A/N: Moving right along, there's no need to drag these chapters out. And this one wasn't as difficult to write as the previous two. Again, thanks to the Editing Gang for cleanup and recommended fixin' and punctatin' and all that highfalutin stuff.

The Next Chapter is already underway at 5k words so far.

Read the works of Nolanstar, Xabiar, Aberron, and Katkiller-V or else I will make the Editing Gang read more bad fanfic.


'I once had the pleasure of discussing religion over dinner with the Stellarch Benezia T'Soni before she stepped down to Lunarch. I expected trite, preachy siari mouthing wrapped in mythological nonsense, and instead I received a somewhat elegant statement on the cold realities of religious belief.

The words were quite instructive: "If religion has no message aside from submission, or a place beyond death, or moral commands from those long-dead, it has instead become little more than a fantasy story. And once the words are more important than the message, nothing is left but a cult of fools."

At the time, I agreed, to an extent. Yet I found that message a curious choice of words from the leader of a religious movement. In hindsight, I should have seen the hints that the asari's entire religion, bifurcated as it was, indeed fell into the category of a cult of fools.'

-Doctor Ganar Okeer, 'Trivialities of an Eon'


The figure sitting across from the giant form behind the equally massive desk suppressed a smirk as she watched the yahg move from agent to agent, taking in reports and snarling back orders. The Shadow Network was starting to become unmeshed, the once smoothly running hive of dark agents and secret informers somehow unable to match the enemy revealed on Ilium.

Of course, the Broker dealt with all these problems with his usual cool dispatch, but the observer could almost feel his frustrations at the tempo of events spinning out of his clawed hands and into a fragmented, chaotic mess.

She merely leaned back, even as the Shadow Broker's eyes moved from screen to screen on the array of displays in front of him, one hand making notations on the haptic keyboard to his left. His voice held a note of irritation. "Agent Borak, what is the result of the probe team strike?"

The view-screen to the left illuminated, displaying an older turian with fading gray plates. "Tasarister, I regret to inform you that very little progress has been made. We were able to get the drop on a Cerberus data team, but the server itself had already been wiped – EMP'd and then slagged by applied thermal charges. The entire Cerberus data team turned out to be robots of some kind – processors detonated violently when we subdued one. We're examining the wreckage now, but we'll probably need a lab to figure any of this out."

The turian paused. "Their ship lit out as soon as we hit the team. We lost them in the asteroid field at the system edge, looks like they were headed for the Talask Trade Lane."

The Broker gave an irritated sounding noise. "Did we recover anything in the comms tap?"

The turian nodded. "There, we had some success. Cerberus, apparently, is deploying archaeological teams to multiple sites in the Black and Silver Rim, along with both private security and Diem's Lost Boys. Target specifics weren't being transmitted, but for some reason, they're looking for old asari colony or expansion sites."

The yahg's maw split open in dismay. "Pull your forces back to Dorcas III. We are… very short on combat teams now, due to Ilium. I'll send a field team when possible. Your primary objective is identifying those sites before Cerberus gets to them and taking out any research teams you can localize as soon as possible."

"Yes, tasarister… and the sites themselves?"

The Broker's voice was cool. "Destroy them completely, after taking detailed scans. Broker out." He clicked off that channel and immediately punched another control. "Agent Ythanas, progress on the financial transaction activity."

The image of an older salarian male popped up on the main central screen, the voice tired sounding. "Failure, I'm afraid. All of the active accounts were traced back to two fiscal dump accounts – looks like Cerberus used corporate fronts at least six or seven layers deep, coordinated through a law office on Vol Prime. Our agents there found the office – all six volus there were dead, no evidence remaining. We've tried tracing the transactions from there, but they liquidated everything nine days ago and the remaining information indicates the funds were used to buy hard assets – eezo, gold, platinum, and the like."

The Broker growled. "And these assets?"

The salarian spread his hands. "Loaded into two bulk freighters with light escort on course for Bekenstein. Halfway there, they got attacked by pirates, supposedly, and the ship was completely looted. We did get partial video from one of the ships – it won't hold up in court, but I'm almost positive Cerberus hit their own ships and made off with the goods."

The Broker's free hand tapped on the metallic desk. "Trace the salvage yards to see who shows up when the ships are broken, and monitor the finances of the dead volus lawyers. Broker out." He shifted to another channel. "Agent Procuous, status report on the investment tracebacks."

A human with Slavic features and a heavy beard gave a wry smile. "It's not very good. Cerberus bought up six different scouting and exploration companies about two years back and had them do system scans of over six hundred systems at the edge of FTL-range. We hacked the systems of five of those companies and have uploaded the locations to the Broker Network. The sixth, however… complications."

The Broker's mandibles flickered. "Define 'complications.' "

The agent sighed. "Just about the time the Butcher showed up, there was a fire at the sixth company's location. Burned up everything. The data center where they had their backups was taken out the same day in a freak shuttle accident. The owner and all three scout pilots were flying back to Coruna to see if they couldn't get some funding when their transport was hit and blown up by batarian pirates."

The yahg leaned forward. "You have the records of the other five scouting companies, yes? Can you extrapolate any areas we can discount based on those?"

The human stroked his thick beard, then shook his head. "Not really. At least four of them ended up hitting the same systems more than once, and the only survivor of the company we were able to find said they overlapped with other scout companies, often splitting the work of scouting a new FTL trade lane." He shrugged. "The best I can do in that regard is suggest that Cerberus is operating out of the Black Rim, Traverse, and Terminus – which we already knew."

The yahg grunted. "We did, but confirmation at least allows me not to waste time searching elsewhere. And perhaps the records of the five will have blank spots where we can focus. Is there anything that can be followed up on?"

The man folded his arms. "I'm running searches now on ADS-I and refueling logs – I did ID the ship registry numbers and I'm hoping to find some hits on what happened to the actual scout ships. I'm not hopeful, though, as whoever's doing this – and we both know it's the Dogs – is not leaving any loose ends for us."

The Broker shook his head. The ADS-I system was the galactic version of traffic control, supposedly meshing nav-logs and flight plans with sensor nets and the galaxy-spanning ICSC comm network. In theory, such a search might find something of use.

In reality, he expected another dead end. He ground his mandibles shut and fixed his gaze on the image on screen. "Very well. That is an acceptable course of action. Notify me immediately if you find anything. Broker out."

The massive form of the yahg leaned back in his customized chair, finally looking away from his displays at the slender form of the being lazily sitting across from him. "Harper's actions to move on the Citadel Powers was… unexpected. The data I left on Tazzik's graybox should have indicated my command ship would leave its location in less than two weeks – yet there has not even been a scouting attempt at nearby systems, and he plans for his agents to meet with Citadel officials within a day of the expected move."

The other figure lit a cigarette, inhaling briefly before puffing out smoke. Her voice had a lilt to it, as the smoke curled around the complex tattoos on her cheek and crest before she spoke. "Hardly surprising, all things considered. Harper never struck me as the kind of man to rush into a situation, and I suspect that all of Shepard's little team took grievous injury. Why risk them on a direct assault when he can turn the forces of the entire Citadel against you?"

The asari dumped her ashes on the tray set into the chair and smiled. "You know the Shifter will trip over his stupid robes selling anything he can on you. Aria would probably make nice with the Council in return for seeing you crushed. And the few bits we're getting from the comms with the asari and salarians indicates Harper's got both ugly blackmail and juicy intel."

The Broker's voice was laced with anger, but he broke off after a single syllable as another screen blinked. "Report, Agent Jhelos."

The image quality was poor, but the shape of the salarian in the image was distinctive enough to be made out anyway. "We just did a full sweep in a ten-jump-range of Project Gateway. No probes, no spy bots, no unexpected ships. No electronic or cyberwarfare intrusions of any kind. All sensors are clear and defense nets at one hundred percent. I had Blue Team monitor routing and piloting transmissions for the nearest Citadel bases, twelve jumps out – all traffic is for normal military patrols and doesn't come in the Zone of Exclusion at all."

The Broker's shoulders shifted. "Excellent. Maintain full coverage and vigilance. Broker out." He clicked off, then gave a rumbling grunt. "Harper is ignoring the rim project entirely. I cannot imagine his agents – or the Sisters of Vengeance – did not discover such a project existed."

The asari gave a narrow smile, puffing on her cigarette again. "I see the problem now. All along, you've been operating on the premise that Harper's plan was take you out in some kind of assault. Gathering information, the destruction of the Network on Ilium, going after Okeer and the slaver networks we were using for manpower – it all led up to that."

She ground the cigarette out. "However, if his plan was to ingratiate himself with the Council instead, then all he has to do is provide enough facts to turn them against us. You made good with the Citadel by helping with Remembrance, and by providing assistance in the Benezia Incident. The turians still dislike us due to Tetrimus, but we were operating freely. His moves can undo all of that in a few short days, and then we go from orchestrating events to reacting to them… and giving Harper a free hand to do what he likes."

