HOLOCAUST

CHAPTER TWELVE:

BAD BLOOD

June 8, 2186

1414 hours.

Airlock, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Docked with MSV Warrior's Clasp, In Orbit over Mannovai, Mevaro System, Annos Basin Cluster.

The Reaper War.

Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Flight Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau, EDI, Primarch Adrien Victus, Zaf Ristu of the Protectorate, Ambassador Xeltan, Assistant Zymandis, Ambassador Delanynder of the Primacy, Drell Ambassador Ahosfo Naat, President Weshra T'Ron, Dalatrass Linron, Councilor Donnel Udina.

There was only one thing Marcus could really think of during the moment that he spent standing there, his posture rigid as he waited for the decontamination cycle to finish. Well, two things actually. One was that he now despised his officer's uniform, and two was that he hoped this didn't start another war.

The War Summit had been finally called; and it was to be hosted in the Normandy's Conference Room, which was fair enough, considering Hackett, the defacto military commander of the UGC, had labelled it their flagship and mobile command center, meaning it would be the best place to do it; it had a stealth drive, and it could easily escape an enemy ambush. So here they were.

They were in orbit over Mannovai, one of the first worlds the salarians ever colonized after mastering spaceflight. It looked like a giant jungle planet, like Pragia, just without the perputual rain. It was one hell of a sight from orbit, and one Joker got to enjoy as the pilot sat idlely, as the Normandy would be in orbit of the planet for a bit; the Reapers had made no forrays or attempts to invade salarian space, and left the Annos Basin well enough alone, so they were safe for now. Just as long as the Reapers didn't get wind of the meeting.

The War Summit was alot bigger then any of them could have predicted; what had originally been just the krogan, volus and all four Council races, had turned into a congregation for practical every species in the galaxy except the quarians, geth, yahg, raloi and virtual aliens, the last three of which weren't even spaceflight worthy; and the raloi didn't count. But Marcus could understand why they were present; the drell and hanar were getting worried because they believed indoctrinated agents had compromised Kahje's defense network, the volus and elcor were frightened because the Reapers were pressing on their borders, and the rest were here simply because they were originally meant to be here. Udina had been a surprising pick-up, but yet again, humanity did need a representative.

Hackett hadn't been able to turn up, as they couldn't risk revealing the superweapon's location to the enemy, so he had tried to convince Marcus to stand in humanity's place, but he had refused on the boundary that he was a soldier, and not a politician; he left that to Udina. Nonetheless, Hackett told him to keep the human councilor in check, as his human-centrist agenda could ruin the whole meeting. The spectre agreed, and promised to keep him under watch. And so he did.

And so here they stood; a representative from the hanar, elcor and drell embassies, along with the leaders of the turians, asari, volus, salarians and humanity; and as Udina had said, 'He was now the most powerful human in existence...meaning I'm their last leader.' Somehow, he didn't like the idea of that man being humanity's leader, but Marcus wasn't about to complain; he was doing all the political work for him. Guess I understand why Anderson quit the position.

He shifted again, sighing as he once again had to adjust the collar before it choked him to death. He seemed ready to growl, which would attract alot of looks from the politicians around him, when Joker spoke, voice cheery as ever, "Hey Shepard? The decontamination cycle is done. You want us to let them in?"

Marcus nodded, turning to the decon chamber, still wondering who Wrex would send as a representative. Definitely not Grunt. God, I'd kill to see you two again; my unstoppable krogan band of brothers...or son, in Grunt's case. He grinned at that thought, shaking his head, "Roll out the welcome wagon, Joker."

The pilot gave no response, and Marcus simply watched as the blue interface turned red, and then finally green, the two pieces of bulkhead sliding apart, revealing the occupant inside...or rather, occupants. Apparently, the krogan weren't the only one sending a representative.

His eyes narrowed in a deadly glare, malice filling his eyes as his hand immediately went to his hip, ready to draw his pistol. He gritted his teeth in anger, memories flooding his mind. Torfan. Asteroid X57. Madi'Soi. Every single one pissed him off, filled him with pure rage, and if he hadn't been for the enormous restraint he was placing upon himself at this very moment, he might have ripped the man's throat out.

There stood Balak Uhtero, de facto Regent of what was left of the Batarian Hegemony, and he merely returned Marcus' glare. He was not only a slaver, but a batarian extremist, terrorist and murderer. He had been in charge of the batarian soldiers on Torfan that killed his men, had tried to drop an asteroid on Terra Nova three years ago, and had captured and tortured Kal's girlfriend, Madi, a year ago. He despised the man's very existence, and the last he had seen the disgusting piece of organic life had been on the Citadel, but now here he stood. On his ship. Unarmed.

"Captain Shepard," Balak growled.

Marcus didn't even greet him, but did not draw his pistol, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The piece of shit smiled, and looked around at them, "To attend this War Summit, what else?"

"Get the fuck off my ship," Marcus growled.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"What is the meaning of this?" Weshra spoke, leader of the asari, her face covered in orange tattooes, "You cannot just tell an ambassador to leave! This is a War Summit! He has every right to be here!"

"He is a terrorist, a murderer, and a scumbag," Marcus spat, pointing at the man, "And I will not have him on my ship as anything more than a rotting corpse."

"How primitive of you," Balak retorted, shaking his head, "It seems my assertions of humanity are true; you are mindless animals."

"We'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time we kick your ass. For the third...no, fifth, time," Marcus retorted, "Now get off my ship."

"Shepard," Udina piped up, and he turned to face the man, who straightened his three thousand credit suit, the man's brow furrowed, face looking aged, "No matter our greviances with Balak," Udina stated, and Marcus had a bit more respect for the man when he heard the disgust in his tone that was well hidden, "He is a representative of the batarian people. You said it yourself; we must put aside past alegations and convictions and unite together to fight a common enemy. You may not like Balak, and you may want to rip his throat out, but we need everyone united. Including the batarians, and Balak is their leader."

He could be replaced. Marcus thought of saying, but thought better of it. Giving Balak one final glare, he gave a slow nod, before turning back to Udina, "Very well," but like lightning, he had Balak pinned up against a bulkhead, biotics alight and growling through his teeth, "But if you make just one move or say one word that I don't like, I'll use your blood to repaint the walls. Do you understand me?"

Balak simply glared back at him, and for a second, it looked like he would make some snarky remark and Marcus would have to kill him. Instead, he slackened, let his hands fall to his side and gritted his teeth, "Very well, human."

The spectre released his grip on the batarian and backed away, letting him fall to his feet as he reshaped his uniform, smoothing it out. Marcus nodded to the others, and was about to turn to the airlock when he heard and saw Linron gasp, and before he could turn to fully face what she gasped at it, a raspy voice that he knew and loved came from the airlock.

"Well Shepard," the voice came, a noticable grin recognizable from its comedic tone, "I see you still don't enjoy taking shit from people. The one thing I loved most about you; killing pyjaks."

He turned fully, a large smile on his face, and he saw the crocodilian grin on the krogan extend as well as he stood there, only just looming over him, "Wrex!"

"Shepard!" the krogan moved forward, sweeping him up into a bone-crushing, brotherly hug. Marcus, as always, was left wheezing for breath, but Wrex waved it off, knowing just how strong he was, and slapped him on the back, chortling, "Its good to see you again, Shepard."

"You're the last person I expected to be here," the N7 replied once he had his breath under control, "I expected a krogan ambassador, but not you Wrex! Don't be wrong, its great to see you, but don't you have a clan to run?"

"Yeah," the krogan muttered, "Come to think of it, better not make a habit of these visits. There's only so much trust I can put into that pyjak Wreav. Besides, the Reapers should be enough motivation to keep him in check; that, and my wrath if he doesn't. But hey, I helped you defeat the Shadow Broker, and I'm definitely going to help with these peace talks. About time, too."

"Noone informed me we'd be negoitating with a krogan!" Linron protested, her voice rising in crescendo and irritation.

Wrex turned to her, shaking his head, blood red eyes, always intimidating, locking with hers and causing her to shrink back slightly before he turned back to Marcus, shrugging, "I don't like her already; she seems preachy. Annoying. Like a pyjak. And I crush pyjaks."

"Now now Wrex," Marcus shook his head, "Be a good krogan. I need all these delegates in one piece, including the dalatrass."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Wrex asked, slamming his chest with an armoured fist, "Let's get this War Summit over and done with. We have alot to discuss, do we not? Galactic affairs and what not."

"We solemn agreement: this War Summit is of utmost importance," agreed Xeltan, ambassador for the elcor, the man's hulking, four-legged form hanging in the background, featureless face devoid of the emotion it couldn't show, "With absolute terror: our existence depends on it."

"Then shall we head to the Conference Room?" Victus piped up, and all eyes turned on him. Marcus gave a brief nod of approval, and everyone within the corridor began to shuffle away and towards the conference room on the left.

The security checkpoint, as usual, was a pain in the ass, but they eventually got past it, and everyone filed into the room, and around the table they assembled. By the time everyone was inside, Marcus and Udina were at the end, Victus and Zaf Ristu at the other end, Wrex, Delanyder and Zymandis and Xeltan on the left and Weshra, Balak, Ahosfo and Linron on the right, the void of space observable on the right through the observation room. There was a few shuffles before silence finally descended upon them, and in that time, Marcus got a good look at all of them, examining their features.

Zaf Ristu didn't have any notable features that distinguished him from the other volus he had seen; like all volus, he was short and chubby, no taller than a human four-year-old, and looking obese to any other human was ignorant. They wore a full-body suit, but unlike quarians, they could not leave them no matter the circumstance, as they could only breathe in a methane atmosphere, like that of their homeworld, and any other atmosphere would cause their skin to literally pop and sizzle. Ristu's full body enviro-suit was lined with orange stripes, while the rest was the tell-tale black and white of most volus suits.

Xeltan, like all elcor, was featureless and could not show emotion at all, which meant they had to verbalize what emotion they were feeling, making things quite humorous. They were four-legged, moving around like a sloth, and a large arched back, which was a pale grey in color. Xeltan wore an extravagant green and blue cloth over his back, along with an equally extravagant head covering. Many had called elcor soldiers 'walking tanks,' as they were incredibly strong, but couldn't carry normal weapons, so they carried a single cannon, turret or rotary missile launcher on their back. But Xeltan was a politician, but an oddly well-built one at that.

All hanar really just looked the same, and this was no more prominant than with Dalanyder and his assistant, Zymandis. They all looked like floating jellyfish, with long stands of tentacles coming from beneath their body, and the body itself seeming to glow everytime they spoke, and when they did speak, it seemed as if their voice was echoing with every word within themselves; it was quite enrapturing. Hanar also had face names and soul names; these two's face names were Delanyder and Zymandis, but their soul name was private; only known to them. As for those two, they simply hovered there, nothing unique about them.

The drell ambassador, Ahosfo Naat, was something different entirely. He wore a leather suit, with a gold trim and seemed to have a large cut along his upper lip, giving it a rather disturbing appearence. He had steel-capped boots, and held himself with the same stature and respect that Thane did, showing a common trend among the drell; and while Marcus had been annoyed that the hanar used the drell for little more than assassins and military soldiers, he was glad that the drell at least got representation.

Weshra T'Ron, President of the Asari Republics, was a very interesting person. She was a Matriarch, and it was clear she had been born some time after the Rebellions, so she was well advanced in her age, almost looking like Benezia. But unlike most species in the galaxy, asari did not age physically; they never grew wrinkles, never 'became old,' never lost their sight, memory or motory skills, and never tired; they remained the same as if they were still young; one of the blessings of the asari and their advanced age, and one of their banes. Weshra still looked incredibly attractive, despite being 952, only fifty years from her death bed. Her eyes were a tough green, she leaned over the desk with weariness, gripping it with a steel grip, and seemed to constantly bite her lip.

And then there was Dalatrass Linron, one of many dalatrasi that formed the Salarian Union's government. Salarian government was very unique in that it had a ranking system; there was Secres, who were the lowest ranked and with little power, followed by the Reprats, who were allowed to vote, be elected, and so on. Followed by that were the Lower Netrasi, then the Higher Netrasi, and finally the Dalatrasi. Of the two Dalatrasi leading the Union, Linron was one of them, and their power was absolute; they even had pull with Councilor Valern, who, truth be told, was once a Dalatrass himself.

Linron was a female, and one of the first female salarians he had met that didn't involve him shooting at her. She wore a large robe that covered her entire body, with a large red line down the middle, while the rest of it was predominantly dark blue. She had slim arms wrapped in a black leather, and she wore a hood, which covered the female salarian's lack of crests like the males had, and her mouth was set in a firm line, giving Wrex a watchful eye. He found himself agreeing with Wrex's assessment of the woman. I don't like her already. Reminds me too much of Mordin before I convinced him otherwise. Thoughts of the salarian professor sprang up in his mind, and he smiled momentarily before wiping it off. We miss ya, buddy.

He sighed, leaning against the table audible enough to let the whole room that social time was over, and he was speaking. Every eye in the room turned towards him, and he nodded, beginning to speak as his eyes scanned the room, "As of now, vorcha aside, we now have every single species in this room, as this War Summit intended," shaking his head, "However, it would seem the quarians would not be joining us today. They would be, but for reasons unknown, their Migrant Fleet seems to have completely vanished and is not responding to all attempts to contact it. So for now, the quarians will not be part of this Summit." He was careful not to mention the geth; having a krogan in the room was bad enough, he didn't need to bring up the idea of allying with the geth. They're already distrustful of Wrex anyway. If they won't listen to him, they won't listen to me if I bring up the geth.

"They are most likely all dead. Extinct," Weshra stated, as if knowing all the facts straight up, "The Reapers found them and destroyed their Fleet. Its the logical assumption."

"Knowing galactic communications, something like that wouldn't happen quietly," Marcus deadpanned, "We'd know by now. And if that wasn't enough evidence for you, then I'll tell you that reports from Illium a day ago say that the Migrant Fleet passed by their system and then vanished; that was the last known visual report. They are still out there."

"Pointless arguing about it *ergh* anyway," Ristu added, "The quarians *ergh* wouldn't be able to help us *ergh* even if we *ergh* wanted them to. They're nothing but *ergh* Beggars and *ergh* thieves. Their fleet *ergh* would be destroyed too easily for them to *ergh* be of any use. Best we *ergh* forget about them for now. *ergh*"

Marcus gritted his teeth, but Wrex only seemed to grin, shaking his head at the volus as he turned to him, casually leaning one hand against the desk, "Better watch who you call beggars and thieves around Shepard, little gas-sucker. His wife just happens to be a quarian, and my niece." As he spoke, his voice became a little bit more dangerous, until he was shooting the volus a death glare. The volus fell silent, nodding his consent. Marcus, nodding his thanks to the krogan before disarming the situation before the spectre could rip the bastard's suit open, turned to them, offering his final word on the subject, "So they won't be joining us."

Everyone nodded, Marcus turning to Udina, who began to speak, leaning forward, "The point of this War Summit is to see who will pledge their priorities to the newly formed United Galactic Confederacy or not. So far, the Systems Alliance is spearheading the union, and the Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack and Aria T'Loak's troops are committed to it. However, we all know it isn't enough. Everyone must pitch in; which is why you are here. You are your respective people's leaders, and we ask you what you would do," he waited, and seeing noone speak, he spoke again, "State your terms, and we will comply."

"This one believes that no terms are needed," Delanyder spoke, voice echoing, body glowing ethereally, "This one believes that unification is inevitable. It pledges its people to the UGC, along with its fleets, and armies."

Just like that? Wow, this could be easier than I thought. Marcus mused to himself, inwardly cheering that the UGC was now strengthened by hanar support. The entire hanar military, and Delanyder just gave it away without a second thought.

"Your decision isn't without its merits," Udina complimented, "You made the right choice, Ambassador. Thank you."

"This one hopes it is put to good use," Delanyder declared, "As another gesture of goodwill, we will send our engineers to help with this superweapon you are building. They are not the best the galaxy has to offer, but this one hopes they suffice."

"Send them to the Citadel," Marcus responded, "I'll have Hackett send a few stealth shuttles to pick them up, but we cannot give you the exact coordinates. Our superweapon must remain hidden."

"This one deems this decision fair," Delanyder agreed, "My assistant, Zymandis, agrees."

The hanar assistant himself made no movements of acknowledgement, and Marcus stared at him suspiciously; he hadn't really done anything during the entire meeting, and simply looked blankly at the wall infront of it. Just what is he doing? His investigation of the hanar's odd behaviour was interrupted when Ahosfo spoke up, hands still clasped behind his back.

"The drell pledge their support as well," the ambassador declared, "We cannot do much, but the drell will do all they can for the UGC to put an end to the Reaper menace that threatens all our worlds. The Drell will join the UGC, and all our soldiers and assassins will be yours to command."

"The UGC thanks the drell and hanar of the Kahje Primacy for their added support," Udina stated clearly, nodding to both parties, "You're contribution to the war effort will not be worthless. We also ask that any drell engineers you have, if they exist, be added to the superweapon project."

Marcus merely nodded, showing his approval. So now the humans, hanar and drell are united. But it's not enough. The hanar and drell aren't much on their own; we need the major players. We need the Council races.

All eyes in the room turned on Xeltan, apparently designating him as the one who would speak next. To the elcor's credit, he didn't seem at all surprised at this, and began to speak in the dull monotone that no elcor could help using, "With grim melancholy: the elcor of Dekuuna have deemed the situation desperate. With solemn declaration: the elcor have no choice but to commit our forces to your UGC. This alliance is the only thing that will save Dekuuna."

"So Xeltan, you agree to merge the elcor military, all your fleets and armies, to the UGC armada? And all your available enginers to the superweapon project?" Udina asked to clarify.

"With absolute determination: yes," Xeltan answered simply, and Marcus inwardly cheered. Yes. Now we have the hanar, drell and elcor. The UGC's growing quickly.

"Excellent," all eyes came to land on Balak, "How about you, Regent? Will the Hegemony merge with the UGC? We understand your people were the worst hit."

Balak seemed to sneer at the very idea of having to socialize with a human, but nodded, hands clasping behind his back in a pathetic attempt to achieve one's own dignity, "Unlike the rest of you," the batarian spat, "The batarian people will not join this foolish conglomerate blindly; we do have terms."

"Get in line," Wrex growled back, and the batarian seemed to glare at him momentarily before realizing the futility of trying to intimidate a krogan, and backed off, looking back at Udina and Marcus, who seemed alot more attractive to his eyes now.

Marcus nodded, responding for Udina, "Spit it out, Balak. This War Summit is not a bandy of words, if you have any grudges, I suggest you get them off your chest."

"Its very simple, Shepard," Balak sneered, seeming to smile smugly, "Your head, for our men and ships."

"Excuse me?" Marcus replied almost instantly, fingers digging into the table's surface as everyone now looked at Balak, including Wrex, who's look seemed to have gotten very dangerous all of a sudden.

"Do not think the Hegemony has forgotten what you did to the Bahak System," Balak spat, slamming a fist on the table, "You murdered three hundred thousand of our people, and we demand justice!"

"The Reapers murdered thousands more than I did and are still doing so," he countered, "Yet you don't cry for their heads; admit it Balak, you simply see Bahak as an excuse to finally justify having me dead. I destroyed the Alpha Relay to save the galaxy and buy us time; not my fault your people, and the Council, squandered it."

"I don't care why you did it, and neither do my people. Its your corpse, or no batarians," Balak replied, smug as ever.

"Very well then."

"You'll give us your head?"

"I never said that," the captain replied, giving him a blank look, "It just means the UGC will have to do without you."

Everyone looked at him suddenly with looks of shock, including Wrex, who had looked about ready to throw Balak out an airlock. Balak sputtered, narrowing his eyes further at the man before him.

"You need the Hegemony. The UGC needs us."

The spectre shrugged, "You're a battered people with a battered military and retarded leadership who wastes time trying to get vengeance for something that happened six months before thousands of sentient starships came to try and murder every living being in the galaxy. I don't see what use you'd provide to the UGC. If anything," his voice became a growl as the table groaned from the pressure of being gripped so hard, "You'll join just to survive."

All four of the batarian's eyes seemed to widen instantly, rage entering them as he regarded the human before him, "You dare to suggest that I'll-"

"You'll either do that or fight the Reapers alone, Balak. But do not think I'll stop fighting the Reapers and sacrifice my life to satisfy your pathetic bloodlust," he slammed a fist on the table, causing the regent to wince, "You either start working with us humans cooperatively, or you can get off my ship. You best make the right choice. Which will it be Balak? Would the batarians like to take on the Reapers single-handedly? Finish the job for them?"

The batarian leader was silent for a few moments, and everyone waited on him for an answer. His mouth remained set in a firm line, and as his lips slowly split, showing his sharp canine teeth, he snarled, nodding as he looked away from him, "Fine! Our fleets...and armies, are yours!"

Marcus nodded, "Excellent choice, Balak. See that you haven't made the wrong one." Balak made him no mind and made no response, the batarian resigning to remaining silent for the rest of the Summit meeting; but it did not matter. The UGC now possessed the full might of the Batarian Hegemony, how little left there was of it, and could move forward. And in a few moments, all eyes landed on Zaf Ristu; that is, tried to find him, as he was smaller than the table was high.

The volus spoke with dignity at least, refusing to acknowledge everyone's attempts to look at him, "The Volus Protectorate of *ergh* Irune will not be joining the UGC. Our economic, political and military might lay behind *ergh* the turian hierarchy. Without their military *ergh* support, we are helpless."

Victus nodded, "The volus are bound to us by the Treaty of Irune; the protectorate between us means that the turian empire provides what the volus lack in military, and what we lack in economic wisdom. In return, we gave them a dreadnought of our design and they took it as the flagship of their bombing fleet; they call it the VPS Kwunu. It was recently upgraded with a thanix cannon, coincidentally. But the other part of the agreement was that the volus would only go to war if the turians fought with them or provided support, which means they won't pledge support until we do," the Primarch stated, meeting Marcus' eyes directly. Marcus knew what he meant.

The turians want krogan support before they merge with the UGC, and the volus want turian support before they merge with the UGC. Which means to get the volus, we need to get the krogan respectively. I can't argue with that package. The volus were economical marvels, which meant being in bed with them would get them the resources needed to construct their superweapon. Turian and krogan military support would also bolster their forces expodentially; and they could get it all with just one turian-krogan coalition. This might actually work out.

"Very well," Udina replied solemnly, turning to Weshra. Finally, now to get to the real meat of it. "What say the Asari Republics? You have been rather quiet President T'Ron."

"I have been pondering," Weshra replied, and after what seemed to be a moment of thought, she shook her head, "And I have come to the conclusion that I cannot pledge the Republics to this UGC; it seems like a cause doomed to fail. I mean, a krogan-turian coalition? Impossible. We're talking thousands of years of base-born hatred. Its too farfetched, and what seems more ridiculous is this superweapon of yours; how can we even trust it, and should we? It could be a Cerberus trap," with a final sigh, she stepped away, crossing her arms, "There are just too many variables. No, the asari shall remain on the sidelines with this."

Marcus cursed her inwardly, but did not voice his opinion. The asari are the most advanced species in the galaxy; that, and given they are all natural biotics, and they would have spearheaded the UGC. Goddamn you Weshra! The asari will die if you remain on the sidelines! But it looks like she's not willing to budge, and I can't really judge her when I hardly believe in this superweapon myself. Still, the marginalization of the asari hurt the UGC badly, and they would likely pay for it. Damn them all to hell. I guess I shouldn't worry; Weshra will come crying when the Reapers start pressing on asari borders.

"That's...unfortunate, President T'Ron, but we will respect your decision, nonetheless," Udina stated, not seeming to be troubled by this as he turned to look down the table, seemingly ignoring Linron for the moment as he looked at Victus, "Primarch, what say the Turian Hierarchy? We are all eager to hear these terms you've been discussing with Captain Shepard."

Marcus stiffened and shot a look in Linron's direction as Victus began to speak, watching for her undoubtably drastic reaction, "We have discussed the possibility of full turian support being pledged to the UGC, and in Palaven's current state, I have respectfully declined to merge Hierarchy forces with this alliance," he paused, and continued, "However, we have come to an agreement that the only realistic way we can see the turian military joining the UGC is if the pressure is taken off Palaven."

"And just how do you plan to do this?" Udina asked incredulously, ruffling his short hair, "This is no small feat to achieve."

"That is what Shepard told me, until I informed me just what I required. What Palaven needed," his eyes, in that moment, also turned to Linron, but then turned to Wrex, meeting with the krogan's eyes, "For turian support to be an option, I need the krogan. Urdnot Wrex, we call upon the krogan once more, but this time, we don't request for your support, we beg for it."

To the krogan's credit, he did not rant about how they were also needed in the Rachni Wars, or boasting about how he had a turian Primarch virtually begging him for help, but simply stood there, nodding. When the Primarch was finished, all was silent, and even Linron seemed to stop moving, eyes meeting Marcus' with shock, which quickly turned into distrust and disgust. He looked away, looking at Wrex, who was now looking smugly at Linron, face split in a large, reptilian grin.

"About time. I guess it's my turn?" Wrex asked, and the whole room remained silent, and he took that as consent, "Well, as for the krogan, we demand alot. I'd have brought a list, but I decided ranting about it might make things a bit more interesting," he winked at his spectre friend, who simply rolled his eyes, sighing lightly so none could hear him. Already, he could see Linron's mouth moving. Oh fuck me, here we go.

"The krogan is in no position to make demands!"

Wrex glared at her, his grin gone, and the table creaked as he braced against it, "This krogan has a name. Urdnot Wrex," he snarled, eyes glowing with venom, "And I'm not some junkyard varren you unleash whenever you're in trouble," by the end of his sentence, he was now leaning over the table, with the table dangerously close to snapping off its support from the amount of weight being applied to its frame. He towered over the salarian, but she did not shrink back, merely crossing her arms, but Balak definitely backed away slightly, not wanting to be next to a ticking krogan timebomb.

Marcus tried to defuse the situation. "Wrex...that's enough..." Although I'd rather let you continue...I have a feeling Linron is going to become rather uncooperative very quickly.

The krogan nodded and shrunk back slightly, eyes becoming less full of malice and more diplomatic, Marcus having successfully abated his blood rage. Everyone watched Marcus with awe, much like the salarians had looked at him on Virmire, impressed by his ability to calm a krogan down, especially when on the verge of a blood rage; a nearly necrotic state they enter that pumps them full of adrenaline, makes them almost immune to pain, and immensely powerful. And he had stopped it. To them, he was the first diplomat there was.

Wrex, continuing with more normality in his voice, although he still eyed Linron spitefully, spoke once more, looking around the room, specifically at Victus, "Right now, I've got my own problems," he rubbed at his headcrest, sighing, although with a krogan's voice, it sounded like a growl, and almost every one flinched at it except Marcus, "A Reaper, Destroyer-Class, has just arrived on Tuchanka a day ago; like a precursor force for a much larger Reaper invasion, if the Battle of Arcturus was any indication," he turned to Victus, frowning heavily, "So why should I care if a few turians go extinct?" Marcus saw what Wrex was doing; he had already promised krogan support in the war to Marcus. He was testing the ground; seeing what Victus had to offer. Wrex isn't dumb. He's a great example of the intelligence some krogan can show. Their not all blood-thirsty brutes.

Victus shook his head, remaining calm and stoic despite the krogan before him, "Trying to draw out negoitations will get you nowhere Wrex; we don't have time for it, and Palaven does not have time for it. Just tell us what you want and get it over with."

"A turian willing to talk. I'm beginning to like you," Wrex complimented, throwing a glance at Linron, but making no comment as he turned back around, a smug expression beginning to cover his face. For some reason, Marcus didn't like the look of that grin, "I'll tell you what I need. What the krogan people need." He turned back around, this time meeting Linron's suspicious eyes with his own, the smug glint never leaving his irises. He looked at Marcus, grin widening, and turned back, "A cure to the genophage."

Marcus' eyes widened in an instant, as he was sure was the same for everyone else in the room. In all retrospect he should have seen the prospect coming; the krogan despised the disease placed upon them, and for them to properly wage war, they'd need it eradicated; they'd never replenish their numbers fast enough. But the fact that the krogan clan chief just spouted it out, infront of the turian Primarch and salarian Dalatrass no less, surprised him to no end. I back you, Wrex, but I hope you know what you're doing.

Linron's eyes widened to epic proportions, something he thought he'd never see, even in Mordin's shocked expression, and she took a step back, waving a dismissive hand, "Absolutely not. The genophage is non-negoitable."

Marcus, having had enough of that Dalatrass' crap, even though he had only suffered a minute bit of it, whirled on her with a frown, "Why are you so opposed to this, Dalatrass?"

"What are you, ignorant?" Linron countered, "My people uplifted the krogan! We know them best!"

"You mean you used us!" Wrex replied, waving his own dismissive hand as the venom reentered his eyes, smug grin leaving his face as it contorted in anger, "To fight a war you couldn't win! It wasn't the salarians or the asari or even the turians that stopped the rachni! It was the krogan who turned the tide!" he slammed a fist against his chest in pride, glowering at her from across the table, the rest of the diplomats forgotten.

"And after that you ceased to be useful!" Linron seemed to sneer, "The genophage was the only way to keep your 'urges' in check." Much like Sparatus of old, she used air quotes to punctuate 'urges' like it was some kind of disease, and this only made Wrex's gaze all the more terrifying.

Before Marcus could open his mouth to tear the Dalatrass apart verbally, Victus stepped in, forever the arbiter, and turned to Linron, annoyance in his features, "Dalatrass, you may not like him, but Wrex is right," he motioned to the krogan in their midst, Balak going forgotten, "Insulting him won't change that, and you'll still be wrong in the end."

"I won't apologize for speaking the truth," Linron stubbornly stated, turning back, turning to Udina to appeal to the human councilor, "We uplifted the krogan to do one thing: wage war. It's all they know because it's all we wanted them to know."

Marcus had enough, "In case you hadn't noticed Dalatrass, we are at war right now; one of the most decisive this galaxy has ever had," he pointed out, meeting the salarian's gaze, "If we lose this war, it costs us our existence. We need the krogan."

"That's exactly my point Captain," Linron replied calmly, "The Union made a rash decision; we turned to the krogan in desperation. It's the same mistake you're about to make today if you go through with the krogan's demands. No good can come from curing the genophage."

"Urdnot Wrex is my friend. Not only that, but he's my battle-brother," Marcus growled, "And he, and his people, are not a fucking mistake," he couldn't help but not sneer at the Dalatrass, something she flinched at, having expected someone with cold reasoning, and at any other time he would have responded in kind, but this was a friend of his they were talking about, and he did pity the krogan. Out of all the species in the galaxy, the krogan and the quarians get most of the unnecessary hate. They are the strongest, and they will be what saves the galaxy, "The krogan have paid enough for their mistake. The genophage has gone on long enough."

Wrex nodded, turning back to glare at Linron once more, "One thousand, four hundred and seventy-six years, if you're keeping count." He seemed to only say this to Linron, his hatred focused solely on the salarian female, and he couldn't blame him.

"It was a thousand years of peace! Safe from these...brutes," she spat, disgusted by the word.

The sound of biotics whirled in the air, and his fist contacted the table's surface, denting its polished surface and causing everyone in the room to jolt from the sound, including Linron, all except Wrex, who simply looked at the perpetrator; a very infuriated Marcus standing at the table, fist wrapped in biotic blue as it lay on the table, denting it heavily.

He practically growled his irritation, "Enough is enough, Dalatrass; I won't listen to anymore of your twattle, and I won't stand here and watch my friend be insulted when he helped save your worthless ass three years ago. Remember the Battle of the Citadel? You know, the first case of a fucking Reaper invading the galaxy?" he shook his head, "That was the Council's fault mostly, but I won't go on pedantics; the genophage will be cured, and I don't give a damn if you like it or not."

To his surprise, Victus nodded agreement, "You're absolutely right, Captain. The genophage needs to end, and while I don't exactly pity the krogan, I will support it if it saves Palaven and in the bigger picture, the galaxy," his voice took on a solemn tone soon after however, "However, it would take years to formulate one; years we simply don't have. Palaven and all its people will be dead by then."

Wrex let another smug smirk cross his face and Marcus frowned at him as the krogan looked at Victus, "My information says otherwise. May I?" The question at the end was directed at him, and he saw the krogan pointing to the console at the end where Victus stood. Marcus gave a slow nod, not knowing what the battlemaster was up to. Seeing his action was approved, Wrex moved forward, waiting patiently for Victus and Ristu to move, before typing into the console there, activating a holo projector on the paned glass behind them, speaking as he did, "A salarian scientist, Maelon Heplorn, grew a conscience. He was on my planet, testing a cure on our females."

Marcus nodded, remembering the horrible things he had seen in the Clan Weyrloc base, "I remember. His methods were barbaric."

Images began to appear on the screen as Wrex uploaded video feeds from his omni-tool, turning to face it as he spoke, "But what you didn't know, is that other females survived his experiments." The krogan moved out of the way, and presented before them was a still image of what looked to be a containment facility, lines of thick bulletproof glass showing tubes filled with what looked to be numerous live, and well, krogan females, along standing behind the glass, looking down at the photographer inquisitively. Another few images were shown, some zooming in, others taken looking from other directions.

As the images flashed across the screen, Wrex continued speaking, elaborating his story, "So the Dalatrass sent in a team to clean up the whole mess," he seemed to growl, but noone was noticing at this point, "And to take them prisoner!" The images made sense now. The sterile clean walls...this was a containment facility these females were in, and there was only one place the Dalatrass would have them taken to...an STG Base.

Linron seemed to struggle for words, "Where did you get this?" Her demand turned into a stuttery excuse of cover-up, "It...It could be a fabrication!"

"Don't insult my intelligence any further than you already have, salarian!" Wrex shouted, shoving a finger in her direction, before pointing back at the images that were still flickering past. It left Marcus wondering just who had taken those photos, "Those are my people! They are immune to the genophage, and you're going to give them back!"

Immune? Wait, so does that mean...? Holy shit. Marcus was lost for words, and barely acknowledged Victus' words as he arrived at Wrex's side, shooting the salarian a disapproving glare, "Dalatrass...is this true?"

To her credit, she didn't even bother admitting it, and cut straight to the chase, turning to face Marcus, "How will the genophage benefit my people? Has anyone in this room considered that while you've all ridden the moral high horse, as you humans like to say? What of the salarian people? So far, you've all presented your terms, but none have listened to what the Salarian Union wants."

Fighting fire with fire, he faced the Dalatrass, slapping a hand against the desk in anger, "How long do you think you'll last alone against the Reapers? Because if the Union doesn't help, or anyone of you, for that matter," he eyed the volus specifically, "Then that's how it'll end up."

Victus pitched in his own support, "And I'll be the last friendly turian you ever see."

Linron seemed to finally consider this a moment, looking down at the desk, deep in thought. After what took sometime, the salarian let out a long-winded sigh, as if recovering from a long jog, and stood up, nodding with resignation, but refusing to meet either of their eyes, "The females are being held in one of our STG Bases on Sur'Kesh. More specifically, at Alpha Site, the STG Headquarters."

Marcus nodded, and met Wrex's gaze instantly, giving a sharp nod as he made to leave the room, preparing to inform EDI of their new destination, although she had probably already heard. Just before he could leave the glass enclosure of the conference room however, Linron spoke again, voice rising in pitch as he came to a stop, "But I warn you Captain! The consequences of this will be felt for centuries to come! They'll-"

He turned, and practically snarled at her, doing what Wrex had restrained himself from doing, "Dalatrass, shut your fucking mouth. Because I'm done listening," he looked up, "EDI."

"Already set a course Captain," the AI informed him, "ETA is one hour and thirty minutes."

Linron gasped, shaking her head, "You're not setting foot on Sur'Kesh! This will take time and-"

Victus this time responded for the spectre, "It happens now. Shepard is a Council Spectre," he nodded to the N7 in question, "As an agent of the Council, he can facilitate the exchange, and act on their authority."

"Fine," Linron hushed, turning away to look out the window, "But I won't forget this, Captain. A bully has few friends when he needs them most."

"If that'll be all, you can now get the hell off my ship," Marcus spat, and quickly left, turning to Wrex as he did, "I guess you'll be hanging around?"

The krogan grinned, "Until the genophage is cured, at least. It'll be just like old times, eh?"

"Liara's back, as is Garrus. Joker's the pilot, Chakwas is the doctor and Adams is chief engineer again. So yeah, I guess it's as close to old times as it'll ever be," he smiled, slapping the krogan's back as they waited for the security checkpoint to let them pass, "Welcome back to the crew Wrex."

"It's good to be back," the krogan returned in full.

Marcus had a feeling everything would be alright.

If only you were here, Tali. We're going to make history. We're going to cure the genophage.

{Loading...}

June 8, 2186

1600 hours.

Harbinger, In Orbit over Palaven, Trebia System, Apien Crest Cluster.

The Reaper War, Apien Crest Campaign: Battle of Palaven.

Harbinger.

As one, they watched; one nation, one vessel, millions of souls. They observed the burning planet below them, its every artificial resource being reduced to glass in their genocidal campaign of absolute extermination; every last organic being rounded up and either transformed into a husk, or being saved for the creation of a new Reaper. Their extermination was planned out and methodical; done in the space of seconds and enacted as they assaulted. They were unstoppable, and to organics, unfathomable. They were the sum of everything they could not comprehend, their work beyond their understanding.

They were Harbinger, the first Reaper, the leader of the Reapers, and born from the very species that gave birth to them; the very first organic species to exist, and they had extinguished it. They had been the apex race; the height of organic ascendance, and even they had not prevailed, yet these primitives continued to resist? It would only cost them dearly, and their efforts would be for nothing.

But as Harbinger hovered over Palaven, watching its brethren tackle the turian ships in orbit over Menae and wreaking havok on the surface of the planet below them, the first Reaper came to a simple thought, one that the trillions of souls that made up the Reaper consensus stood still to contemplate. They all formed around one name; Shepard.

Reapers did not feel fear. They did not offer mercy. They were emotionless, flawless in their devotion to the Galactic Harvest, to stopping chaos utterly and completely, and producing salvation to the organics that did not want it. However, they knew how to analyze a threat; many cycles had provided their own, a champion to unite them in the 'darkness', to give them hope for victory; they had all, so far, been harvested, but Shepard was different.

Shepard had killed four of their own, before the invasion had begun.

Shepard was a skilled diplomat, and he knew how to deconstruct a hostile on the battlefield. Time and time again, he had thwarted Reaper victory. Harbinger fully believed and knew Reaper victory was an inevitability; it was a matter of certainty, but that did not mean Shepard was beginning to become a serious threat. For the first time in the billions of years that the cycle had been going, the Reapers were uncertain.

Could Shepard actually have a chance at stopping them?

So as Harbinger connected with the entire Reaper armada, a mighty 422,389 ships, he began imputting new orders and commands; stopping Shepard was now a top priority. The Reapers understood that the human found strength in his squadmates, and killing them would weaken his resolve; they were now targets as well. The Reapers had, despite their best efforts, been unable to find the Migrant Fleet Sovereign had reported having existed, but considering quarian status in this cycle, they were not deemed a threat, and largely ignored; they would be dealt with later; for now, Harbinger wanted them focused on what the organics called the 'Council races'; asari, turians, salarians and humans. So far, Earth had fallen to them, and Palaven was within their grasp. He had elected to let the asari believe they were strong for now, and it was unwilling to commit forces to Sur'Kesh just yet. Vanguard had landed on Tuchanka to begin raids, and Oblivion had recently finished decimating the human colony on Theseus II, and had moved on to launching probing attacks against the volus and elcor homeworlds, successfully destroying the defenses around Irune. Harbinger had given Oblivion the forces needed, and they had launched their attack on Irune; it would fall in no time.

But now, even as Harbinger turned from the planet and made best speed for the relay, a small fleet was forming behind him, a hundred strong; a scouting party by their standards. The rest would stay and continue to attack Palaven while Harbinger took a hundred and attacked deep into the Terminus Systems. To any others, it would be an odd invasion, way out of established Reaper territory. But if their indoctrinated agents in the Alliance were correct, one of Shepard's companions, the asari, had a father, and to destroy Shepard, they had to lure him out. With cold Reaper calculation, they knew that if the asari's father was put in danger, Shepard would react aggressively and come to Illium; with him lured out, Harbinger would be able to finally destroy Shepard.

It was the perfect plan.

And it would not fail.

And so, the Reaper party departed the Trebia System, a new destination imputted.

Illium.

{Loading...}

June 8, 2186

1437 hours.

Shuttle Bay, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In FTL Inbound for Sur'Kesh, Pranas System, Annos Basin Cluster.

The Reaper War.

Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Flight Lieutenant Steve Cortez.

The elevator gave a ding as the doors slid open, omitting Marcus entrance into the Shuttle Bay as he stepped out and into the light. He had changed into his normal clothes, his N7 cap along with it, and jumper. The ambassadors had elected to stay onboard until the mission on Sur'Kesh was over, wanting to see if they were successful in their mission. Linron for different reasons, Victus because the Normandy was now his mobile HQ, and the others simply because they could. Although Zymandis had spent a long time interrogating him, which had given him an odd feeling in terms of the hanar assistant. He seemed very...pokey.

But with basically forty minutes until they reached Sur'Kesh, he wanted to at least do some rounds, and he decided he'd spend them with the two people he had barely spoken to at all; Cortez and Traynor. So here he found himself, walking towards Cortez's console, a little bit of happiness in his step. He gave a brief nod to Wrex, who was now situated behind some crates near where Keeling was located, the krogan when asked where he'd like to be, 'It's like old times isn't it? So its the old spot' and there he was, polishing his hefty claymore shotgun with a bayonet attachment. The krogan grinned, and Marcus found himself grinning in turn, before turning back to Cortez...

...only to stop in his tracks as he heard a sniffle, and the grin dropped from his face. Cortez himself stood at his usual console in the armoury, hunched over a console as he seemed to be listening to something at a low setting; and as he got closer, he heard a male voice speaking from the console, and the second thing he noticed was the sounds of more sniffles; the sound of Cortez silently sobbing.

As much as Marcus was trying to ignore what was being said, largely out of respect for the man's privacy, he couldn't help the last snippet of it, "-love you."

He could hear the sound of Cortez replying, to his shock, on the console, "What? No, I'm coming to get you. Just hold on. I'll-"

"No, Steve," the man replied, sounding sorrowful, "The whole colony is surrounded; you'll never get through, and they'll just take you too. Run. Hide. Leave me."

"What!? No, Robert! I'm not leaving-"

"I love you Steve, but I know you," the man named Robert replied, "Don't make me an anchor. Promise me Steve!"

The recording stopped, and he heard another silent sob, gone unnoticed within the bay, and as he drew closer, he saw a tear streak from the man's face to land on his chest, soaking into the uniform. The recording had stopped, and he seemed to be going to play it again when Marcus decided enough was enough. How can he torment himself like that? Whoever that man was, he sounds like he mattered alot to Cortez to have a recording of him. And to be torturing himself by playing it...He reached out a hand and landed it on Cortez's shoulder, squeezing it. Cortez seemed to jump from the contact, turning around, and Marcus got a full view of the man's teary eyes and dried, wet cheeks; he had been at this for a while, apparently. His eyes widened at the captain's presence though, and he hurriedly minimized the recording, snapping a salute, "C-c-captain! I'm sorry, I-" he sniffled, shaking his head, dropping his hand, "Sir, I can explain-"

He held up a hand, shaking his head, "No need to explain anything Cortez; everyone deserves a break once and while. But I am curious," he pointed to the console, "I...heard...the recording you were listening to. Who was that? Sounded like you cared alot for him...and that he cared for you back."

"He..." he sighed, turning back to the console as he braced over it, wiping his cheeks, "It's nothing, I should get back to work."

"Cortez, those who know me know that I won't leave until they let me solve their social problems," he crossed his arms, accentuating his point.

The man nodded solemnly, not even turning to him as he began in a mutter, slowly beginning to speak louder, "It was a recording from Ferris Fields. It...it was during the Collector abduction of the colony, just over a year ago now. I lost alot of friends that day. I..." he turned to Marcus, suddenly apprehensive, and he seemed hesitant at what to say but, finally, he closed his eyes, and got it out, as if to get it over with, and deal with the humiliation afterwards, "I lost my...my husband."

Marcus would be lying if he wasn't inwardly surprised by that. Okay then, I can understand his apprehension; even in the 22nd Century, the world isn't very accepting of his...sexual preference. I can't say I'm not one of those. But just because I disagree with it, doesn't mean I hate homosexuals themselves. From what I've seen, Cortez is a good man, and I'm not going to order him to get off my ship just because he's something I disagree with.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Cortez continued, "I grieved. Said my goodbyes. Made my peace..." he sighed, "It was never enough. These recordings are all I have left of him."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Marcus sympathsized, letting his hand fall from the man's shoulder, "You must have cared alot about him."

"He was afraid I wouldn't let go," the pilot stated, laughing mirthlessly, "But for him, I moved on...or at least I deluded myself into thinking I had. Watching these recordings over and over...it just shows I never truly did. That I'll forever be living in the past."

"Its worth hanging on to," Marcus stated, and when he saw Cortez's incredulous look, he shook his head, "When it comes down to it, when the last thing of the person you love is a recording of their last moments, do you take it, or not? I'd do it. Just to hear their voice again. It reminds of you of what they were like when they were alive, even if it meant they died immediately afterwards."

"You make a good point, but I don't know if the price is worth all the torment," Cortez replied, sighing as he rubbed his eyes, Marcus moving to the other side of the console to face him fully, "It just feels like I'm needlessly stabbing myself."

"In times like these, everyone needs a good stab or too. Pain reminds us we're alive, which is what Robert wanted for you, by the sounds of it," Marcus stated sternly, "Don't let it go to waste. Move on. And when he says move on, he means...well, if you find someone else..."

Cortez looked at him in shock for a few seconds before nodding, "Yeah...you're right. But I don't know. It doesn't seem right to just abandon Robert and start courting another man. I mean...it just feels like a betrayal."

"You can talk to Kasumi about that. You may not know it, but Garrus and her are a thing. And before that, she was on a vengeful quest to save the last remnants of her dead boyfriend," he slapped the man on the shoulder, "Kasumi moved on, use her as an example. I'm not saying you should move on immediately, but the option is there. If Robert truly cared, he'd say the same."

"I...you're right. Robert was right. I'll have to make it official at some point," he sighed. After a few moments, he looked up, a blind hope in his eyes as he met Marcus', "But if that were the case, and I decided to be with someone else...I...well..."

"What is it, Cortez?" For some reason, he didn't like where this was going, or the lustful and hopeful look the pilot was giving him.

"Forget it. Its definitely very insubordinate."

"Cortez," he warned, "I'm a very loose captain when it comes to regulation. Spit it out."

"Would you be interested?"

"What?"

"Would you be interested...well..." he pointed between them, "In us?"

It took a full second for him to comprehend what the man was implying and he almost gagged on his non-existent drink/food. He gulped, trying to clear his blocked airways that had somehow become blocked (probably from his shock) and he shook his head, coughing. Cortez suddenly became worried, and moved to grab the man's shoulders, but Marcus shook his head, finally containing himself.

"No no no no," Marcus replied, "I think you misunderstand Cortez."

"What?" the pilot responded, looking deflated and confused, "What do you mean I misunderstand?"

"Do you see this line on my forehead?" he stated, pointing to the faded black line on his forehead that he was careful to never wash too much and now it seemed to stick like a permanent tattoo, "Didn't you ever wonder why I had that?"

"I just assumed it was something you did," he stated, scratching the back of his head, "But how is this relevant?"

"That line, for quarians, is a sign of bondage. It shows that they have been claimed by another and are united in matrimony," he gave Cortez a sad look, although it was more for the pilot's sake, "Cortez, suffice to say, I'm married. Ever heard of Tali'Zorah nar Rayya?"

Cortez looked disheartened, but piped up in interest at who exactly had stolen the man's heart, "Yes, indeed I have."

"She's my wife," Marcus responded, "I love her very much, and I miss her right now so much that its almost killing me. This line on my forehead shows that I'm married to her in the quarian fashion," he then lifted his hand to show the ring on his index finger, "And this shows I'm married to her in human fashion. Besides, Cortez," he added in a joking tone, hoping Cortez wouldn't take offense, "I don't swing that way."

To his immense luck, Cortez seemed to faintly smile, nodding, "I...I understand, I guess. Not the answer I wanted, but...yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing as he stood back up, nodding, "Thanks captain, I needed that."

"You're more than welcome Cortez," he seemed about to leave, but suddenly stopped, turning back to face the pilot, "Wait, have you had time to bury Robert yet?"

The pilot stopped as he seemed about ready to return to work, and looked at him, shaking his head as his blue eyes met Marcus', "No, I haven't. I let my grief consume me, and in the end, I just focused on my work. Getting shuttle duty to the Normandy was really helpful. But now that I'm doing nothing...the memories just come rushing back."

"We'll be at Sur'Kesh soon," Marcus assured him, coming to stand by the console again, arms crossed, "After that, we'll see if we need to head to the Citadel. If we do, and once we dock, you can go to the Refugee Camp; I've heard they've added a memorial wall for you to add flowers and mourn dead loved ones. That sounds like the best place to start, don't you think?"

"I..." he began to speak, tripping up over his words, "I don't know if I can do that, Shepard."

"I'm not going to order you Cortez; its your personal dilemma. Only you can resolve it," the spectre stated, "Just know that you can. I know it'll be hard, but you need to put Robert to rest; move on like you promised him. I need you at your best Flight Lieutenant, and a man with regrets is a man who's dangerous." He hadn't meant to be so blunt with the last bit, but he needed Cortez to know that. Even one second of hesitation could mean our deaths if we need extraction. I can't have him hesitating like that.

The pilot took in an intake of breath, and slowly let it out, nodding as he did, "Yeah, you're right, Captain. You're right. I'll...first thing, as soon as we land, that's where I'll head. I...I think might purchase...s-some flowers first."

Marcus gave the man a firm nod and with that Cortez turned, heading over to the parked kodiak in the bay, all of a sudden wielding a welding torch, "Well, I better get to doing some maintenance on the shuttle. I think it took a few hits during our last mission on Eden Prime. Could cause problems on Sur'Kesh, not that I'm expecting a fight or anything."

"That's okay Cortez," Marcus replied simply, smiling, "I'm not either." But as he walked towards the elevator, something in his brain clicked.

So why do I feel like something bad is going to happen?

{Loading...}

June 8, 2186

1443 hours.

The Shepards' Quarters, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In FTL Inbound for Sur'Kesh, Pranas System, Annos Basin Cluster.

The Reaper War.

Captain Marcus Lee Shepard.

"EDI, how far out are we from Sur'Kesh?"

"We will be entering the Pranas System in twelve minutes, Captain," the AI responded, "It will take a further five to reach Sur'Kesh itself."

Seventeen minutes then. Better get the team ready then. And this time, I'm going in full. We won't need them, but considering how fast shit has gone south in the past, I'm not taking any chances. Hopefully this'll remain as a simple pick-up. "Copy that, EDI. Inform all team members including Wrex; get to the armoury and tell them to grab their gear; I want the full team for this one, and no doubt Wrex will want to be there. Tell them I'll be down in five."

The AI's response was curt and to the point, "Very well, Captain."

With that, silence shot through the cabin and once more, and with a final look at his terminal, he sighed, standing up as he began to strip, heading into the shower cubicle. As he did, he mused at the empty terminal he left on; the extranet search query left waiting, but not sent. It was a search for news reports on the Migrant Fleet, but all it had come up with was numerous details on the Fleet, a Codex entry, and how many quarians lived on it and then it collapsed into bullshit, racism and anti-quarian propaganda, before eventually ending in the same sort of entries, except for Geth. But what he wanted was the latest news on it; where was the Quarian Flotilla, especially when the galaxy needed them?

I refuse to acknowledge that the Reapers destroyed them already. They weren't anywhere near the Attican Traverse when they first hit; they were way up in the Terminus. So where are they? Why haven't they approached the Council, or me yet? Tali, where the hell are you? By the time these thoughts had algomated, he was standing infront of the bathroom sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror. All that remained was his pants, and he just stood and looked at the numerous scars covering his torso, and at the steely face in the glass; no, not steely...

...sad.

"...I'll be back for you. And Earth. I'll bring every fleet I can..."

Marcus would never forget leaving Anderson behind on Earth, but a part of him knew that the admiral was still down there, fighting the good fight, delaying the Reapers until Marcus could assemble the forces, complete the superweapon, and destroy the enemy. Marcus just wished it was easier. You'd think with the galaxy falling apart, everyone would leap at the idea of an alliance. Instead I'm racing to Sur'Kesh to help cure the genophage, so that an alliance can be possible. Everyone needs something. But as he leaned against the sink, he knew deep down he'd have cured the genophage regardless; the krogan deserved it. They've suffered long enough, and the tactical advantages of krogan that can constantly breed more troops would be ideal if this war becomes more than a year long.

He was going to cure the genophage. With the help of the very people who birthed it. They weren't just writing history, they were writing it with the ink of irony.

With a final, long-winded sigh, he tore off his pants, stepped below the shower and turned it on full bore, letting the searing hot water touch and fall over his skin. At first it bit and stung, but he quickly acclimated to it, and found himself moving stray bits of beard and hair that slopped all over the place, whilst raising his face directly into the spray, drinking in and then spitting out the boiled water. It was heaven, and seemed to relax his tired muscles. He did this before every mission if he could help it, and it did wonders for his tired body.

Bracing one hand against the wall, he momentarily smiled, and turned to the door, mouth moving before his brain caught up, "Hey Tali! Come join m-" then his brain caught up, and the smile fell, body turning and blowing out an even louder sigh. God, was his cabin quiet these days. No laughter, no moans...not even the sound of talking. Just him, and occassionally EDI when he gave orders or Samantha when he came to fix a technical problem on his terminal. He was lonely as hell, and it always never ceased to eat at him. There were times where he wanted to sob in fear for his potentially dead wife, but he never allowed himself that comfort; to sob now would be to acknowledge defeat, and he'd rather die than do that.

The water got colder faster than he thought it would, and he realized he had been standing in there for a good four minutes. Turning off the spray, he stepped out, grabbing a nearby towel and drying himself off. Quickly wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out, moving over to his locker and grabbing his undersuit; the skin-tight suit he wore under his suit so as to make using it seemless. After putting it on, making sure it was tight, he moved to leave, but as he reached the top step of the second section of his cabin, he heard a knock on the door.

He frowned, coming to a stop as he blankly looked at the door for a second. He wondered just who would be up here. Noone comes up to my cabin; they just request to speak to me. Even Garrus waits until I'm in the Mess Hall to speak to me. EDI could just contact me through the PA, and Samantha usually requests permission to stand on this very deck, let alone the cabin. So just who is waiting outside? Please don't tell me its Linron.

"Enter," he shouted, voice hesitant as he made the last step, moving over to stand on the corner seperating his bathroom from the rest of the deck.

The door shot open, and he watched the form of a hanar, of all things, come into view. He couldn't exactly differentiate between them, so he had no idea whether it was Delanyder or Zymandis who he was talking to, but he quickly found out as he spoke, "And you are?"

"This one's name is Zymandis," the hanar responded, "This one was present at the War Summit."

Marcus nodded slowly, crossing his arms, "Okay, nice to meet you in person, Zymandis. Did you need something? We'll be arriving at Sur'Kesh soon, and I need to get ready." It was only then that he noticed a glint of metal, followed by shifting plastic on the hanar's other side. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but his visual query was quickly answered when he suddenly found a carnifex pistol aiming at his head, pink, transparent slime that could only be hanar blood dripping from it.

"This one will not allow you to cure the genophage," Zymandis spoke, "The Enkindlers believe it to be sin, and punishes sin."

Marcus' eyes widened, and he held up his hands, trying to find out just why the hanar would be doing this. Cerberus doesn't hire aliens, and certainly not a hanar...they'd just send Kai Leng, so...wait, that only leaves indoctrination. Shit, Zymandis must be indoctrinated. Its the only way to explain it. I thought he looked suspicious.

"How did you get that weapon past security?" Marcus pondered, "The Conference Room has a security field, which acts a metal detector."

"This one was gifted with jamming signals," the hanar drolly replied, "It scrambled the scanning of the field, allowing this one access. As for the weapon itself, it was hidden in this one's stomach. Hanar do not require mouths, so one only requires a tentacle to enter my body, and retrieve it." The gun did not shift in the hanar's grip, and Marcus looked down, seeing it gripped by one, strong tentacle, seemingly hovering in place as the hanar looked at him. The hanar's explanation made sense; they were incredibly easy to kill because their bodies were like jelly; you could put your hand right through, like they were transparent.

"Okay then, very smart," Marcus stated, gulping, "But why do you think the Enkindlers would want this? The Reapers destroyed your gods. You should be fighting them, not me. Avenge your Enkindlers." It was common knowledge that the hanar worshipped the protheans, or 'Enkindlers,' as they called them, as gods, and part of that religion was the, now delusional, belief that they created the Citadel and Mass Relays, when it is now clear the Reapers did.

"The Reapers turned the Enkindlers into the ones you know as the Collectors. They were ascended to a higher form, given new life, and they became gods. The Reapers gave them new meaning. Without that meaning, we would be lost," the hanar preached, actually believing its crap, "The Enkindlers became the Collectors, and the Collectors served the Reapers. Therefore, we must serve the Reapers."

If there's stupidity of a higher form than this, than I haven't witnessed it. Even the Council's logic made more sense than this. Despite the situation, Marcus couldn't help the words coming from his mouth, "You...You big. Stupid. Jellyfish!"

Seemingly angered by this, the hanar prepared to press the trigger when Marcus reacted first, biotics flashing and his hand swipping the hanar's tentacle away. The hand cannon remained in Zymandis' grip however, and Marcus launched another biotic attack, slamming the hanar assistant against the wall with major force. The weapon discarded, Marcus moved to pick it up, but was stopped when he heard the booming voice of evil enter his hearing.

"Shepard!" Harbinger boomed, "We will end this!"

Just as Marcus turned to the hanar, who had been the source of the voice, he suddenly found two tentacles wrapping around his neck and beginning to constrict, causing him to grab onto them in surprise. He coughed and gasped, his lungs begging for air as the hanar began to relieve him of it. He continued to try and pry the damn thing off, but it seemed to have gained unnatural strength from Harbinger's possession, and was now pushing him down against his desk, slowly choking him to death. But Marcus didn't give in, even when he felt the edges of his vision beginning to fade.

As his head bumped against the desk, he saw, out of the corner of his blackening vision, he saw the glass of his models case. Suddenly, an idea clicked into his head, and he was snapping into action.

His left arm rapidly shot up, and he braced himself for the coming pain as his wildly flaying arm slammed into the glass, shattering into tiny glass fragments with a boom. He could felt his body and Zymandis showered in glass, bits of it cutting into his arms, but leaving his chest alone, largely due to the undersuit. Ignoring the pain, he let his left arm fall and began blindly searching for a large piece of glass. Finding it, he found his purchase on it, gripping it hard, and sent his arm flying back, this time sending it into an uppercut.

He heard a bellowing screech and an alienated strangled cry as the constriction on his throat relieved itself. He coughed and swallowed, suddenly regretting it as he coughed back up what he had swallowed, feeling something cold and sticky on his face. Opening his eyes, he found his face coated in pink liquid; hanar blood. The screeching continued as he stood up, quickly falling to the ground as his lack of oxygen made him numb all over. He cried out as his hand landed on a tiny shard of glass, impaling it on the shard as he landed. Wincing, he tore the thing out, thanking God that the wound wasn't that deep, placing pressure on it with his other hand to stop the blood flow. Remembering his predicament, he quickly turned, ready for battle.

He needn't have bothered. Zymandis was on the ground, pink blood spewing from its body as it danced on the ground, tentacles flying as it screamed its agony. As Harbinger departed its servant, its last words seemed to echo through his mind, as they always did with the Reaper leader, "This isn't over, Shepard. Continue to fight, but know you will lose. The cycle cannot be stopped." And then the Reaper's presence was gone, and there was just Marcus and the hanar.

The door shot open again, and Marcus found himself preparing for any backup; maybe Delanyder was indoctrinated too. Instead, he watched Garrus rush in, fully armoured and mattock heavy rifle in hand, Wrex and Liara at his sides, both holding a claymore shotgun and Tempest SMG respectively, both of the latter glowing with biotic intent. But as Zymandis came into view, they ceased and lowered their weapons, eyes landing on Marcus' form.

"I knew we shouldn't have bothered," Wrex muttered, holstering his shotgun, "Any pyjak dumb enough to attack Shepard will die too quickly."

"We had a quarian try something like this before, and he almost succeeded. Best not to take chances," Garrus returned, but holstered his rifle nonetheless as he came to kneel before the dying hanar, pink blood now flowing across the cabin floor. He turned to Liara, "Go grab a towel, clean this up."

The asari nodded, rushing over to grab the towel Marcus had hung up below, giving Marcus a quick once over before doing so, alleviating any concern she had, holstering her SMG as she did.

Wrex moved to Marcus, grinning, looking at the bloodied hand Marcus was holding, "You cut yourself?" he looked at the glass littering the floor from the case, also noticing the few models that had either exploded outwards from Marcus hitting it and hitting the sofa, or simply falling onto his desk, "Good thing you have regeneration, then. And I know you at least have that."

"Yes, thanks Wrex. I do remember," the spectre deadpanned, shaking his head, "And I'm okay, thanks for asking."

"You'll get over it," the krogan grumbled, turning to Garrus, who was turning the now dead Zymandis over, "Get anything from the pyjak?"

"What, you mean this?" the turian waved the shard of glass in the air, shaking his head, tossing it to the ground as he stood up, lightly kicking the dead hanar's body, "Yeah, sure. Apart from that though, all we've got is a dead hanar. What exactly happened? EDI told us the hanar assistant attacked you."

"He was indoctrinated," the N7 explained, walking over and kneeling over the hanar's body himself, seeing it was now completely lifeless, "Reapers must have ordered him to try and assassinate me. Harbinger possessed him, and he pulled a pistol; smuggled in by hiding it inside his own body. He was choking me to death, so the only way to kill him I could find was to break the glass, grab a shard, and stab him with it. Guess it worked."

"Thanks spirit for that. It'd be embarassing for you if the one thing that finally killed you was a lucky hanar assistant," Garrus quipped, but suddenly his grin dropped, realizing something, "Wait, if Zymandis was indoctrinated, then what about-"

Just as Liara arrived and began to mop up Zymandis' blood, Chakwas' voice came over the comm, sounding grim, "Shepard, we have a problem in the Crew's Quarters. You better get down here immediately."

Marcus' eyes and Garrus' met in an instant, and they practically dove into the elevator, hitting the button for the Crew Deck almost spastically. They wanted for a bit until it finally arrived, both shooting out, Marcus' bleeding hand almost completely ignored as they burst into the quarters. What they found caused them to stop, and for Marcus to loudly curse to himself as he saw who Chakwas was kneeling over.

It was Delanyder. His pink blood seeped through the bunks and leaked over the floor, and some of it looked dried; meaning he had been dead for at least a few minutes. His body was just as cold as Zymandis' cadaver, with the usualy perputual glow now gone, three of his tentacles lying on the ground, having been cut off. Chakwas shook her head sorrowfully at him, and Marcus quickly left the room, backing into a wall as he slid to the ground, taking slow deep breaths. He simply eyed the closed door, unbelieving. The hanar ambassador had been murdered, and his murderer now lay dead in the Captain's Quarters.

The door opened again, Chakwas stepping outside and coming to stand over him, taking her gloves off, "He was already dead when I arrived, Captain. I was coming to talk with Adams; we had planned to have dinner together. I clocked off early, and when I went to prep the table, that's what I found in the corner. The blood was still fresh, so he had only been killed a minute before I arrived. I don't know who was behind it, however."

"Zymandis," he answered for her, and before she could ask how he knew that, he shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly, "How do I know? He now lies dead in my cabin, having tried to do the same thing to me. He was indoctrinated, had a pistol, and basically waltzed right onto my ship. An indoctrinated agent of Harbinger. Now we have one dead ambassador, and no testimony."

"We have yours," Chakwas bluntly replied. But before she could ask any further, she saw his bleeding hand, his pulse causing it to bubble out incessantly, and she was next to him in seconds, applying medi-gel to the wound, "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Seemed like the least of our worries," Marcus drolly replied. The doctor scowled at him, but before she could give him a verbal lashing, EDI's voice spoke over the PA, directed at him.

"We are now in system, Captain," the AI declared, "ETA to Sur'Kesh is five minutes."

"Copy that. Tell Garrus, Wrex and Liara to meet me in the Shuttle Bay," he ordered, moving to stand as the medi-gel began to set in, "I'll be down in a moment to collect my gear."

Chakwas immediately tried to force him back down, but he ignored her objections as he began to head for the elevator. She shouted out from behind him, "Just where do you think you're going? You need to rest."

"From a cut in the hand? Please Chakwas, I'm not even a doctor, and I know bullshit. I'll walk it off," he turned to her just before entering the elevator, Garrus quickly reappearing to join him, "I need to be down there on Sur'Kesh to keep Wrex calm if the salarians piss him off, and to see the female krogan escorted safely offworld."

"'Escorted safely?' You're going to STG HQ. Noone will attack you there except STG, and they have no reason to do so," she growled, hands on her hips, "What trouble are you expecting?"

He grinned slightly, despite the situation, as he always managed to do, "I drag danger behind me like an incessant virus, Chakwas. Explosions and gunshots are my forte, remember? I can practically smell something about to happen; that's why I'm bringing the full squad. Nonetheless, we should be back soon, if I'm wrong."

"See Chakwas?" Garrus responded, a smirk on his mandibles, "He can learn. He has embraced the inner-psycho inside of him. Now he's got a Mako to embrace it with too."

"You get in the elevator, dino," Marcus hissed, mostly out of mirth as he followed behind him, "Chakwas is scolding me enough. Don't need you fueling it."

And then the elevator door closed, and they descended to the armoury and to head down to the salarian homeworld. And if all things went alright, they'd be out fine, dead hanar ambassador and assassin alike, not counting.

That's if, which isn't likely by Marcus' luck, a few explosions weren't involved.

"So now you went down to Sur'Kesh?"

- Reia'Inas pav Earth.

"Yes. We went down there to recover the female krogan, bring her offworld, and then begin formulating a cure with some of the Union's top scientists. That was the plan anyway. Of course, I was right. Explosions were to follow."

- Marcus Shepard.

"What happened down there on the salarian homeworld?"

- