around to Grunt. Mordin and baka ninja girl are coming up soon...then Omega. Sweet lovely Omega.

Zaeed also shows up. As I have recently (by TKO) won the war of the Tupari Machines, his vengeance will come in the next chapter.

Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They deserve more credit than I do.

Shout-out to SLotH4 for his idea about Shepard's blood.

And while I'm thinking about it: Go review "Total Eclipse: An Asari Commando Novel" by RED78910, and "The Queen, the monster and the child" by metaladdict.


'My mother taught me three things. Never back down when you know you are right. Never let your strength lead you from using it to protect those without strength. And never bother with any thing but asari females in bed. She said the last was the most important of the rules...heh heh heh.'

-Urdnot Shepard Grunt, recollections as told by Loresingers to the younglings of the clan.


The meeting with Massani was quick, considering how much time had been wasted in getting to the system. His light cruiser - an older human model last used in the FCW and heavily modified - met the Normandy in an otherwise unremarkable system with no gas giants and a pair of blasted rocky worlds far too close to the B-class star to be of any use to anyone. The sheer radiation put out by the star would muck up any FTL wakes they would leave behind.

The delay in meeting had allowed both ships to escape any pursuit or tracking, and for the Firestorm to deal with their injuries. From what Shepard had gathered they'd looted a great deal of equipment from the surface, although not as much as the Blue Suns had. They'd also taken some heavy casualties, and were probably going to spend some down time refitting, resting and recruiting.

Having a PMC on hand if they needed heavy back up would be useful, but the base was not large enough to accommodate them all, not to mention any one of them could be a spy. Thus, Massani would be the only one coming into Revenant proper.

Massani departed from his cruiser in a battered shuttle, which landed neatly enough inside the hangar bay of the Normandy. Shepard slid her helmet shut before stepping out of the elevator, walking past the front end of the cargo bay to come to a stop as the shuttle's hatch opened.

Zaeed stepped down, carrying a long black duffel, and turned to the younger man with sandy blond hair who remained aboard the shuttle. "I'll be off for a while, so don't do anything too guddamned stupid. We've got contracts lined up and ready t'go , and there's cash enough to pay the men for a year or more."

The younger man nodded. "Yessir. We'll keep the fires going."

Zaeed chuckled. "Good lad. Get. I got shit to kill." He turned away without another backwards glance, walking up slowly towards Shepard in her armor. "So... Butcher. Jack says I'll be crashing with you and your gang for a spot. Says there's some things we need to discuss."

Shepard nodded. "Follow me, please." Shepard lead the mercenary into the elevator, and was silent during the short trip to the QEC conference room. Zaeed's eyes flicked left and right during the trip, but he moved in an otherwise relaxed manner.

Upon reaching the conference room, Miranda was already waiting for them. Shepard motioned him in and then stepped in herself.

Zaeed glanced at Miranda for a long moment before turning his gaze back to Shepard. "I'm here. What's the big deal?"

Miranda spoke, her tone crisp. "Mr. Massani, the Illusive Man has already laid out the very basics of our mission, has he not?"

Zaeed nodded sourly. "Some zog-off guddamned snipe hunt. Figure out why these Collectors are nipping the wildcats. Get in there, blow the fuck out of one of them, board their ship, and fly through the Omega Four relay. Bit hazy at what happens after that, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out it probably involves a big fucking bomb."

Miranda's cool expression was unmoved. "...essentially correct. The chances of survival for such a mission would normally be so low as to call them suicidal. But you have already seen first hand just what the Butcher can accomplish. We are gathering together some of the galaxy's best fast-strike combatants to aid her in the assault."

She handed him an OSD. "This has all of the relevant information and intel that you are required to know. It should answer any questions you have, although I will of course be available for other inquiries. "

Zaeed took it with a dubious look on his face. "Fair enough. What about the Butcher here? You stay sealed up in that armor all the time?"

Shepard held up a hand. "Part of the contract you signed should have said my identity was to remain a complete secret, yes?"

Zaeed nodded again. "It did. And once I'm bought, I stay bought. I won't say who you are, but I don't get why you hide yourself. You piss off some big shot member of the Thirty?"

Shepard tapped the helmet control on her collar, letting her helmet segment and fold away, revealing her features. "Not exactly."

He stared at her for several seconds before turning to Miranda. "Is this some kind of joke? D'you think you can just take the piss out of me?"

Miranda shook her head. "It is no joke. We have... brought her back. As hard as it might be to believe, we did so from beyond death."

Zaeed gave a laugh, shaking his head. "Sugartits, I've seen shit you wouldn't believe. Hell, I've done things you wouldn't believe. Walking away from a crashing ship, maybe someone could survive that, but I heard tales of what that turian bastard dug up. Shepard was deader than dogshit. And what got buried in the fancy ass funeral on Earth if not her?"

Miranda's eyes had narrowed at the derogatory name, but Shepard only shook her head. "Flash clone, Massani. We can talk about me later – for now, let's just say that announcing my identity would cause all kinds of shit we're not ready to deal with yet. You're the second recruit, so I'm going to ask you what I asked the first one."

She folded her arms. "You're a merc – famous even. Why take what sounds like a suicide mission for pay, no matter how much said pay is? What do you really want?"

The mercenary gave her a long look. "Before I answer that... humor me. Not sure I buy that you're who you claim to be. We fought on New Louisiana together. Had a little conversation towards the end of that fight. Remember it?"

She smirked. "Yeah. You were stupid enough to hit on me. I told you if you did it again, you'd need a seeing-eye dog."

The flicker of surprise in his eyes was almost impossible to see, but his smirk wasn't. "Hmm. Maybe it is you. You do fight crazy enough." He turned away from her, pacing the length of the room.

"You wanna know why I am here? It's a long story."

She shrugged. "I need to know."

He turned to look at her. "If you want me to wax goddamned nostalgic, I will. I started the Blue Suns. Me, a guy named Vido Santiago, and an asshole turian named Kuril."

She smiled. "I know Kuril very well."

He grunted. "I was young and stupid, so was Vido. Kuril was angry and pissed off even back then. Shot the hell out of slavers, busted up stupid fucking gangs, and made a killing. I wasn't a guddamned hero, just going after the easiest loot – but the Alliance and Hierarchy liked what we were doing."

He smiled faintly. "Even got official contracts. Big money. Everything was going good, until Kuril drifted away, caught up in his looney-arse vigilante fantasies. He wanted us to focus on stopping bad guys, I wanted the best fights, Vido just wanted cash. We expanded to take up the slack from him building that prison. I got bored, started doing crazy missions for the challenge. Vido got fucking ideas. Wanted to bring in batarians. Better killers and cheaper he said."

The mercenary spat. "Guddamned terrorists, I said. All I wanted was the fight, the killing. Listening to some dumb bastard screaming for mercy. The money wasn't even important. It was the fear, the legend I wanted."

He looked up. "Vido ended all that. Got greedy, didn't like how I wanted the legit contracts while the other PMCs did slaving, drugs and worse. Tried to turn the Suns against me, and when that didn't work, set a trap for me. Double crossed me. Shot my most loyal men, set me up, blew up my ship, put a bullet in my head and left me for dead."

Miranda's eyes widened. "You survived being shot in the head?"

The merc leered at her. "Shepard here survived being blown tah hell, and you survived having enough titty surgery to break a krogan's back." He ignored her outraged splutter to turn back to face Shepard. "Rage... is a hell of an anesthetic."

She nodded coolly. "So this is just about revenge?"

He shook his head. "Naw. Killing Vido is just wrapping up old business. He's a worm. He's terrified of me and too chickenshit to try and kill me in the open. Tracked him down once before, shot my way through seventy of his so-called soldiers, didn't even take a single hit. I could have walked in with a fucking steak knife and no barriers and killed the lot of the sloppy idiots."

He rubbed his chin, eyes narrow. "Bastard got away before I could kill him. This time he won't get lucky."

He straightened. "But no, not revenge. Guddamned stupid motive, that. You get it and you're still empty. I'm not getting any younger." His voice roughened. "Jessie and I have spilled enough blood to fill a lake, and I'm getting tired. Money's pointless."

He smiled faintly, almost cynically. "Killing what can't be killed though...doing the mission everyone says is impossible...that's more my speed. They said I couldn't assassinate the CEO of Korsys, but I did. They said I couldn't take down a turian cruiser all by my lonesome, but I did. They said Gravalax was a suicide mission...but I'm guddamned here."

He stabbed his thumb against his thick armor. "I'm the fucking best. And if I'm going to go out, it will be doing things no one else can. Firestorm doesn't need me anymore. It will be what the Blue Suns should have been."

She nodded slowly. "The Legend of Zaeed Massani. Huh." She shrugged. "I can handle that. Can you handle me not being dead.?"

He shrugged. "I doubt a clone would remember a conversation like that, and there's no reason anyone else would. Besides, like I said, I remember how you fight – crazy, suicidal and guddamned bloody. You haven't changed that much."

She smirked. "Then welcome aboard. When we're in the field, only address me as Butcher. And don't call my XO sexually harassing names - or any of my other female team members - or I'll use a singularity on your nuts."

She said the last in such a sweetly saccharine tone that Miranda had to bite her tongue to keep from bursting into laughter, and Massani actually took a step back. "Jesus, woman. A man can't admire beauty?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Zaeed, there's a line between 'admiration' and 'harassment'. Don't fucking cross it again. Besides, you're old enough to be her grandfather." She smirked. "If you want to flirt, though, there is an asari doctor on board. She's probably your age. Or younger."

The mercenary gave her a vile look. "Ha fucking ha." He shook his head. "You didn't drag me up here just to spill the beans that whoever killed you did it as half-ass as Vido tried with me."

She nodded. "No, I didn't. As I said, you're the second recruit. Our goal is to stop the Collectors... and prove that the Broker is working with them. Take his ass out, and when we take the Collectors out, prove the existence of a worse threat than that."

Zaeed's stern expression became baffled. "What in the guddamned hell is worse than giant bugfuck things stealing people?"

Shepard grimaced, nodding to Miranda to activate the displays. "They're called Reapers."

O-TWCD-O

The Normandy arrived back at the base without any incident, docking and disembarking the crew. Explaining the true situation to Zaeed had set even that hardened figure into mild shock, and he agreed that the situation had to be handled. He was even willing to delay chasing after Vido – although, if they came across a clear hint of the man, he wanted him dead.

As it turned out Zaeed's skills were more than just being a powerful killer. He was not ignorant of finances, having run his own mercenary group for over a decade, and had a wide range of his own contacts in places such as Omega and the Terminus systems where Cerberus had almost no real reach. He was also excellent at training, and Miranda suggested having him provide combat training to the marines and the team would only make them all better.

Once settled into the docks, Miranda and Sedanya had Shepard report to the medical bay and did some more diagnostics, while the rest of the doctors argued over scans of the minor damage to her heart, lungs, and shoulder.

Listening to the conversation was somewhat surreal, as they pretty much ignored her as she sat on the diagnostic table while they pulled out various charts, omni-graphs and scans. Shepard didn't understand most of it, but could make out bits and pieces, and surreptitiously used her omni-tool to figure out some of the rest.

The good news was that the damage to her lungs wasn't as severe as Sedanya had worried. The armored rib spars had been damaged enough, however, that Doctor Hyrim and Doctor Kyursko had both argued for doing extensive repair work, probably replacing at least three of them.

The bad news was the armor-mesh that protected Shepard's heart had been driven into the outer wall of her heart, and if they were going to fix anything it needed to be that and soon.

Shepard listened in mortification as they discussed her as little more than a robot, talking about 'shutdown schedules' and maintenance procedures, downtime and 'repair optimization'.

The damage to her shoulder, while patched up in part, still lingered, and Hyrim declared the cybernetic arm needed a full re calibration. Without bothering to explain, Kyursko had gestured Shepard over to the private medical area and told her to take off her loose-fitting shirt.

"Excuse me?" Shepard eyed the woman skeptically.

The busty Russian doctor half-turned, her voice clearly amused. "I am sorry, but your arm is damaged. We can't repair it with it attached, love, so it has to come off."

Shepard's eyes widened. "You're cutting my goddamned arm off?"

The doctor shook her head. "No, no. It detaches. I mean, you are mostly machine now...off with the shirt."

Shepard did not particularly care for the way Kyursko's eyes traced her form as she uneasily took off her shirt, but was even more alarmed when the woman used a haptic marker to trace several lines across her shoulder.

Shepard herself spent a good few minutes watching in morbid, slightly horrified fascination as they cut away synthetic flesh around her damaged shoulder using a protolaser, and then rather roughly disconnected her entire arm to work on the shoulder connection assembly. She awkwardly managed to pull her shirt over her chest and sat propped up in the medical bed, swallowing a bit at the ramifications.

She was still doing so, finding herself in a bit of shock at how easily she was taken apart, when Miranda came in.

"Shepard... are you alright?"

Shepard gave a thin smile. "Yeah. Just... that was a bit sudden. Listening to Kyursko and the rest arguing about if they need to 'shut me off' and cut open my chest to repair things...is a bit hard to take." She sighed. "And she sort of walked off with my arm... can't put my shirt back on right."

The Cerberus officer sighed, crossing the room to help Shepard pull her shirt back on, and then sat across from Shepard in the single leather chair. "I know that. I apologize for their … lack of tact. Particularly Doctors Kyursko and Hyrim." She leaned forward. "I... I tried my very best to make this process as painless as possible. I know the truth of it all, shoved in your face, doesn't help you deal with what you have already suffered. And I'm sorry if it comes off as a bit inhumane at times. So much of what we did is beyond medical knowledge..."

Shepard rubbed her face with her remaining hand. "I don't want to sound like a crying child, Miranda. Or an ungrateful, whiny bitch. It just threw me a bit."

Miranda smiled faintly. "You are not." She tapped her omni. "Doctor Chambers. Shepard is currently in medical. The... doctors decided to talk openly about what might be needed in terms of maintaining Shepard's health, and your number one fan just disconnected Shepard's cybernetic arm and walked off with it."

Chamber's voice was sharp with anger. "Goddamned idiots! I fucking swear, it isn't bad enough we get her whole life ruined and shove her in a situation like this, but that pack of war-criminals just acts like... ugh. I'll deal with it. Remind me why TIM didn't go with my recommendation, download their shit into gray boxes and execute the lot of them?"

Miranda chuckled. "It was seen as a waste of potential resources."

Chamber's voice was low and hard. "Just stay with her, if you can, Lawson. God knows this isn't going to make her trust the medical staff any more, and you're the only one who screamed at TIM for being a dick about this so far – maybe you can calm her down, I wouldn't be fucking calm. Chambers out."

Miranda winced at the last statement, but Shepard arched an eyebrow. "...I'm guessing I was not supposed to hear that?" She shrugged, then sighed as the loss of her arm made her tilt.

Miranda shrugged, then stood. She shrugged out of her jacket and gently placed it around Shepard's shoulders, before sitting back down. "It... I have certain issues with the way some aspects of your resurrection have been handled. I haven't hidden that. Doctor Chambers also has disagreements."

Shepard pursed her lips. "Translation: you don't see me as a science experiment and the rest of the doctors do? Six-Hawks seemed worried about my eternal soul or some shit."

Miranda nodded. "Certainly, Doctor Six-Hawks has a... unique viewpoint on the situation. And Doctor Andira never saw you in such a light. But the ugly fact remains that I fear too many of the doctors got used to seeing you as... well, a cadaver. The majority of the team leads were anti-social loners who frankly could have cared less about who or what Cerberus was as long as they got to advance their own theories. Not a single one batted an eyelash when they found out they weren't working for the Alliance."

Shepard nodded slowly. "Huh." She almost shrugged, but with only one arm it felt off. "Mad scientists acting like mad scientists, shock. Then again, I was sort of a cadaver for a while. Not that I appreciate being treated like one now, but I guess I can see how you could end up feeling that way."

She laughed at herself. "Empathy from me. Death, you worthless bitch." She smiled bitterly. "It's nothing new, Miranda. I don't want to sound fucking emo, but I've gotten used to the fact that most people don't understand me. It used to make me sad and now it just makes me shrug."

Miranda sighed. "I certainly do not feel 'that way'. I may not understand you but I can at least try to treat you with dignity. Which is why I fought so hard to make sure you could be as comfortable as possible. To minimize the more distressing and, dare I say, inhumane aspects of all of what you are having to go through." She glanced away. "No one should have to feel like a science experiment."

Shepard leaned back a bit. "Hmm. I guess that's because you were... made? Engineered to a specific task?" She saw Miranda flinch at that and grimaced. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I just – "

Miranda held up a hand. "No. You... you are perfectly correct, Shepard. I did see... or wanted to see... parallels in this process. There is every possibility that I am letting my own background, my own issues color events. Mr. Harper seems to think that, but I do not think so. You are not a machine, Shepard, or a robot. You're a person. One who has been badly hurt, and who required a lot of medical attention – but a person."

The black-haired woman looked away. "I have had problems with how certain events were conducted – or framed – for some time. Forcing you to watch that video the first day you woke up was just the latest of them."

Shepard looked down at the floor, but found her lips smiling almost against her will. "We talked about that. I understood why he did it."

Miranda almost snarled. "The capacity to understand an act does not give it reason, or sympathy. Just because it served a purpose does not mean it couldn't have been handled another way!"

Shepard's smile blossomed fully, a very rare thing. It transformed her whole face, and she looked at Miranda almost happily. "You didn't have to care, you know. But you did. The fact that a bunch of assholes didn't care doesn't really affect me... that someone does care makes me feel a lot better. A lot better."

She shrugged. "Not to cry over my own spilt milk, but I should be used to people treating me like some kind of... thing by now. I had gotten used to not feeling that way. Got used to having people care."

Miranda nodded. "And now everything that prevented you from feeling that way is gone."

Shepard shook her head. "...not everything. You do. Tali does. I guess I have to have faith I can just find more people." She paused. "It's funny. Kelly was talking in my quarters on the way here, trying to convince me that I should trust Cerberus. She was upset, almost. I figured it was just more psych bullshit."

She looked up, meeting Miranda's eyes. "But she really is pissed at them treating me like the weapon I am. She's worried. Imagine that."

Miranda swallowed. "You know that we... viewed your memories."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. She told me."

Miranda stood suddenly, pacing. "It... I had lived my life in isolation, thinking that what I had endured – what I had been put through – was horrible. That I was well justified in being bitter about it. And then I watched that. Those... scenes. I could not view it all without being ill. I tried, but I could not."

Miranda's voice wavered, before returning to its usual firm tone. "Chambers watched all of it. I will not claim to like some of the methods Chambers uses, or her perspectives on some things. We did not agree on many things during Revenant. But the one thing we both fought for is that you had to be treated with human dignity."

A sad expression crossed Miranda's face. "You have suffered enough, I would think, already. Adding to your pain with inhuman disdain is what has drawn her anger, and mine, more than once. The doctors did not see your memories. They did not... have the sort of ugly backgrounds I had."

Shepard adjusted her position. "From what Kelly's told me, she didn't have an easy life either. A lot of losses, and no clear path."

Miranda shrugged. "Perhaps not. But nothing she or I experienced is as bad as what you did. I frankly found it difficult to understand how you persevered." She smiled sadly. "Which is why, despite me being made to be perfect, I am not. I never found a reason to push myself when everything came effortlessly. If I had been in your shoes... I don't know what I would have done."

She took a shaky breath, and Shepard smiled, this time sadly. "When Liara first saw some of it, she about broke down crying, and asked me how I had not just killed everything. I don't... like the idea of my past being seen. I'm ashamed of it. What was done to me. What was... forced onto me. And what it turned me into."

She scratched her jaw with her only hand. "It messed up my whole way of life. Every part of me is fucked up by what I went through." She traced her hand across the top of her thigh. "I never thanked you for leaving my ink and my battle scars intact but removing the... reminders of what they did to me. I can't thank you enough for that. Alliance said it would have caused me too much damage to remove them all..."

Miranda gave an angry nod. "I could not allow those... reminders... to remain. The doctors did not understand." She paused. "It was Kelly who decided you needed to retain your Tenth Street Reds tattoo... and the battle scarring. Both for your own peace of mind about not being a clone, and because they had deeper meaning to you."

Shepard nodded, and Miranda's expression softened further. "But no matter what, Shepard, please believe me when I say nothing we are doing is without awareness of the cost it has to you. And if things of this nature happen, it is because there is also the knowledge that you are the only real hope we have – that Cerberus has – of effecting any lasting change."

The woman's smile faltered. "And if I'm biased by my own history, perhaps empathy is not misplaced."

Shepard shook her head. "What I'm trying to say... what was done to me is different than what your father did to you. You were... used from the moment of your birth. In some ways what happened to you was worse than what happened to me. But the results aren't much different. I'm goddamned artificial. I don't even know what the fuck I bleed, except you somehow made it come out purple."

Miranda nodded. "A similar process to what we did with your hair. Helps with the illusion that you are asari."

Shepard huffed. "Bottom line, though – I have to accept what I am now. I have to... deal with having my arm just detached and taken off to be repaired. It just shook me."

Miranda frowned. "But there isn't any value in forcing you to endure that."

Shepard tilted her head. "You said I'm not a machine. The doctors seem to feel otherwise. I myself told Jack that – it's why I was the logical choice to fight Okeer. If I get hurt I can be fixed."

Miranda shook her head. "Maybe your physical form can be, Shepard – but as I said. You are a person. The wounds your mind takes, your... well, to borrow from Six-Hawks, your soul – isn't something we can fix so easily. God knows if I could do anything more, I would."

Shepard smiled, but before she could say anything Chambers walked into the room, eyes narrowed. "Miranda! Where is that bitch Kyr – oh. Shepard. Um. Hi."

Shepard managed not to smirk, instead she only arched an eyebrow. "Problems?"

Kelly narrowed her eyes. "I just need to sort a few things out. Miranda, I've talked to Wilson. We need to do some corrective surgery on Shepard's heart, and they would like to at least check out her ribs, make sure the injuries she took fighting Okeer won't cause pain or medical problems down the line. If you could move her into the main surgical bay, and put on her general anesthesia and nerve system shutdown, I'd appreciate it."

Miranda nodded. "And her arm?"

Chambers shook her head. "Kyursko is a floozy who probably screwed her way into her doctorate – and that's coming from someone with my own past. Idiot bitch. I'll handle that tramp myself and deal with what she did."

Miranda compressed her lips but merely gave another nod. "Very well." She turned to Shepard. "We'd like to go ahead and put you under, so that we can perform the medical aspects without having to endure any additional thoughtlessness from the staff. Is that okay?"

Shepard sighed and nodded. "I didn't mean to zone and look freaked, it's just – "

Miranda shook her head firmly. "Shepard. There is nothing wrong with your reaction. The way the doctors acted was completely unprofessional."

Chambers muttered. "What do you expect from researchers anyway?" She heaved her shoulders and smiled at Shepard. "I apologize, and we'll make this right. This won't take long, I promise. Then we can go get smashed. Bring Jack and Tali." She glanced at Miranda. "And Lawson too. Did you know she sings when she's drunk?"

Shepard couldn't suppress a small laugh at that, and Miranda's archly muttered 'traitor' only made it turn into a full blown laugh. She slid off the bed, and then the door opened again, revealing the slender, nervous figure of Doctor Carla Andira. "Doctor Chambers? You said Shepard needed to be taken to the main surgical bay?"

Kelly nodded. "If you would be so kind. Please prep her for surgery and administer standard anesthesiology. Hyrim and Doctor Lawson here will scrub."

The half-Brazilian woman nodded, and smiled gently at Shepard. "Please follow me, milady."

Shepard gave a groan. "Really? I thought I was done with that shit."

Miranda smiled faintly as Andira lead Shepard away, before running her hands through her hair. "Idiots."

Chambers nodded sourly. "...I'm starting to doubt, Lawson. I really am."

Miranda frowned. "...doubt in Shepard?"

Kelly shook her head angrily as she walked to the door. "No. In fucking Cerberus. In the idea that Shepard would ever want to fucking work with us if we keep doing shit like this." She looked up angrily." It was the Illusive Man who issued an instruction to Hyrim and Kyrusko to 'treat injuries as repairs'."

Lawson's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

Chambers sighed bitterly. "More half-ass recommendations from Dunn, of course. Dehumanizing her will make her more angry, more willing to do anything to get revenge. Force her to come to terms with what she is so she'll put the memories of her wife and friends behind her." She gritted her teeth. "The self-absorbed bastard actually said Shepard had no problems getting over the loss of her NCT so this shouldn't be any different."

Miranda headed for the door herself, sighing in disgust. "That man is an asshole. I saw enough of her memories to realize that her NCT abandoning her on Torfan very nearly destroyed her."

Kelly exhaled and nodded. "Go on and get started. I'll... deal with everything else." Miranda nodded and left, and Kelly glanced around before pulling up the medical records in the system, glancing over them for several minutes before heading out of medical and up towards the communications center.

Entering the QEC comms bay, she tapped the control. "Requesting comms. Doctor Kelly Chambers. Priority Papa-Foxtrot-Alpha."

It took only a minute and a half for the image of the Illusive Man to appear. "I was just about to depart in the pinnace to head to the base, Doctor. Your code indicated a possible failure state of the project – what is it?"

Kelly folded her arms. "Your instructions to the med-staff to treat Shepard's injuries as 'repairs', sir. I thought we were going to proceed with things as planned, not throw random suggestions into how we treat Shepard. The changes nearly threw her into a state of shock."

The Illusive Man lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Kelly, I have to make my choices from a unpalatable and often somewhat risky list of options. Our operatives report Hades activity and a full scale effort at localizing our aerospace construction facility in Sentry Omega. The Council just put out officially that the Spectres are to bring in the Butcher. There's been a sharp uptick in issues on both Ilium and Omega. We can't afford for Shepard to waver at this juncture."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "I fully grasp that, sir. We just had a meeting on it. I offered my viewpoints, agreed that some of what Dunn said had value, and we – I thought – agreed on being more direct. But we haven't even had a week of downtime to work on what we discussed. And we said blunt! That is not the same as letting the medical staff treat her like a malfunctioning LOKI and haul away pieces of her body while leaving her half naked and distraught."

He tapped his ashes. "And I disagree. A more humanized Shepard is one focusing on her losses. On her pain. Based on the reports, one more concerned with why she's doing things than what she is doing. If she's angry, if she's focused on revenge, she isn't trying to poke at things she doesn't need to or thinking up reasons not to trust us."

He glanced up, his features almost set into a smirk. "But I suspected that Miss Lawson – and yourself – would object to this path. I warned Miranda already about losing objectivity. We have to keep our view on the ultimate goal, not allow ourselves to be bogged down by sympathy for a situation we cannot change or repair."

He leaned back. "I am sure you and Miranda have no doubt conveyed your disapproval of my actions to Shepard. And by acting in this way, the less... viable elements of the medical team will certainly not be missed by Shepard when their usefulness is expired and it comes time to ensure they don't cause additional complications. After all, aside from Wilson, Andira, and Six-Hawks, once we have built up a good medical corpus and diagnostic dictionary, the others are rather superfluous."

Kelly forced her features to remain calm, and made her lips form a smile. "Ah. Misdirection. Might I ask the way you plan to handle any resentment this might create in Shepard towards you personally?"

He sipped his drink. "She requires such. Our last conversation enlightened me to the real issue – Shepard expects to be double-crossed, if not personally then in intent, or in spirit, or by our actions. She is going to resent me until and unless I have such an opportunity to betray her, to use her for my own ends – and I deliberately choose not to."

Kelly folded her arms. "And you plan to take advantage of that how?"

He smiled. "By manufacturing such a situation." He stubbed out the cigarette. "When the time comes, I will make the appropriate amends to her. Just keep doing what you can to make her feel comfortable, Doctor. Leave the rest to me."

He killed the signal, and stood, glass in hand, to walk over to the wide view-port set into his observation lounge. He killed his haptic screens, looking out over the ever-growing collection of docks and shipbuilding facilities erected in the asteroid belts of the system.

He sipped his drink again, unsurprised when Vigil suddenly appeared next to him. "Your ruthless nature continues to impress, Harper. A pity you were not an Inusannon, you might have even achieved low middle management."

By now, Harper was inured to the sphere's goading. The AI was a magnificent machine – with it, the machinations of the Council, the Broker, Hades – all normally lethal foes – were more akin to jokes. He instead focused on the ranked constructions being built even now by the AI's remote controlled servitors.

"How many ships have you constructed?"

The sphere pulsed. "Nineteen cruisers and seven battle-cruisers, along with fifty seven destroyers. The Ironic Gesture is almost complete as well. They will still utilize your own techbase for the most part, although I have... improved all components to maximum efficiency."

The human nodded. "Taking down the Broker will require an utmost effort if what intelligence you have obtained is correct. Assume that Shepard triumphs at Omega and is able to move on Ilium in short order – how long until we can be expected to have a mass of ships enough to break the Broker's defenses?"

The sphere hovered a bit higher. "Very soon. Between what I will be able to achieve on Omega and gaining access to the Broker's resources, I will have complete coverage of almost all areas of the galaxy except the Batarian Empire. The mercenary's networks will also be useful. Your plans will be easy to achieve, I suspect."

Harper sipped his drink again. "And your own plans, that you still haven't shared with me?"

Vigil's voice lost its usual smugness. "I have repeatedly told you, organic. I will be more than happy to aid you and your cycle in the fight. Longer term – there is little to discuss. There isn't much point handing you the technology when I can literally create ships from raw components given a few weeks time – and I distrust your ability to use such in a manner that won't ruin my plans."

Harper arched an eyebrow. "I trust you grasp my... reservations."

The sphere made a faint humming sound. "The Inusannon observed over a dozen cycles of Reaper aggression. Thus far, this particular pattern does not fit the previous events, which may be due to that... thing... inside the Citadel. If so, the Reapers may only choose to attack if further aggravated – and the nature of most Inusannon technology is definitely aggravation."

The Illusive Man finished his Wild Turkey. "And destroying their observation post behind the Omega Four relay is not?"

Vigil pulsed. "That remains to be seen. Letting them run free is not going to assist you in your own goals, so it ultimately becomes a moot point. Destroying them may or may not alarm the Reapers – wide scale deployment of Inusannon technology definitely will." The smugness rose in the sphere's voice. "You should occupy yourself in your own schemes, meatbag." With a hollow pop, the machine vanished.

Harper was silent for several seconds before pulling out a fresh cigarette and lighting it. He was just inhaling when the far door opened and the broad, elegant form of General Petrovsky stepped through.

Harper blew out smoke. "I presume you heard."

The general nodded, stroking his goatee. "Yes. As I said, I've had my suspicions about the machine's agenda for some time. The Inusannon do not strike me as the kind of people interested in petty vengeance from beyond the grave... and his skill-sets lead me to a more ominous conclusion."

Harper frowned. "He does not think we can win, and has already told us his creators envisioned a long-term strategy. What could be worse than being written off by the machine with technology to match the Reapers?"

Petrovsky folded his arms. "That his technology doesn't match them. I do not think he is hesitant to hand over what he knows out of fear it will be misused. His ethics are even below that of Richard, something I considered to be impossible, before I had conversations with him. And based on those conversations, his influence on the Protheans certainly made them ruthless enough to undertake the sacrifice they did."

He exhaled. "I think it is more likely than the threat of the Reapers is even more dire than he lets on, and that no matter what toys he pulls out to help us, we would still be overwhelmed. That he fears telling us the truth would lead to despair and surrender."

Jack turned to face his old friend. "On Shanxi, you told Ben and I that we always had a chance as long as we were alive and fighting."

The other man gave a wry, pained smile. "And look how that turned out." He unfolded his arms, rubbing the back of his neck as he arched it. "I've spent the past five hours trying to game out scenarios of invasion, finding variables and accounting for the unexpected. I need data – tactical, strategic, logistic and operational – to determine a viable strategy."

Jack slowly walked back to his chair, sitting as he dumped his ashes. "We're doing what we can. Okeer may have had insights into the goals of the Collectors. Taking out the Broker will give us more tools to discern, as will, in the fullness of time, the base or planet or station the Collectors are acting from. Even Hades ill-advised meddling with Reaper tech or whatever the Batarian Emperor is up to may provide useful insight."

Petrovsky nodded, but sourly. "Even so... I worry that Vigil's viewpoint is not truly aligned with our own."

The Illusive Man made a vague motion with his hands in the direction of the asteroid belt visible through the wide armaglass windows. "Unfortunately, the only reason we're still in the game is due to his sheer power. Without Vigil, staying ahead of C-SEC FINCIN, Commissars, Hades, and the Broker all at once would be impossible."

He sighed. "The Silver Legion alone would penetrate our network in days. Without Vigil, we'd have to expend huge amounts of capital and risk high visibility actions to build your vaunted military assets. Without Vigil there would be no automated fleet – we'd have to use Minsta's insane idea of appropriating the assets from TYPHON to build up a workforce and military force."

He puffed on his cigarette. "We could never have resurrected Shepard. We would be powerless, meddling idiots – and too likely to play with the same sort of things Richard and Hades are, to find relevance and strike power."

Petrovsky sighed. "Instead we are a shadow threat with far too much of our power tied up in a machine that is ambivalent about our fate or goals and a woman who by all reports hates us." The sarcasm in his voice was as heavy as his scowl. "You will forgive me if I am less than enthusiastic."

Harper laughed dryly. "No matter how advanced he is, Oleg, Vigil remains a machine. It has programmed priorities and orders. I don't need Vigil to believe in Cerberus or our goals – only for its actions to allow them to come to fruition. Vigil has already stated the pattern we're seeing isn't the same as other Reaper attacks – and that makes me believe we have a chance, however slight. I'll use that."

Harper dumped his ashes again, smiling faintly. "Shepard is a more complex case, but ultimately, both Mr. Dunn and Doctor Chambers are correct. The Council's heavy-handed decision to have her arrested by the Spectres will make her feel betrayed, especially when she sees the Asari Republic and the Salarian Union choosing to 'honor' Okeer. Likewise, the most recent action of the Alliance and the intelligence we just received about Commodore Anderson will infuriate her beyond endurance. I won't even try to rein her in on Omega, instead we'll deal with Aria in the only language she respects – eezo and hard cash."

He glanced over his shoulder at Petrovsky. "When she realizes that we're not all monsters – that part is being handled by Chambers and Lawson as we speak – and that her erstwhile 'leaders' remain fixated on power politics, she'll come around."

Petrovsky shook his head. "Acting in a way that goes against the advice of your personal psychologist, as well as Miranda, seems unwise. Shepard isn't a machine, no matter how much that fool Dunn thinks she can be treated like one." He grimaced. "It just seems unlike you, after the things you suffered, to trivialize her own issues in the name of manipulating her."

Harper smiled. "You were always the bigger and better man, Oleg. Compassion suits you. But Doctor Chambers is not my only source of insight into Shepard. Dunn may not be a trained psychologist, but thus far his advice on how Shepard will react has been more accurate than what Chambers put forth. Trellani also saw a great deal that those two didn't."

Petrovsky snorted. "There's a difference in Dunn being able to predict Shepard's actions and him understanding her motivations. God, Jack - I can tell how you'll react to any given action, but I've never been able to figure out why. As for Trellani…" He shook his head. "I know she has given you a great deal of useful advice. I fail to see how her understanding of the issues Shepard has gone through is superior to Chambers, who has been studying human psychology for years?"

Harper sipped his drink, frowning as a droplet of condensation splashed his slacks. "Trellani feels that ultimately Shepard ends up trapping herself in a loop of choices, for lack of a better phrase. Dunn alluded to this. Chambers wants us to slowly win her over, but Shepard does not exist in a vacuum. Chambers - and to a lesser degree, Miranda - won't admit to themselves that Shepard resists change until it is thrust on her with no other choices available. This seems to happen, based on her history, only after certain traumas or when she is emotionally compromised."

He tapped ashes from his cigarette. "Ultimately, I don't want Shepard broken. But I do want her somewhat vulnerable. I want to use that to change her viewpoint. I want the sympathies of Miranda and Chambers to soften her, and then when the time is right, I will take her advice in a fashion that ostensibly costs us some resources."

He inhaled sharply. "Shepard will continue to have some reservations about Cerberus in the long run. I can't change that, any more than I am willing to change our ultimate goals. We can change our methodology. We can change our outlook on some issues. But I need Shepard in a place where Cerberus is not only her only option - but one she chooses, and that she chooses it because we have put her in a place where it is the right thing to do. "

Petrovsky's voice was doubtful. "I fail to see how treating her poorly helps with that."

Harper smiled. "I will react to the 'poor treatment'. I will offer an apology. and insist that what I meant was misinterpreted. After the proper conversation, in light of some of the project heads are more than a bit superfluous at this point, take the appropriate action. I can change the presentation of certain things without losing our focus on other matters."

Petrovsky shrugged. "You might want to actually listen to her. Abandoning any morally bankrupt positions means not having to explain things away to her – and gives us a clean slate. I'm not stupid enough to think you'll actually stop such things, but..."

Harper smiled. "The few 'morally bankrupt' things we're working on are going to be carefully handled, Oleg – and in case things go wrong, why, those will be Hades facilities. Shepard can destroy them as she sees fit should they end up as failures."

The general shook his head. "And if Vigil decides to tell her of such things?"

Harper snorted incredulously. "Vigil does not strike me as... concerned with our morality. And if he was planning to do so, he would have done it already. Vigil assisted with the fallback plan, after all."

Petrovsky shuddered. "I saw the footage from the armor cams. Shepard would be … very upset if she ever found out about that option. Please tell me you've gotten rid of that option."

Harper said nothing for a long second, then sighed. "I'll get rid of it when Lawson and Chambers win Shepard over. Until then... I prefer not to toss away useful options. Is there anything else, Oleg?"

The Cerberus General arched his eyebrow at the hint of a sharp tone, but merely shook his head. "No, not at this time. I'll be in Engineering if you need me." He turned smartly on his heel and left, and Harper puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette before crushing it out.

O-TWCD-O

Coming out of surgery was, in Shepard's many past experiences with such, usually done in a hospital room, wearing embarrassing paper robes and being filled with machines. Shepard instead woke up in her own rooms on the base, dressed in black sweats.

She sat up, blearily, and then looked across the room as Tali came in through the door. "Sara."

Shepard pushed aside the covers and swung her legs around. "Hey. How long was I out?"

The quarian woman shrugged. "They brought you here about two hours ago... so about six hours total?" She folded her arms. "Lawson said you were more damaged on the inside than they thought. If Okeer had hit you a bit harder – "

Shepard snorted, still unable to get the agony of the blows she'd taken out of her memory. "Christ, Tali. If he'd hit me any harder I would have burst like a fucking pinata. He sent me flying with a single grazing hit and bent or broke plasma-forged titanium ribs." She pulled up her sweatshirt, looking for surgical scars – and found none.

Tali tilted her head. "While you were out, Lawson had the big krogan tank moved to Security holding, and hooked up to power, water, and air. And Chambers said that the salarian, Doctor Solus, is arriving in a few more hours."

Shepard nodded, standing and wincing a little. "I see. Where's Miranda now?"

The quarian woman gestured. "In her office... I was bored because Joker is having more bone therapy done, she asked me to come check on you and see if you were up to moving around."

Shepard flexed her arm experimentally. The shoulder felt fine, but there was still a subtle, weak ache in her chest. "I guess. Hungry though."

Tali nodded. "We can eat first."

It was a good hour before Shepard got done eating, showering, and finally becoming bored enough to wander down to the Security section.

The krogan tank was in a secure reinforced room with a powerful force-screen as the only way in or out. Two RAMPART mechs holding rotary assault guns guarded the doorway, while four more were tucked behind reinforced cover – two with powerful sniper rifles, and two more with Hydra rocket launchers.

Shepard arched an eyebrow at the level of security, only to hear the footsteps of Randall Ezno approach from behind her. "Commander, ma'am."

She gave the man a thin smile. "I'm not exactly military any longer, Mr. Ezno."

The big man shrugged. "Most of the people here are... not disciplined. Until you act in a manner hostile to Cerberus, I will treat you as a Cerberus Commander." He gestured briskly to the armored cell. "In case anything goes wrong with the krogan when you wake it up, we're ready."

She turned to face him fully. "I didn't say I was going to wake the thing up."

Ezno gave what could only be called a muscle twitch, not a smile. "Ma'am – your current combat roster is a bit light on heavy combatants. Mr. Taylor serves admirably given his defensive focus and biotic skills, but the rest strike me as highly skilled pressure units – not suited for heavy front line assault. Going into Omega is unlikely to be anything but such."

She nodded. "But we now have Zaeed. He, Taylor, and I can certainly back up any assault line. Mr. Dost also looks sturdy."

Ezno snorted. "Mr. Dost is a combat engineer who sat on his ass for five years. I predicted, based on your op tempo, you'd want to see if you could recruit this krogan. Am I wrong?"

She smirked. "I find it funny the least emotive guy here has a better understanding of me than the fancy psychologists. You get why I don't trust you people?"

He nodded curtly. "You distrust our motivation and restraint. Mostly the latter."

She leaned her weight back on one leg. "If you can get it – "

He held up one hand. "My superiors do not inquire after my viewpoint. My input into this project was mostly tactical. My insights were listened to politely and for the most part ignored. Cerberus is not a military project, and save for myself and General Petrovsky, has very little military discipline or understanding. Mr. Harper's motives are certainly not what someone like you would call pure. But they are better than the alternatives."

She narrowed her eyes. "And if that still means they smell?"

He folded his massive arms. "We're soldiers. Direction is for the brass. And no matter how high some people get promoted, they'll always be line animals. Ahern and Van Dorst come to mind." He nodded to her. "And you and I for that matter."

She gave a low chuckle. "Very well, then, Mr. Ezno. But there's more to it than motivation and restraint. I'm not going to stand by while fucked up shit happens on my watch – no matter what the cause is for. I'm not arguing for the sake of argument, but I've seen too many 'good intentions' that end up as total clusterfucks. The ends never justify the goddamned means if you turn into walking shit."

Ezno's eyes were cool. "Perhaps. I will not argue the defense of the Sao Paulo death squads, but I will also not claim that sometimes there simply are no good choices. It is why I gave up on morality and trying to improve things a long time ago."

Shepard nodded slowly, thinking how sad that was. "Not much different, I guess, than the way I used to be. You can still change."

Ezno shook his head. "Unlike you, I am... content with who I am." He straightened ever so slightly. "Thank you for listening, Commander."

Instinctively, she nodded crisply. "Dismissed, Mr. Ezno. I'll handle the krogan. Your precautions are more than adequate. Report to Ms. Lawson and tell her to prep medical if I get hurt."

He nodded and turned away, leaving Shepard standing thoughtfully for long seconds.

Finally, with a sigh, she turned to face the two mechs. "Drop the field, bring it up behind me after I go in."

The mechs followed her instructions without a word, and she walked past them into the cell proper. It was roomy – fifteen feet to a side – and bare of anything that could be used as a weapon save the creche itself.

She walked over to the control panel, and grimaced before touching the central glyph.

The tank shuddered, the front splitting open suddenly, letting clearish blue fluid splash and drain out. Shepard took several steps back, as the huge krogan within took a gasping, choking breath and collapsed on the floor, wires and tubing cleanly disconnecting from ports in the armor as he did so.

The big krogan coughed up more liquid, shaking its heavy head, hands splayed on the ground before shoving itself to a standing position. Glaring hard blue eyes blinked blearily before coming to an abrupt focus on her.

"...human. Weak." The voice was deep, almost basso like that of Okeer, but less sneering.

And with that, the krogan charged, roaring, trying to pin her to the wall.

Her first punch was enhanced with biotics, cracking his armor to hit him in the gut with enough force to stop his charge. Her second was a biotics-driven backhand that sent him stumbling back and half-spinning, blood flying from his mouth.

He stomped, shaking his head again, and spat blood. Shepard merely smirked. "Krogan. Stupid."

The krogan narrowed his eyes, and spread himself into a fighting stance. "I am KROGAN!" With another roar, he charged.

Shepard sighed, sidestepping the reckless charge. Using her biotics to lighten his weight she put his leading arm into a scissor-lock and then heaved, using her experiences in judo to flip him over and then into the hard metallic wall, which rang with a huge gong sound as he crashed into it.

Gamely he got to his feet, only to come to a stop when she drove her fist a good three inches into the metallic wall, making it buckle and creak alarmingly.

"...that power was not in the images I saw of humans." The krogan's expression was almost shocked, as he rubbed his crest sorely.

Shepard smirked again. "Aww. Did the little baby have a boo-boo?"

Teeth bared, he came to his full height, towering over her. "...name."

Shepard shrugged, pulling back her fist. "Shepard. Sara Shepard."

The blue eyes flickered over her form. "You are dead. And not your name. Mine. The tank...gave me only images."

She folded her arms. "I'm pretty spry for a dead woman. And having me name you seems significant. Not that I know about krogan naming. Are you some kind of leader... or a ground pounding warrior, a grunt?"

The krogan's tongue lapped past his teeth for a moment. "Mm. Grunt. Yes. Grunt will do." The eyes fixed back onto her. "Okeer wanted me to be a leader. But his imprint... has failed. I care nothing for it. His ideals and plans are meaningless garbage."

She rubbed her chin, examining him. "You were seeing images in this tank? Of what?"

The krogan swelled. "Of how to kill! To fight! To go to war and destroy our enemies.. and... other things. How to handle a Crush. How to lead. Some of it was... unclear. No context. Pictures without meaning, droning voices without importance." His voice dropped in volume. "None of that matters. I don't care about what Okeer wanted. He failed."

She smirked. "He damned sure did. I beat him in single combat."

The krogan blinked. Stared, and blinked again. "You... defeated Okeer? You are... not like any of the imprints of humans."

She walked up to him. "You have to form your own opinions on things... Grunt. Right now, though, if you aren't going to follow whatever fucked up bullshit Okeer had planned for you, what do want?"

Grunt's expression furrowed. "Want? The images never asked... what I want. How can I know? I am... newly formed." The rough voice was oddly thoughtful, as he glanced at Shepard. "I only do what I am meant to do. Fight. Reveal the strongest. Okeer's connection may have failed, but his concept of strength... that I like."

He flexed his massive shoulders. "All I know is how to fight. Without reasons...one battle is as good as any other. If you killed Okeer, then you should be a challenge."

She laughed in his face. "I just bitch-slapped your ass out of my way. If you want to fight me, you'll just die pointlessly." She walked closer to him, staring him in the eyes. "But if you want the best fight ever, you should fight with me."

He sneered. "Asking for my help means you are weak."

She tilted her head, then flashed into the kanquess. He whirled, but far too slow, as she emerged behind him. Her kick drove into his back, knocking him to the ground, and then she was on top of him, gleaming hot omniblade held inches from his eye.

"I wasn't asking, boy. And I won't offer you a second chance. You're either a valuable ally... or a soon-to-be dead liability. Which is it?"

The krogan made a pained grunting sound, then his muzzle split in a grin. "...mm. You are stronger. Okeer made me but I am stronger than he, but you are..." He trailed off, looking at her, then nodded. "Very well. I will serve you. Until I can find what I... want. If the fights are good."

She exhaled and got off of him. "My enemies threaten the existence of all life in the galaxy. The Citadel hates us, my own people think I'm dead, and we are outnumbered and surrounded by enemies."

He got to his feet slowly, and she folded away her omni-tool, checking where she had backhanded him. "You okay, big guy?"

He frowned. "...I am krogan. I do not need coddling."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a kid until I say otherwise. You do any of that stupid 'I am krogan' charging bullshit and I'll put you down myself. Now, are you hurt?"

The look he gave her was confused, but he flexed experimentally. "...no. Merely sore."

She nodded. "If you serve me, I have rules. Everyone who follows my lead is... in my clan. Our clan. You protect them – do not hit them, do not challenge them."

His eyes narrowed. "I will not serve those weaker than I."

She rolled her eyes. "You serve me and only me. Ignore orders from the others. In a fight, I need you to be able to follow my orders." She paused, then shrugged. "Like I am your battlemaster."

Grunt was silent for several seconds before nodding. "...the tank... there are imprints of the one called Shepard. A mighty warrior. You killed Saren and Benezia." Another long pause. "...I will call you battlemaster, until you prove weak. Then I will challenge you."

She shrugged. "And then you will taste the deck again, Grunt."

The krogan grinned, an expression that made him look almost painfully young and reminded her of Urv. "You are confident. There is no deception in your smell. You... do not fear. Are you really human or are you krogan?"

She stared at him a long time before bursting into laughter.

O-TWCD-O

Grunt sat irritably in the medical bay while Sedanya ran tests on him. Shepard stood off to one side, smirking as Miranda walked up.

"You have no concept of the word prudence, do you, Shepard?"

Shepard let her weight settle onto one leg as she folded her arms. "Nope. Why should I? We now have a giant krogan badass to cover the main weakness of my squad."

Miranda sighed. "Yes, well. Given that he has no background, no history, and a lot of aggression, I'm unsure how we should proceed in integrating him."

Shepard snorted. "Doctor, you about done?"

Sedanya nodded, walking over to Shepard, Grunt following along and towering over the three females. "Yes, I am. Grunt here is in perfect health, the most impressive specimen of krogan I have ever seen."

The krogan nodded. "I am the ultimate evolution of krogan."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "And modest too." She gestured to Miranda. "This is Miranda Lawson, second in command of this project. In the rare event I am not able to command you myself, heed her commands. She has a much shorter temper than I do and will not hesitate to kill you if you are insolent enough to attack her like you did me."

Miranda almost spoke but Grunt folded his arms. "...you think she could?"

Shepard snorted. Personally, she figured it would be ugly, short, and wouldn't end with Miranda winning, but no need for Grunt to know that. "Miranda is similar to you. Genetically engineered by a goddamned madman to be perfect. You might find something in common if you talked to her rather than try to fight her, but I'd put my money on her putting you down if you're dumb enough to piss her off."

The krogan's eyes flicked over the woman, Miranda steeling her jaw and staring right back, before the krogan sighed. "...Okeer's tank imprints suggested humans were weak. But if she is like you ..." He hesitated, then grunted. "Fine."

Something about his tone made Miranda's lips quirk. "You sound like an irritated teenager complaining about chores, Grunt. I assure you if I give you orders they will mostly be to back up Shepard. Like krogan, she prefers to charge in without thinking."

Grunt nodded at this, seemingly pleased. "Of course. A battlemaster cannot fear. He must face death without hesitation."

Shepard snorted. "I've already died. Wasn't scared of dying before, and I'm damned sure not scared of it now."

The krogan frowned. "...how were you killed?"

Shepard shrugged. "Ambush, had my ship blown up around me, crashed with it on a planet after being burned alive and pretty much smashed." She rubbed at her shoulder. "I got better."

The krogan's muzzle split into a grin. "Impressive. A few krogan have survived controlled crashes... but none have defeated death." A pause. "You will teach me such strength?"

Shepard's answering grin drew a huff of exasperation from Miranda. "Ugh. It's like you had a child or something. I will be in Operations if you need me."

Shepard laughed, although something in Miranda's words left a pang in her heart. She shook it off and turned back to Grunt. "Let's find you a good weapon, get you some food, and let you meet the rest of the team."

The krogan nodded. "...guns and food sound good. You are more krogan than human. What is the name of your clan?"

Shepard paused. "The group? Er, Revenant, I guess. But that's more of a formal name."

She turned towards the armory, Grunt following. "That is your clan name?"

Shepard shook her head. "Not... exactly. My full name is Sara Ying Shepard. I guess 'Shepard' would be my clan name, like Ganar was Okeer's."

Grunt nodded. "Ganar... their actions are weakness. One cannot manipulate their way to true strength. Okeer's enemies and plans are nothing to me, and I cannot use that name. You have offered me arms and food, as a battlemaster to krant. I am now Shepard Grunt."

Shepard pursed her lips. "...well, that's one way to keep the family name alive, I guess." She lead him to the armory first, watching his eyes widen as he took in the huge array of guns.

She glanced around, expecting to see Taylor. "Vigil?"

The sphere erupted into being, surprising Grunt, who jerked back. "Oh, look. The undead chieftain has taken on an even more primitive apprentice."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Where is Mr. Taylor?"

The sphere pulsed. "Taylor's shuttle is linking up with the pinnace bringing Mr. Solus to us – the Broker sent pursuit forces after them. The good doctor will arrive at the same time as Ms. Goto. Miranda already sent this update to your office, if you bothered to do more than wander about in a meat-head daze to check such things."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Grunt, meet Vigil. Ancient AI and goddamned asshole."

Grunt approached the sphere, sniffing. "...it has no smell."

The sphere's pulse was almost sluggish, it's voice dripping with sarcastic incredulity. "Amazing. You have found a being even more dim than yourself, meatbag. A crowning achievement."

Grunt, frowning, growled at the sphere, and Shepard snorted. "Don't bother. It's pretty much indestructible. Consider it training – if that thing can't get you riled up, nothing on the battlefield will either."

Vigil's voice took on a note of glee. "Is this, perhaps, permission to offer such training to the krogan?"

Shepard shook her head. "I wouldn't. Krogan tend to eat things they don't like, and I need him alive."

The sphere soared higher, out of Grunt's reach. "A horrifying experience to be sure, but one I have sadly already experienced."

She blinked. "You've been eaten by a krogan before?"

The sphere circled. "No. Thresher maw. One of Javik's... less intellectual plans. He was attempting to tame them as battle mounts."

Shepard could see this in her mind's eye, and nearly bent double laughing. "This guy sounds awesome. It's a shame he's dead, think of the shit we could have gotten up to."

Vigil's usual radiance dimmed, his voice dry. "A pair of violent, unnaturally augmented brutal meat-bags with fixations on vengeance? Yes, I'm sure that would end well. His idea of subtlety was even worse than yours, primitive."

She shrugged, gesturing to Grunt. "I was going to get Taylor to work with Grunt on picking out a gun, but maybe I should make something special for him." She cocked an eye at Vigil. "Those Prothean weapons things - the green crystals, is there any way we can use those?"

The sphere floated lower. "...perhaps. But without the proper focusing technologies, such emissions would be... diffuse. Short range, and somewhat conical."

Shepard's face split into an almost unholy grin, and the sphere suddenly wondered just what it had unleashed.