The Broker placed his hands together on the desk in front of him. "You are suggesting Harper wants to neutralize me politically and limit the ability of the Broker Network to function? That was not Cerberus policy in the past."

The asari gave an asari shrug. "I don't think using the old methods of Cerberus is an accurate forecasting device, if for no other reason than Harper's moves don't make a lot of sense. I suspect that his end game has less to do with some kind of melodramatic direct confrontation and more with usurpation."

The yahg inhaled sharply at this, sitting up straight and narrowing all of his eyes. "Clarify."

She smiled again. "You are relying entirely too much on your species' views of threats, I think. To you, there's only one play – no competition. But the angles are all wrong for that – he doesn't need to take you out. Not a single operation we've run against this new Cerberus has amounted to anything, and we've lost almost all our heavy combat teams, all of our wet-teams, the entire Ilium Net, all our assets on Omega, and countless other things. We're not a threat."

The Broker gave an irritated grunt at that. "We have been stymied at every turn due to the interference provided by Vigil."

She smiled. "Exactly. And if we're not a real threat, then why come after us at all? Money? Flipfish. Harper has enough money to do whatever he likes. Data security? He has the Vigil device, which makes any kind of cybersecurity of dubious value. Material assets and ships? If our spectrographic readings from the wreckage of the single ship we recovered at Ilium is any indication, all of these new ships are being nanofabbed in deep space somehow."

She leaned back and crossed her legs. "In other words, he has everything he needs already – money, power, security, ships. Having collected some of the most powerful and deadly adversaries as his minions only makes direct aggression more unlikely. If he can neuter our influence with the Council, that will bleed over into everything else we do."

She pulled out another cigarette from the white leather pouch by her side, lighting it a moment later. "This political push is one of two things. One, he makes us out to be an enemy of the Council and uses their forces to conduct a sweep against our own organization. That would cripple us, especially if Vigil gets involved, not even mentioning the Silver Legion or the League of Zero. We'd be forced back into the Traverse and the Terminus, and to increase our connections with the batarians. Since that's in our Rim project's area, Harper might be just trying to sideline us entirely so he can focus on the Collectors."

The yahg exhaled. "And the other option?"

She inhaled and blew out smoke. "That this is all a trap. That he's not just sidelining us, he's drawing things out. He's planning on taking you out and capturing your assets, and he's distracting us with all these side moves to make it look like there's some other plan. He's doing this whole Citadel thing hoping we'll react, expose ourselves, whatever. If he's not taking the bait at Yurn-Orn—"

He snarled. "Then he has already somehow ascertained it is bait." A heavy fist pounded the desk. "This is… possible. Unforeseen, but possible. And not entirely unexpected – I have prepared if they attempt to strike at me here."

She made a loose sign of siari agreement. "So I have seen. Your ex-League of Zero bot friend is formidable… but so were Tetrimus and Tazzik. I don't really match up in that regard."

The Shadow Broker fixed his gaze on her again. "You were brought into the Sanctum for a reason, Dahlia. Your forces have stopped even Royal Hunting Parties, and even the STG is wary of moving against you. I expect that power to be used here. Your sister will be arriving soon, as you requested. I expect remuneration."

Dahlia Dantius smiled wider. "And you'll have it. And in return, when this is cleaned up, you'll help me finish off Aria, and we will both profit. All I am saying is that all of this political and financial maneuvering is deliberate – it is designed to make us think that instead of a direct strike, the focus is on sidelining us and that this is a push of influence – when instead they really do plan a direct strike and want us caught off-guard."

The Broker gave a slow nod. "A clever idea, but I do not fathom how that is possible. In order for such a plan to succeed, they have to have the location of the Shadow. The only link from here is to the communications cruiser, and it has been in uncharted systems since I had it break orbit at Vol Prime. There is no way it could have been compromised."

She shrugged. "Then we have a leak… or a traitor." She puffed on the cigarette again. "If Harper is wasting time with politics and letting his killers heal to throw us off-guard, I say we take advantage of it. We have time to do a check and purge, see if we find any little dartfish singing where they shouldn't – and prepare for an assault on this vessel. If I'm wrong, then at least we can go back to trying to figure out Harper's plan."

The Broker nodded again. "And if your suspicion is correct?"

She stood, stubbing out the cigarette. "I don't think it matters much. They only managed to bring down Tetrimus and Tazzik after both of them were half-dead already. Even if they found their way here, the static defenses are incredible and could stand off a fleet, even if the Shadow doesn't get involved in combat."

She laughed. "And if they're stupid enough to board, they're just dead. You could toss in the Azure Lily and a dozen other lethal killers alongside – taking this ship by force was already impossible before I brought in my commandos, not to mention the Immutable's own forces. And I've worked with you long enough to know fighting you is a death sentence."

The Broker grunted. "Nothing is impossible. The same sort of grand pronouncements were made about Chresi V. The same claims of being unbeatable were often thrown around when it came to Doctor Okeer. Harper's forces have achieved that which most thought impossible already – I will not assume I am safe. And despite my caution, there is no certainty – especially given the Ilium debacle – that we do not have a spy in our ranks."

She gave a small smile in return. "Does this distrust also extend to me?

He made a gesture with his hands, his rumbling tone softer. "No. I have not forgotten your assistance when I was but the servant, nor your aid when the previous Broker sought to… alter the deal. That is why you are here, in my presence. If you were going to betray me, the optimal time to do so has long past."

The smile grew. "Coming from you, old friend, that is a vast compliment." She gave a slow exhalation of breath. "What now?"

He made a waving gesture. "I must plan. Attend to the security issues, and if our enemies come, we will deal with them."

Dahlia tilted her head to the side. "Speaking of plans… what about your favorite pal? He's still waiting on an update, isn't he?"

The yahg glared at her, which only intensified her smile. After a moment, he made a disgusted sighing noise. " 'He'? It's a machine, I do not dignify it with anything but being an instrument. And yes, I will notify Almnrut – when the time is right. That thing, as much as it irritates me, might be useful in dealing with intruders as well. Until then, I see no reason to give it additional reason to poke around."

Dahlia's smile turned feral. "Very well, then. I'll be around. Always a pleasure, Ty'Tra'Thect."

She exited the shadow-dappled room, the security doors shutting heavily behind her, and the Broker leaned back in his seat. After long seconds, he tapped a control on his desk.

"Detach four scouting squadrons from Yurn-Orn on a three-jump lag pattern to Vinsis X. Use all sensor detection and forced bombardment scans of the entire path, and check for observational nanite clouds and stealth probes. If the route is clear, inform the squadrons at Yurn-Orn to break position and transition to Vinsis, and to remain at jump-ready-status until otherwise notified."

He clicked off, running his hands against his jaw thoughtfully. The situation was rapidly moving beyond prediction and control. His two main agents were dead. Dahlia was a known factor – probably the single living being he could place any level of trust in – but she was right in the fact that it hardly mattered what moves Harper's pawns made.

Only in how they were destroyed.

O-TWCD-O

Telanya laid quietly in the medical recovery bed, staring blankly at the padd she'd been given.

The bed was too comfortable. It relaxed under her, as if she was making it comfortable, instead of the other way around. The pillows were fluffy, curling around her crest easily.

She could feel the intention behind its designer – a wish to provide comfort to a soldier returning from the most dangerous of battlefields, one who fights hard for their dreams and their precious people.

A respite from the horrors of the rest of their lives.

It was not something a wretch like her – void of the idealism she once had – deserved. Years of sleeping in stressful situations, hounded by poorly healed wounds, filled with paranoia, desperate to keep Liara going even as her mind fell apart – none of that made her able to relax as the bed wanted her to.

Then again, nothing was ever going to be the same.

She stared at her hands. They were not the hands of the asari she once was.

Once, she knew what injustice was and fought against it. She knew what it felt like to fear for your own life, and she never wanted anyone to suffer as she had. She knew that, though doing good occasionally required putting your hands in muddy waters, there would always be a way to clean them afterwards.

Now, she felt as if she was the embodiment of injustice. All that had mattered to her was revenge. Collateral damage was a given. On Ilium, they were probably criminals anyway.

She remembered the screams of the salarian that had been taken out by the acidic bomb Liara had set up, killing the Broker's primary insight into the STG. The salarian had not been screaming in pain, but because her children were in the blast.

Once, she would have never, ever condoned using a bomb like that with even the slightest chance of collateral damage. Once, she'd have been horrified at the idea of killing children, regardless of what crimes their parents might be guilty of.

Instead, she'd remembered the vicious smile on Liara's face as they'd watched the Ilium Disaster Corps isolate and decon the building, thinking only that one more Broker lackey was dead.

Her old self would have been happy to end a soul like hers. Her old self would never have compromised her principles so severely, or thrown away the idealism that had attracted Garrus to her in the first place. She wondered – would he have killed her without a second thought if he knew what she'd done, back when he was just a hot-gunning C-Sec cop?

Oh Goddess, Garrus.

She put her head in her hands and actually attempted to cry, as she had been doing for a little while now while she tried to process what had happened. To process what in the name of the merciful Goddess she was supposed to do now.

Of course Garrus was the Archangel; that was exactly what someone like him would do in the situation he found himself in. Fight the good fight. Keep fighting when the light faded, because it was right.

Of course he would have moved on from her and found someone else. Everything else kept on moving, no matter how much she fell to pieces and hurt.

Problem was, she didn't know how to keep on moving. Her eyes flickered down, at the padd. Reading the news and fallout from the past few days had been a method to try to get her mind off of what she now faced.

But it didn't help. Her heart wouldn't stop hurting and she didn't know what to do – she just wanted to scream until her lungs gave out. She was trying her best to keep it together, putting a fresh layer of paint on the wall of a ruined, abandoned temple. She had at least managed to not fuck up when meeting Garrus. She'd listened calmly, and only said she needed time to think.

Think about what? Garrus was alive. And Garrus had moved on.

She didn't know what to do next, and she was done crying, if only because there simply weren't any more tears left in her, just pain, and the cold realization that she was alone.

With a wrench of her will, she forced herself to stop thinking about it. It was done. He moved on, now she had to as well. The alternative…

She paused, then shook her head. Tetrimus was dead, she didn't see much reason to stick around, to watch this Melenis drape herself over Garrus. She'd watch the Broker die, if for nothing else than personal satisfaction, but after that?

She couldn't compare to any of the people on Shepard's team, she didn't have any special talents that could help the mission any more than anyone else. Shepard had all kinds of experts now, all of them not weighted down with mental issues and tension with other people on the team.

Garrus had gotten over her and found someone else, she didn't want to be around to cause any more pain for him by digging up old memories. Lady Liara would… she would survive, even if her and Shepard needed a lot of work to come back together again.

She coughed and then grimaced in pain. The doctors here – wherever here was – had done a top-notch job on fixing her up, at least in the physical sense. Her vision was still blurred in her right eye, and there was concern that she still had some internal injuries, but for the most part, she'd actually weathered Ilium better than poor Liara. That didn't mean she didn't still feel broken up on the inside.

She shook her head again, trying to clear the feeling of fog out of it. She wondered if she should just take a shot when they went against the Broker. Dying in combat might be easier to handle than her killing herself.

With my luck, Garrus would blame himself for that, she thought sourly. Then another thought struck her: Cerberus could bring back the dead – would they let her stay dead?

The idea that Cerberus had actually brought the dead back to life was both disturbing and chilling. Even with Shepard calling the shots, the amount of power that gave the organization was insane. Who wouldn't want their loved ones restored to life from accidental death?

A person who'd lost their spouse to some mindless accident, or their young child to a freak infection? Sports heroes killed by a bad play and a broken neck? She could think of all kinds of methods to use the Revenant Procedure to coerce or gain someone's allegiance.

As for herself, she had no real idea of what to do now. For more than two years, she'd had a driving, unrelenting goal – revenge. Revenge on the Broker, who was responsible for all the suffering she and others had gone through. Revenge on Aria, eventually.

Revenge on everything, for taking the only place she felt safe away from her. For taking Garrus.

She knew she was messed up, with a head full of damage from the ardat, and some questionable actions in her youth. She'd tried to play the straight and narrow, being a good C-Sec officer in a force where being clanless meant you'd be lucky to ever move beyond sergeant.

In defying the orders of the Council of Matriarchs, she'd shot her C-Sec career in the foot, only to have it salvaged by the final stand she and Garrus made in the Citadel Tower during the Benezia Incident.

She sighed, clicking the padd off. With Garrus alive, and with the Broker's death almost a certainty, she was sure nothing was left for her. In a way, it was… freeing.

Garrus had explained the situation with this Melenis, and she could tell he was torn in half. He'd known Melenis for two years, which was almost as long as he had known Telanya herself. He would be okay.

She grimaced as the entry chime rang. Probably one of the doctors, she thought. "Come in."

The door opened, revealing a tall, thin asari in a black and gold Cerberus jumpsuit. Her skin was the purple of the mountain clans, set off by narrow and cool pale gray eyes. Small white markings decorated her crests and shallow crescents her cheeks.

Her voice was lilting and warm, reminding her of her mother. "Hello, Cena Telanya. You are well?"

Telanya shrugged, wincing as that drew pain from her injured side. "As well as one can be with healing third-degree burns and a cracked skull. I am… not unwell." She made a sign of siari welcome. "And you are?"

The asari returned the sign with a crooked smile. "I am Melenis, daughter of Avenasi, of the Mountain's Reach Clan. I thought we should talk."

She closed the door behind her and sat down on one of the comfortable chairs to the side of Telanya's bed, as the other asari gaped in disbelief before narrowing her eyes.

"What – exactly – is there to talk about, Cena Melenis? I am a broken thing who has committed a list of crimes as long as my arm, in the pursuit of revenge, only to find out my husband was never dead in the first place. He has moved on, and now, so must I."

Melenis gently shook her head. "There are two things wrong with what you believe. First, he hasn't 'moved on' at all. I'm sure he made it sound like he was at fault, but that is why I am here. One of the reasons I am here, at least. Second, I'm not that much better than you, in my own eyes."

Melenis met Tel's gaze squarely. "Garrus spent the better part of two years mourning you. He threw himself into vengeance and fury because he blamed himself for your death, and the more time went on the angrier he got. He never 'got over you.' He never stopped blaming himself. I chased him for a year and the main reason I got nowhere is that he didn't want to… give up his pain."

Tel closed her eyes and sighed. "But he did eventually."

Melenis shook her head. "No, he didn't. We had sex, we linked, but there was certainly no bonding. It was him looking for… comfort, or support with all the pressure he had. But he never let go of your bond with him, and it has left him unbalanced and more unsure of himself."

Tel fixed Melenis with an icy stare. "So why haven't you moved beyond that? If he's hurting—"

"Because I can't fix him. I can't…" She paused. "I'm a matron now. In my youth, I was wild and angry. My mother died early, and my aithntar was a turian outcast who didn't know how to raise me. He left Thessia when he couldn't afford to stay, and taught me what he could, before he got brutally killed trying to deal with an old rival."

She gave a sigh. "And so, I ended up on shitty Ilium, with no money, a clan brat on a planet full of bitter pissed-off clanless. With no other options, I ran with other outcasts and grew up with the 'flower gangs.' "

Telanya knew the term – packs of orphaned or outcast asari maidens, who tagged along with more serious gangs in hopes of being good enough to pass the Trials to join Eclipse. For many poor clanless on Ilium, Omega, and other places, Eclipse was their only hope for a better life.

She didn't want to think about the kind of hazing a clan kid would have gone through.

Melenis's voice turned cool and grim. "I was reckless, and I was stupid, and I was besotted with a turian gang leader who ran a pirate outfit. And I did whatever he wanted me to – because I was wanted. I killed, and I stole, and I laughed at the misfortune of others."

Telanya watched, as the other asari hung her head and clenched her fists. "One day, we got a hit on a supposed transport of raw, unstamped eezo bricks. Worth millions of creds. It was being smuggled on a tramp freighter supposedly carrying a handful of passengers and farm equipment. We struck the ship quickly, intending to disable it – and in doing so, we holed the ship. Killing the crew. Standard for us."

Melenis looked up and her eyes were tired and cold. "…I was the one who made the call to hole the ship, you see, and fired the guns. When we boarded, though, we found out it had all been a lie. There was almost no eezo – that was made up, to con some pirate lord into allowing it through for a cut. Maybe a half dozen bricks, a few thousand creds worth. No, the real cargo was a lot uglier. The freighter was full of slaves. Specifically, child slaves – asari, turians, a few drell. Five hundred seventy-four."

Tel swallowed, listening as Melenis continued in a quiet, soft voice. "I walked through that ship, through torn tiny corpses, through pools of commingled blood, through what I had wrought. And I hated myself."

Melenis bit her lip. "I spent the next two hundred years trying to make up for what I had done. I renounced violence and weapons, I studied to be a medic and an emergency worker. I trained my sister how to do so as well and worked for hospitals and burn wards, caring for injured children. I donated to the turian thasvar going after slavers."

She sighed. "Eventually, things went south, and I lost my sister to violence, and ended up on Omega, of all places. Trying to… do anything. I hooked up with a crazy human called 'Angel' to patch up people hurt by the gang warfare in the lower wards. And then one day, while out salvaging for goods, this near-dead turian fell out of a garbage chute into our laps."

Melenis looked up. "I'm telling you this so you can understand. I'm sure you hate yourself for the crimes you did on Ilium. But you did it out of vengeance, and having lived on Ilium for a century, I can tell you there's not a lot of innocence down there. There's nothing you can do about what you have done, but many have done far worse – and without the excuse of being half-mad from bond-shock, grief, and anger."

Her voice turned bitter. "More to the point, Garrus loves you. More than you can grasp. He's fond of me, and he… enjoys me. But he loves you, enough to overlook what you've done. I'm not so sure the same is true of me, as what I did in my past was simply for thrills. You're better for him than I ever could be."

Telanya felt an odd twisting in her guts – hope, anger, jealousy, pity. Melenis was beautiful, talented, brave – and she'd done something in her youth perhaps worse than any of the things Telanya had done alongside Liara.

For a long second, she said nothing, then she made a sign of siari disagreement. "…When I was younger, I wanted to be… loved. My mother was abandoned by my aithntar, and that broke her heart. I wanted to belong, but we were dirt-poor clanless. My mother worked multiple jobs, and I was lucky enough to get entry to one of the free schools on Thessia that Uressa T'Shora opened up."

Tel looked down at her hands – scarred from fire, two fingers broken and crooked, wrapped in splints but still damaged – and smiled. "I was hardheaded and ran with the wrong crowd of friends, thrill seekers looking for fun. Fumbled melds and sex, or flirting with turian boys in the Fields of Meeting."

She looked up. "I ended up joining the Republican Guard, as I was good with a rifle. I don't have to explain how shitty clanless get treated in most Guard units, but… I had a job. We got deployed, we chased off pirates, we got the job done. I could support my mother. I could buy my own clothes. I wasn't broke-ass poor anymore."

She closed her eyes again, wincing at memories. "After twenty years of that, I applied for a position with the city Militia. Did that, never made much rank because I was 'clanless trash.' Shifted to an indep militia unit associated with Serrice, got to travel around. Stupid, empty-headed, moving from bed to bed and lover to lover searching for some kind of meaning."

She exhaled. "That eventually ruined me. I met with what I thought was another young rookie named Evicsa, and there's where my life went to shit. Evicsa was an ardat-yakshi."

Melenis winced. "Shit."

"Yeah. She played me like a flipfish and almost gutted me like one. It was only luck three of my friends crashed my place to get me to go out drinking and interrupted her. She killed one, and I fled in a panic. Sold all my shit, quit, got a ticket to the Citadel."

Telanya spread her hands. "I joined C-Sec – no qualifications for anything else – and a year and a half later, Garrus ended up saving my life by risking his own life and career to kill Evicsa when she showed up to finish me off.

"So, when you say I'm good for him, you're wrong." A finger pointed at someone who was only trying to help her fix the paint. Why was she making it worse? "Even before I turned into a monster, I did nothing but ruin Garrus's chances. Caused him friction with his parents, his government, and almost caused him to lose his dream. And now? I'm nothing. I'm broken, and I've defiled myself. I've killed and blown up people and stabbed people… and unlike you, I didn't spend two hundred years redeeming myself, cleaning myself of my fucking shit!"

The last was screamed, as Telanya's heart felt like it was tearing in two pieces.

Melenis gave a slow nod, giving the silence a moment to return as her last sentence's echo faded. "I know. You haven't had the opportunity to redeem yourself. And if you run away now, you never will." Her voice hardened. "You won't be helping Garrus. If you flee, you will only cut him worse, make him feel as if he wasn't worthy. If you kill yourself, you won't do anything but tear open his wounds."

Every single point she made was another knife in her open wounds. She wanted to scream even louder, but the matron stood and continued to speak.

"I can't fix him. I can comfort him. I can listen and console him. I can, I suppose, be entertaining bed sport. I can't redeem his feelings of failure. I can't undo how he has torn himself up mentally and emotionally over how he thinks he failed you."

Her voice twisted again, notes of fatigue and something else Telanya couldn't make out. "And I'm not stupid. I was never some kind of… hardened killer. I know how to fight, but I know sooner or later, I'm going to dive when I should have risen, and probably die. He's already had one bond break on him, he can't take two, or two failures to save someone."

Melenis's eyes met Telanya's. "For all your presumed faults, it's clear to me you're a lot tougher. I mean, after surviving Ilium, Tazzik, Tetrimus… you will live through whatever is coming."

Telanya said nothing for a few seconds, then leaned back on the bed. She could barely keep her thoughts straight, the voice of her mother screaming at her, Garrus glaring at her like she was less than dust. Her voice was a whisper, trying to block it all out. "I don't know how much strength I have left. Or if… without the rage, the need for revenge, I even have anything else in me to give."

Melenis stood up, her eyes cool. "Only you can answer that. But if you really love Garrus, then you'd best find the strength to try. If you don't, you'll only hurt him even more."

Melenis leaned forward, her voice quiet and cold. "I love him enough to let him go if I have to, even though that would tear me apart. I love him enough to let him go to you, even as I wish I knew how to fix him myself. I love him enough to suffer and die for him, if I must."

She turned to the door and opened it, half turning to look at Telanya once more. "Do you, Cena Telanya? Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself and think about him, if you really love him."

Telanya stared at her then shook her head. "You are a fool if you think Garrus would do something like have a fling with no attachments. Garrus never engaged in shallow acts like that."

Melenis said nothing, and then smiled bleakly. "Maybe he's changed too, then. Think about what I said."

The door shut, and there was nothing left but silence in the room.

O-TWCD-O

Shepard found Garrus in the main habitation level lounge, staring out the reinforced armaglass windows at the expanse of space beyond. A bottle of turian brandy was on the table next to him, and his glass was almost empty.

She sat down across from him, wincing as a flare of pain hit her in the side. "You okay?"

Garrus gave a flare of his nostrils, the equivalent of rolling his eyes. "I'm just great, sheep. My dead wife isn't actually dead and is obsessed with the idea she's worthless, my lover is sure I'm just going to ditch her, and now I have to explain to my sire and family why I let them think I was dead for two years."

Shepard nodded. She picked up a glass from the small rack at the end of the table and poured herself some of the brandy, before taking a sip. Like all turian brandies, it was sharp and spicy, although the feeling of heat she remembered from drinking it before she died was muted.

"Far be it from me to say this, chicken… but you have to look on the bright side of shit. They're both hurt. They're both in love with you."

Garrus shot her a look. "Yeah, I got that much."

She leaned back. "Asari aren't big on single partners."

Garrus drank again, draining the glass. "That's not funny. By the spirits, do you know how much of a fucking mess that would be? I can't even help Mel with whatever she's done in her past, and now Tel is so broken it's like she's a completely different person. Your answer is just—"

She interrupted. "It's not 'just' anything, Garrus. God knows I hate drama and I am the least fucking qualified to give romance advice." She paused. "But before we found Liara… I was tempted. To just… let it go. Do something with someone so I could stop feeling this empty fucking gap in my chest. I think if things had gone on, I'd have done something stupid with Jack."

She looked at her glass. "What you're in is a mess, yeah. But the way I see it, you're not looking at it the right way. Telanya needs your help. And I'm guessing Melenis does too. So, either you try to make things work with both of them or you cut one of them loose. Doing that to Tel—"

Garrus snarled. "I know! Dammit, I fucking know." He lowered his head. "I should be happy, right? That… she's alive. That I can still hold her. See her. But I still failed. I failed to keep her safe, I failed to keep her the way she wanted to be. Because I failed, she ended up being twisted until she hates herself. And Melenis? If I hadn't given in to my own pain, this would be simple and easy. She'd be disappointed, but could move on."

He poured himself more brandy. "Now, whatever I do, it's fucked up. And somehow, Shepard, I don't think it's going to be as easy as: 'hey, threesome!' "

Shepard sipped her drink. "I don't know." She paused. "We should be grateful, you know. Could have been worse. What if Liara and Tel had… gotten together?"

Garrus looked at her, and then spread his mandibles in a turian grin. "You're messed up in the head, you know that, sheep?"

"Just sayin'." She sipped her drink again, leaning back. "Whatever happens, you need to talk to them both. When we go after the Broker, we all have be one hundred percent."

Garrus nodded, gulping down his drink and placing the empty glass on the table. "…I don't know if I'll ever be one hundred percent again. Like I told Tel, some of the shit the Archangel did was… I question it now."

He looked back out at the window. "I remember you telling me red tape had a purpose, and Pallin telling me cutting corners would get someone innocent killed one day. It's the same for all of us. Liara and Tel started out trying to do things right. So did I. But we – Angel… my gang… and hell, Tel and Liara – fucked it up, drowned in hate and revenge and losing sight of what we were even doing it for."

Shepard peered into her glass. "Isn't the same true for me?"

Garrus gave a short laugh. "No. It never was. To you, the only thing that matters is 'why.' "

She frowned. "I don't get it."

He spread his hands, his voice warbling a bit with emotion. "I mean it just like I said it. You don't see it the same and you never did. I think most people don't get it, but… it's just black and white for you. You're either trying to fix things or you are going to get killed. When someone fucks up, you want to know why – and if they're going to change, or keep doing the same shit."

He paused, and she thought about that. Certainly, she could understand now that there were gradations of things, but it really did boil down to just that – the why. In her mind, the things the governments got up to were never acceptable, because the why was nothing more than wanting to stay in power and run shit. With Liara and Tel, the why to their horrible acts was to stop a fucker in league with Reapers.

She didn't see the point in getting all upset over the fallout from that. It wasn't pleasant, but it was a damn sight better than what would happen if the Reapers showed up unopposed.

Lost in thought, she looked up when Garrus tapped her. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Just… thinking. I guess you're right."

He nodded back. "I know I am. I know you pretty well, sheep. You never really gave a shit about the others caught up in your raids on the pirates, did you? The people who got killed just for being on the planet?"

Shepard gave a soft, weary smile. "When I was running with the Tenth Street Reds, we got our juice – red sand, heroin, what have you – from this guy working with MarsGene. Chemist or some shit, handled a bunch of medical drugs and all that. He never killed anyone directly. He never used a gun, or sold the drugs to a kid. Never made some single mother snort lines of coke she paid for by selling her body. Does that mean he wasn't every bit as evil as the dealer?"

She exhaled. "The people on Chresi and the rest of the pirate stops weren't 'good people' or 'innocent.' They lived on a place making money off enslaving people. I don't really give a shit if they did it themselves or allowed it to happen, if you support and prop up evil shit then you should be judged for that."

Garrus blinked. "And that's what I meant by the why… but there's a different question. Is that justice?"

Shepard shrugged. "Law never really mattered to me. Laws were just shit-covered tools, tools that the big shots and guys with money and crooks manipulated and used to get out of trouble. The law didn't keep me from getting sold, raped, then turned into a piece of shit. The law didn't stop me from selling to kids, to pregnant mothers, to anyone. It didn't stop the corruption, or the screams at night from some poor bastard having his silver torn out to be resold."

With a disgusted shrug, she shook her head. "And justice? The fuck is justice when people like Tali and Joker get shat on for doing the right thing? When Kyle had to kill himself to get the fucking Lords of Sol to back off of their plotting? When people like Angel and Sidonis and Krul get railroaded to goddamned Omega? None of that shit is justice."

She finished her drink. "Justice – real justice – isn't law, chicken. I know that's hard for a former cop to swallow, but there it is. I don't go after people who break laws. I go after people who hurt those who can't protect themselves, who use and abuse people for nothing more than fucking enjoyment or profit. I killed all the fuckers on those planets because they prospered and benefited from the slavery and death of innocent people."

She put the glass down, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "So, fuck 'em. Never lost a night of sleep over that shit, and I never will. You and Tel and Liara are so caught up in being disappointed in yourselves for going 'too far' that you don't stop and ask yourself what would have happened if you didn't."

She tilted her head. "If not for the Archangel, how many more on Omega would have suffered and died? Been enslaved, killed, or worse? If not for Liara and Telanya breaking the Broker's power base we'd have no leads – and what kind of bullshit were his people doing, how many lives did they ruin?"

Garrus sighed. "…Justice shouldn't feel like math. Turian law works that way. If you have to kill five to save ten then that's the right thing to do, but it feels wrong. It's why I walked away from it, from the whole meritocracy. Why can't you just save the ten?"

Shepard leaned forward, placing her hand on his arm. "Sometimes we can't do that. Sometimes we get it wrong, and sometimes, there's just no 'better' or 'clean' way to do it. Tossing aside the red tape will bring up problems, that's true. Doing it without regard for the laws will end up causing collateral damage, also true."

She patted his arm. "But if we have to fight Reapers, you know full well calls like that aren't going to result in clean, justified actions. We're going to have to sacrifice. And I doubt very much shit is going to go well."

Garrus flicked a mandible in disgust. "Is that what we've been reduced to, then? How is that any better than the tark-shit the big shots on Palaven or Thessia pull, or the Lords of Sol you gripe about so much?"

Shepard gave a wry grin. "Mainly? I'd say the biggest difference is the conversation we're having now. We both know it's fucked up. Like you said, it's the why. I don't like doing it. I don't see it as the cost of doing business. I see it as tragic and sad. I wish you hadn't slipped up on Omega, and I wish Li and Telanya could have kept their shit together a little better on Ilium."

She leaned forward. "But I'm more concerned about the billions and billions who are gonna die if we get this wrong than I am for the few that got killed – probably doing shit that wasn't on the straight and narrow to begin with."

She leaned back. "At the end of the day, chicken? I don't have enough left in me to throw away Liara because she made some bad calls. I'm barely hanging on mentally and emotionally. If that means I have to deal with it, then I will. And the same is true for you."

Garrus slumped his shoulders, then sighed. "I'll… figure something out." With a grunt, he straightened. "You didn't come down here to talk about this."

She smiled, standing up. "Finally got a transmission from Palaven. It's time to have a chat with them. You're with me."

He flicked a mandible. "Oh, great. This shouldn't be awkward at all."

O-TWCD-O

The massive viewscreen in the forward operations bay of the base was where Shepard had planned to hold any telecasts with alien leaders. Thus far, all comms had merely been text transmissions, aside from the call to the High Lords of Sol. Although they'd gotten confirmations from most of the alien governments, this would be the first live comms with them.

Garrus had put on a turian-style Cerberus dress uniform of black and gold, while she wore white and gold. It still felt more than a little strange to wear the hexagon insignia, but the thought of putting on Alliance Blue again just felt… wrong and alien.

She glanced sideways at Garrus, standing next to her, watching him clench and unclench his hands. "Hey… you okay?"

He looked down at her and flicked a mandible. "No. Nervous. Worried. I…" He paused. "Like I said the day we met, I've never been a good turian. Too rash and aggressive in the military, till I got tossed from the Raptors despite being one of the best SKYTALON pilots in my entire claw section. Too reckless and trigger-happy in C-Sec, always getting yelled at by Pallin."

He looked at the floor. "Even me handfasting Tel was 'bad.' I was the last of the core male line of the Vakarians, I should have been with a turian female, continuing the line. Now they had to marry off my sister to a distant cousin, one who isn't very impressive in my sire's book. I let my family mourn me for two years because I was too… worried and scared to let them know."

He looked back up. "And now I'm about to face the High Primarch, and my father, and spirits only knows who else. And it's going to be a Trial, even if they don't call it that and it's not formal. It may not happen today, but sooner or later I'm going to have to own and justify everything or probably be tossed out of the Hierarchy's meritocracy."

She nodded. "…Is there anything I can do? Say to these guys?"

He gave a little laugh. "Not really. I appreciate it, but… you aren't turian. I guess to most people, my nerves seem silly, but I always wanted to be… to have the approval. Of my sire. Of the Primarchs. I never pursued the ways to get that because I didn't like how we went about it, but it doesn't mean I didn't assume as I matured, I'd change. I'd have time to… find a way to fit in better." He squared his shoulders, a wry tone entering his voice. "I guess that's shot all to the nine hells now, isn't it?"

She faced him squarely. "You didn't use to have this kind of doubt, chicken."

He matched her gaze, eyes sad. "You used to doubt yourself and your calls a lot more, sheep."

She nodded. "I did. And when I didn't, just when I thought I was so fucking badass I could take everything, I fucking died. Taught me a lesson I won't forget."

She placed her hand on his arm, pale brown against pale plates. "You are Garrus Vakarian. You can't and shouldn't change that – not for parents, not for the Primarch, not for anyone. You're my friend, and if the Hierarchy doesn't like you, they can shove it up their ass."

Garrus smiled at that. "…Thanks." He took a deep breath and swallowed.

She smiled back. "Whatever happens, this is still the Sara and Garrus show, okay?" She tapped the haptic panel next to her, transmitting the call beacon. "And here we go."

The screen – seven meters-wide and nearly as tall – blanked, then displayed the claw-symbol over roaring vakar of the Turian Hierarchy for a good thirty seconds. The screen blanked a second time, then revealed five turians sitting around a heavy, wrought iron table. In the background was a plain steel wall, with two of the hardwood placard-banners turians liked so much. The one to the left was trimmed in the white and gold of the Hierarchy, while the one to the right was that of a snarling animal head over a broken crown.

Looking over the turians, she immediately recognized Primarch Fedorian, as well as Executor Pallin. To the left of Pallin was a slender, hard looking turian with thick, dark plates and a cybernetic implant that curled halfway down the side of his face. She realized a second later, based on his face paint matching Garrus's, that this must be his father. Next to Regilus Vakarian, there was a scarred turian with light reddish plates and dark skin, wearing some kind of ceremonial-looking armor and robes.

The last turian she didn't recognize at all, only that he was huge even for a turian, taller than even Fedorian. Wearing a thick set of armor trimmed with red sashes, his silvery-white eyes intense.

Garrus crashed into a turian salute stance, slamming his fist against his chest. "Hail, Palavanus."

The giant turian inclined his head, his pale white skin offset by gray plates and those burning sharp silver eyes. "Hail, Vakarian. And greetings to you as well, Cena Shepard. I am Thanix Palavanus, Imperial Prince Regent and High Pretarch of the Palavanus Family."

She bowed. "Greetings. May I inquire who are these with you?"

He flicked a mandible in amusement. "Of course, Shepard. Present with me are High Primarch Fedorian Kurthal, Executor Advisor and Autarch Venari Pallin, Praetor Invectus, and, of course, Autarch Regilus Vakarian, leader of Family Vakarian."

She inclined her head. "It is good to see you again, Primarch Fedorian. And you as well, Executor."

Pallin's eyes were narrow and suspicious, while the High Primarch merely flicked a mandible. "You will understand if we are somewhat skeptical that you are who you claim to be – either of you. While we had no chance to perform any kind of forensic examination at the site where Garrus Vakarian was reported to be killed, there was clear evidence that nothing could have possibly survived the crash of the Normandy."

She nodded. "Garrus was lucky to have survived his fall. As for me, I never claimed I survived. I said I was brought back." She smiled. "I understand your skepticism – my own people were highly skeptical until I could say things only they and I knew about."

She exhaled. "I could mention the private meeting I had on Noveria at the Four Seasons, where you, Matriarch T'Armal, the Dalatrass, and President Windsor discussed Saren – and how you planned to piss on his body and set it on fire."

She looked at Pallin. "I could, I guess, bring up when I contacted you in the ruins of the Tower Defense center, being astonished you were alive, and you wishing the spirits would watch over me."

She smiled and shifted her weight back on one leg, folding her arms. "But honestly, I don't mind if you don't believe I am who I say I am. What matters is you believe I can deliver on what I say I can."

The voice of Garrus's father was rough and cool sounding, a deeper basso than his son. "Words, Commander Shepard." He looked at Garrus. "If you are my son, what did I tell you when we departed the Citadel the time we met your mate?"

Garrus lifted his head. "That as long as I owned my actions, you'd stand behind me."

Regilus exhaled. "…I see. And you did not bother to inform of us – your Family – of your survival why?"

Garrus leaned forward, a growl entering his voice. "Because it would have put you in danger, sire. You cannot understand how compromised Omega was. There simply was no way to get a secure message out – gangs of hackers cracked military encryption daily, and I could barely afford to feed myself or my men some days. My enemy was the Shadow Broker, and Aria was a threat too – if either of them knew who I was, you were my weak point. And if you're silly enough to think the Broker can't get to you on Palaven, you're very wrong."

He exhaled sharply, his mandibles flicking in series. "More than that… by the time I'd gotten to a point where I could have found a way to contact you, it had already been months and months. I was badly injured and in medical traction for a long time, and I did nearly die. When I came to, it was to find Solana was already handfasted. I didn't want to… mess everything up. I'd messed up enough already."

Shepard didn't like the tone in Garrus's voice, but said nothing as Regilus and Pallin exchanged glances, then looked to Fedorian. The latter spoke. "I see. While I am not sure I agree with such choices, I do grasp the sacrifice it had to be to give up your life to protect your family. That speaks well of your honor."

The heretofore silent Invectus spoke up. "We've wandered off the spoor trail, Fedorian." He folded massive arms over his barrel chest. "Doesn't matter if the boy made a good call or not. We still have no way to confirm any of this. Until we see a bioscan of both of you, there's no way we can take what you say as valid. Your actions thus far have been ones we approve of, and that inclines me to want to believe you – but we cannot afford to be deceived… and Cerberus is a name that does not fill me with joy."

Shepard shrugged. "That's fair, Praetor. And I happen to agree. Cerberus did a lot of, uh, very questionable things in the past, to say the least. I was disgusted about it, and that's why I volunteered to take them down in the past. But this Cerberus isn't going around cutting up aliens, blowing up people, or trying to start a fight. They've… no, WE have changed, and I think Ilium should have shown that."

She smiled. "But I get it. Expecting people to just take my word for it – when I'm supposed to be dead – isn't going to be easy. That's why I agreed to the bioscans, interviews, and whatever other shit the Council needs to realize I'm really me."

She folded her arms. "Prior to that day, I need to make sure you know what I'm putting on the table. I don't have time for political games, and even at the best of times, the Council is too inclined to maintaining the status quo instead of getting shit done."

She fixed her gaze on Fedorian. "And we don't have time to waste. The Reapers are still a threat."

Surprisingly it was Thanix Palavanus who spoke, his voice sounding irate. "A point on which we fully agree, be you an impostor or true. The other races have done nothing in preparation for the threat, thinking it a distant worry." His voice hardened. "We have not been so idle."

She tilted her head. "That's good to hear Pretarch. Allow me to give you the information we already have on hand. We have proof the Collectors are utilizing technology sourced from Reapers, as we were able to capture several smaller ships with equipment on board that we confirmed caused indoctrination. Likewise, we have the video of Collector forces deploying husks, like those done by the Reaper Nazara."

She tapped her haptic keyboard. "Attached is our preliminary analysis of that. We have financial and other records showing the Broker had to be in contact with the Collectors, as he pulled out financial investments from each raided colony only a day before each attack. We have evidence that, most likely, it was the Collectors who attacked the Normandy after our stealth system was compromised by a Broker operative. Finally, we have evidence that the recent attack on Ilium by the geth was triggered by something on the planet with a distinct Reaper data signature."

The big Palavanus nodded and slightly turned his head towards Fedorian. "As the spirits warned us, our trial is not over yet. I don't know if this is Shepard or some advanced clone, or some other form of impostor. I don't know if she has other agendas that may clash with our own. I do know the spirits have been screaming that we must prepare… and they swarm around this woman like nothing I've ever seen."

Shepard arched an eyebrow at this, but all the turians seemed to take this at face value, the suspicious set of Fedorian's features easing slightly. "I see. We will be happy to examine anything you send us, of course."

She nodded. "We also have some other information for you." She tapped her omni-tool. "Locations of almost a dozen separatist bases, most of them connected to those Facinus, ah, 'shitspurs'? Encryption key schedules, message authentication codes, and the identity of six of their infiltrators – one of whom is in your central comms facility on Menae. Additional evidence of the banking houses on Thessia who have been trying to cause issues with the volus banking system and to drive wedges between you and the volus."

She watched as Pallin and Regilus began scrolling through the information, the former uttering a string of low, muttered curse words. Fedorian only glanced to Regilus, who after a moment gave a grim nod.

"At least two of these locations we've suspected for some time, and the information on the infiltrators seems very likely – I'd already launched an investigation into Jutha Karsk. If he's a Facinus plant, he could do immense damage."

Fedorian turned back to Shepard, his voice calm, but a bit warmer than before. "Very well. I presume this offering is in expectation of something in return?"

Shepard gestured to Garrus. "In a way. When we get to the Citadel there's going to be an immense amount of political bullshit going on. What I need is a free hand to deal with the Collectors before they get us all killed, and to kill the damned Shadow Broker for trying to murder me and my friends. The Council is going to want to hem and haw and have committee meetings and investigations and God knows what other kind of shit."

She looked squarely at Fedorian. "I want you to have Sparatus shut that down before it gets started. I want the Turian Hierarchy to support us if we have to perform a military strike against the Collectors. And most of all, I need your help in ensuring the Council and C-Sec don't continue to listen to the Shadow Broker."

Garrus spoke. "And if nothing else… I'd like an official pardon for one of my team members, Lantar Sidonis. The strike he was discommendated in was a setup, done by Facinus infiltrators who were working with slavers posing as a legit trading group. I have evidence for that as well."

Pallin narrowed his eyes. "I remember that. Something seemed off about it, but the information we got on the lead seemed ironclad."

Garrus gave a soft snarl. "The information was from the Shadow Broker. He's working with Facinus and has been supplying them for years – and covering his tracks by framing Aria for supplying them."

Fedorian's snarl was much louder. "In that case, I will personally ensure the young claw is restored his rights. You have evidence to support this?"

Garrus glanced at Shepard, who tabbed through a few fields on her omni and then transmitted a file. "Yep, we sure do."

Fedorian exhaled, his massive shoulders flexing. "Very well. Assuming you pass the bioscan and are who you seem to be, I will personally be on the Citadel to support you."

Thanix Palavanus gave her a curious gaze before smiling. "I think I'll tag along as well. As you're taking the Reaper threat seriously, I have some… equipment that may be of use."

She arched an eyebrow. " 'Equipment'?"

The big turian grinned. "Guns."

She matched his grin. "Guns I like. I look forward to meeting with you both… my people will reach out to you once we're on the Citadel."

Fedorian nodded, and Regilus swallowed. "Garrus."

Garrus looked up, mandibles tight. "Yes, sire?"

"I'm proud of what you achieved on Omega." His expression turned into a scowl. "But I thought I taught my son better than to walk right up to giant cyborgs without making very sure they were actually dead."

Garrus's expression turned sheepish, and Shepard gave a small laugh at that. "He's still hot-headed, sir."

Regilus nodded. "Indeed he is. I… I will see you on the Citadel. If there is nothing else, Primarch?"

Fedorian shook his head, and Garrus gave a turian salute again. "Serve in duty."

The Palavanus returned the gesture. "Spirits protect."

The signal cut out, and Garrus sagged, rubbing his eyes.

Shepard eyed the screen and then her friend. "That went… well?"

He nodded. "Better than expected. Wasn't planning on the Imperator being there." He held up a hand. "Ha, not even shaking, that's a first."

She nodded. "The Thanix guy is a big shot, I'm guessing?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "You could say that. Remember on Eingana, the turian who'd been taken over by the Tho'ian there?"

She scowled, turning to leave the room. "Yeah, the one who almost killed you."

He chuckled as he followed. "Yeah. Anyway, the Palavanus family… well, for thousands of years they ruled the turians. It was their leadership that probably kept my race from destroying itself or blasting ourselves back into barbarism like the krogan and drell did. The Palavanus don't rule anymore, but they still have immense power in the Hierarchy's day-to-day operation."

She frowned. "So, like the Lords of Sol, then?"

He waggled a hand as they walked down the corridor towards operations. "Not… exactly. Most of the bigger Clans and Families have a Palavanus adviser. And the Palavanus conduct most of the scientific and medical work in the Hierarchy, assisted by a few Family members – my sister was one of those. But for the most part, the Palavanus deal with the spirit lodges and acting as a second opinion for the Hierarchy. They don't like taking a direct hand in things unless it's dire."

She nodded, thinking. "Based on what he said, they seem to at least take the Reapers seriously."

Garrus pushed open the door to the operations control center. "Yes. Before the mess at Omega, when I was at C-Sec, I heard a lot of rumors about how the Palavanus had spent time and money setting up a reaction force for the Reaper threat – hardening communications, sending out teams to set up sensor arrays, making deals with shipyards and corporations to expand the Fleet's capabilities."

She smiled. "That's one less thing to worry about then, if they're already on board."

Garrus stopped and turned to face her. "They probably were anyway. The Hierarchy couldn't move directly against the Broker, but they loathed the very existence of Tetrimus. It wasn't as bad as the asari with Trellani, but a lot of turians are going to be very impressed you took him out solo."

She snorted, wincing as something in her side flared with pain. "Barely took him out after he was already banged up." She looked to her left as Trudy approached, turning to face her. "Done with the turians, who's up next?"

The former AIS agent pushed back her messy brown hair and grinned. "Salarians. In about three hours. I think Doctor Solus is taking a nap, anyone else you want there?"

Shepard glanced at Garrus. "Is your guy Erash medically okay to sit and talk?"

Garrus nodded. "The docs did what they could with flash-cloned organs for now. He still can't walk, but I figure talking from a lift chair won't strain him too much. I'll let him know to be there."

He walked off, and Shepard turned back to Trudy. "And our ETA to the Citadel?"

Trudy tapped her omni-tool. "We got 'formal' approval to the Widow Relay about an hour ago. Mr. Harper is still putting together the escort, along with security personnel – he plans to engage in some kind of display, I think. If nothing else changes, as soon as we have final medical clearances on the team, we should be on our way by Friday, three days from now."

Shepard smiled. "Good. I'm going to eat some lunch with Grunt. Ping me when it's time to talk to the Salarian Union. When's our call with the asari?"

Trudy cut off her omni. "Tomorrow morning. I figured that would give Liara and… whoever else you want to bring, time to rest and recover from medical. So far, I have Liara, Telanya, Matriarch Aethyta, and Tela Vasir, that still correct?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. It should be… an interesting conversation."

Trudy snorted. "Maybe in the Chinese sense of the word."

O-TWCD-O

Matriarch Aethyta sat alone in the briefing room, sipping morosely on a glass of turian brandy, eyes lidded and cautious. As with every room she'd seen so far in Shepard's base, it was luxurious, with soft pile carpet framed by real hardwood floors. The seat she sat in was cushioned thickly, mounted on a liquid-metal gimbal mount and covered in rich leather.

The brandy Matriarch Trellani had poured into her glass was the Vithis Reserve, over six centuries old. A single bottle went for as much as twenty thousand credits, and three of them lined the small liquor shelf alongside Cambias pris para, some human drinks she didn't recognize, and a bottle of drell dreamwine.

Cerberus has money to blow, I suppose, she thought sourly. Or they're making a statement. She supposed it could be both, but she hated trying to figure out all the angles of a person like Jack Harper, who'd drive a pack of dartfish mad with all the movements he did across political, economic, and cultural spectrums.

She swirled her drink in the glass again, watching the murky silver liquid slosh inside, as Trellani poured herself a drink – one of the human ones – and sat down across from her. A wide window revealing nothing but a blank starfield and tumbling asteroids was directly behind her.

The fact that Trellani had laid a scrambler and a sonic jammer on the table before getting the drinks didn't make Aethyta feel any better about the coming conversation. With a cough, Aethyta found her voice, speaking in a wry tone. "Not that I don't appreciate the drink, but I kinda doubt you wanted to chitchat about something simple."

Trellani inclined her head, her now youthful features disconcerting to Aethyta. "There are things I have long kept secret, in both rage and sorrow." She paused to sip at her drink. "In the… process by which I came to inhabit this body, all of the rathlai bond-shards that had tormented me the past twenty or so cycles have… gone. With them, so has much of my fury, anger, and… bloodthirst, I suppose."

The former Stellarch's voice was musing. "It is possible that somewhere along my path of blood, sorrow, and tears I lost my sanity. It is also possible that the shock of the ritual I employed shifted my personality in some way, although that is even harder to measure. What does matter to me is that I know death races for me now. In a short time – perhaps twenty years, if I am blessed – I will cease."

Aethyta frowned. "Can't you just pull the same trick again?"

Trellani gently shook her head, lips lifting into a wry smile. "No, I cannot. The ritual requires both a vast amount of biotic strength and focus that I no longer possess. Even if I did, there is simply not enough time to breed up a clone from vat-stock that would last more than a double handful of months – and in each transfer I suspect something is lost."

Trellani sipped again. "And thus, with a clearer mind, death racing at me from the waves, and the realization that the situation is changing rapidly, I have a need to share what I know. I have not shared it with the humans – not even Jack, and certainly not Shepard. There is no need to burden others with what I have learned, and even if there was a need, such facts cannot be exposed to those who will no doubt only see the worst."

Aethyta leaned back, feeling the chair mold itself around her. "Uh huh. Look, pardon me if I sound a touch bitchy, but I got a pretty good idea what you found out in the Temple. It's really not news to me."

Trellani gave a full-throated laugh of amusement. "I strongly doubt that, or you'd have most likely turned your blade against the Thirty… or more likely, I would have already had you assassinated. For all your service to the Thirty, your cruelty to the clanless, your racist and frankly imperialistic acts and the sheer ruin both you and your Blades have smote across the galaxy, you are the lesser evil. And there are things your mistresses did not tell you."

The youthful asari interlaced her fingers, eyes narrowing. "As for what I learned, I am not – and was not – truly upset by the revelations of the truth of Athame. For all the sins the Temple – and the Thirty – have committed, what remains of Athame is a better, purer, and altogether mightier being than almost anyone else in the galaxy. Uressa and her predecessors were far more… loving and holy than our race had any right to deserve. I was dismayed to a large level at the truth about the Thirty's ascendance, at their murder of the Prothean bio-coders who had created the Silent Queen."

She exhaled. "But again… I was not entirely unprepared. There had been hints of such things in the archaeological digs I had made, in certain cryptic comments in the Ascendance Texts of Athame and even in the day-to-day dealings of being the Stellarch. There were texts and scrolls I had no access to, discussions I was excluded from, and so forth."

She took another sip of her drink, setting it to one side when she finished. "Some of what I discovered is disconcerting – that the asari were to be the captains of slaves to serve a resurrected Prothean Empire. Some of it was upsetting, such as the fact that the Silent Queen wasn't really an ardat-yakshi at all, but something greater – and that the current ardats were a corruption of what she was, created as tools by the Thirty."

Trellani looked up. "No, what drove me to flee that day, to battle Benezia and run, to realize that all was lost, were the terrible truths and hints at worse things I discovered in the Temple of Athame's 'restricted' section."

Aethyta frowned a bit. "Nezzy told me about that. The old temple ruins below the Temple of Athame. The one the Silent Queen built."

Trellani nodded. "The Thirty had written it off, but kept it off-limits. Much of it was written in Old Velish, a language that fell out of use seven thousand years ago, and almost all of it was ciphered beyond that."

She paused, lost in memory, and shook her head. "I gained access after… various events. The specifics are unimportant." Her voice became bitter. "And what I found was mind-shattering. It wasn't enough that the Thirty had murdered the true Avatar of Athame, and then twisted the history to make it out to be a revolt against a cruel killer. It wasn't enough that the Thirty had murdered the Programmers as well, after figuring out how to manipulate the asari as a racial whole. It wasn't even the realization that the only reason the clanless or clans were created was to breed variant asari less vulnerable to the Athame Beacon's dominance."

Trellani smiled, a cruel smile. "In that restricted section, I found that the Thirty had a 'command' built into the very fabric of the clanless and the clans. That at a whim they could turn the Athame Beacon against us, killing large portions or – if needed – every last non-Thirty asari in range. That they had already done so at several points in ancient history to reinforce their view and false tales. And that they planned to definitely do it en masse at some point in the future, to frame the salarians for some kind of biowarfare, and to pit the turians against them. Billions of clan and clanless dead… for what? Control."

The smile widened. "The sheer scale shattered me, and quickly I realized at that point that once the Thirty had done whatever they needed to do with our poor people, the clanless and most of the clans would simply be… obliterated. They would kick off their little plot and more than likely figure out a way to murder the Athame avatar, or else fully destroy or at least corrupt its ability to control them."

Trellani sighed. "There was more, but I did not have the stomach, much less the time, to puzzle it out – but from what little I gathered, I suspect the Thirty must have known about the Protheans on Ilos and were expecting them to come out at some point. They had prepared for that as well, and actually had the audacity to plan to murder those who shaped us… even if the Protheans were not our creators, we were most certainly their tools."

The former Stellarch leaned back herself. "I'm afraid there's no 'nobility' to the Thirty, no elevation. This plan has no use but to take advantage of those already abused and sidelined. There was no need for this, no moral impetus. Only sickness and the will to breed your own people into test subjects against a threat that never materialized. How many millions have died? At the hands of the Nightwind, at the whim of the Thirty? I could not fathom it. How many billions would die at the whim of self-absorbed bitches like Thana T'Armal, and for what?"

Her voice had risen to a shout, and with a strong and visible effort, Trellani leaned back, her voice cool after a few seconds. "I realized it was up to me to stop this madness, even as my own life was ruined. My family was butchered, my bondmate tortured, my friends mind-ripped and left as bait to lure me out. The Thirty sent entire Royal Hunting Parties to stop me. Benezia tried to stop me. The Justicars tried to stop me. The Broker's best tried to stop me, but I got away. I've been an axe to the neck of the Thirty for years now… and this is why."

Trellani exhaled, bowing her head. "I do not cast myself as some kind of heroine, but compared to the Thirty's plans and actions, even at my worst and most murderous, I was at least trying to stop something more vile. And thus… here we are. I face death and the realization that once I die, no one will be left to stop this insanity."

Aethyta took a deep drink from her brandy. "…That's a lot more fucked up than I was expecting. I didn't know shit about that, and I was on the Council of Matriarchs for a few years."

Trellani shook her head. "This is something only a handful of the Houses know about. Vabo didn't know, and neither did T'Koro, for example. The reasons why eluded me then and now, and do not truly matter."

Aethyta cocked her chair back, folding her hands over her stomach. "Alright, why tell me this?"

Trellani's eyes flashed. "In my current… condition I can no longer be expected to take to the field. Almost all of my biotic strength is gone, and this body can't support the level of bionetic augmentation my real body had."

She gestured to a padd on the table. "I have proofs here of the malfeasance of the Thirty. Of how they schemed to murder Benezia's first mate and drove you away from her to keep both Houses weak. How the trouble your little Black Blade Diersha got into was actually a frame, a clever method to delegitimize you while killing your most talented student. How Thana and others carefully and slowly used their influences and connections to corral and let you fall further and further."

Trellani's smile was cold. "You knew Benezia even better than I – can you imagine why else she would have reached out to a being like Saren, or embraced the cold dread of the Reapers as an answer? She knew, and she knew she was powerless to fix it."

Aethyta tabbed through the padd, jaw tight. "…I wish I was more surprised at this."

Trellani's smile faded. "I suppose you have been exposed to a great deal of such maneuvering in your life. What I want from you is simple. I need someone to retain this information when I am dead, to counter their lies. I need someone who will act, and not hesitate to stop them."

The ex-Stellarch paused, her features intense. "And if they try to do this, I want you to kill several of the Thirty who are instrumental in this insane plan of theirs. Ultimately, I want everyone who knows about this to die. Not today, or even soon. But if we win out against the Reapers in the end, in the chaos that is sure to follow, I want them dead."

Aethyta pursed her lips and finished her drink. "Why me? I'm not exactly a fresh-faced maiden, but asking me to off, what, half a dozen or more Matriarchs and a bunch of war priestesses is beyond even me, you know. There's other people you could share this with that would have a better shot at it."

The other asari gave a delicate, amused laugh. "Thana herself dispatched you to butcher clanless agitators by the score, and I know you were the one who killed Matriarch T'Baela when she looked as if she could oppose Thana's push to power. You were no doubt involved with many security aspects of the Council, and Benezia herself told me you'd been instrumental in designing the kill teams and other defenses of the Temple of Athame after P.'s infiltration."

She finished her own drink. "I know very well that you have scores of your own to settle. I'm merely giving you another reason to do so."

Aethyta sighed. "Maybe I'm fucking tired of killing. Maybe I've seen that I'm a little too old and worn-out – mentally, emotionally, whatever – to be doing this shit. Maybe I want to spend a few last years with the daughters I've excluded out of my life." She leaned forward. "I get why you want them dead. I don't even disagree, this is the kind of stupid shit I warned Thana T'Armal about centuries ago, and it has all the feel of the graa-shit that pack of relli running the Discerning would do."

She huffed. "But going after them isn't going to be easy, and if Vathan is one of the people who know, even all the Black Blades and I combined couldn't bring that nut down. I'd have thought, given how much shit you've already blown up, you'd figure out a way to get them all in one place and drop a kinetic strike or nuke or air-eezo bomb on them."

Trellani leaned back again. "For a long time, as I said, I think my faculties were… clouded. Not just by the revelation of what I had found, or the loss of my bondmate, family, and friends, but by the realization I had devoted my life to serving what could only be called 'evil.' For years I have harried the Thirty, and most of my attacks have been against those I was able to identify who knew about this… travesty."

She rose, walking to the small wet bar and pouring herself another drink. "You and your Black Blades are the only asari group powerful enough to penetrate matriarchal security and deal with the problem. One of the colonies I blew up was an order of the Temple devoted to this project, and with all of them dead, the people who know number less than a dozen. Thana Vathan is one of them, but when it comes time for her death, she has a weakness as well."

She turned back to face Aethyta. "I cannot predict what would happen if this secret was exposed to the other races. I do not wish to gamble the fate of the innocent against that… possibility. Thus, I turn to you."

She sat back down, a wry expression on her face. "And in the rising of the tides we now face, I know full well that I could probably engineer a gathering. I have tried twice before, when I did not have the resources we have now. But frankly, just because I feel 'less crazy' doesn't mean I still don't burn with revenge."

She drank heavily, and then smiled. "I want them, when they die, to know it was me. I want them to die at the hand of their own handpicked tool they used for so long to kill other asari who only wanted the freedom to live. You could call it 'irony,' or you could call it 'absolution.' I do not care. You will no doubt find a way to do it, because you are tired of the killing – and until these people are dead, it will never stop."

Aethyta didn't say anything for several seconds, then sighed. "I'll do it if it comes to that, only because I worry if I say 'no' you'll try to go to Liara or maybe Tela to get it done. I want my family left out of this shit. I know a way to… kill anyone on your list… and you do have a list, I'm guessing?"

Trellani handed the older matriarch an OSD. "Everything you need to know… is on here." She smiled sadly, her purple eyes glinting. "Perhaps the more naked truth is I'm handing this over to you simply because I know I don't have the strength I once did. I can spend this last handful of years trying to find something besides vengeance."

Aethyta stood up. "Yeah, assuming the fucking Reapers don't show up and kill us all. That it?"

Trellani nodded. "For now. Before we head to the Citadel, I do plan to try and… ameliorate some of the mental and bond issues Liara and Shepard will experience, if I can borrow your help and biotic strength in doing so. I don't think it is safe for them to rebond just yet, but I can start the process they would need to get there."

Aethyta tucked the OSD away. "Sounds good. I'm gonna take one of these bottles with me, if you don't mind."

Trellani only smiled again, this one slyly mocking. "I am sure Jack will be delighted that someone else has good taste. I've come to prefer human liquors in the past few years."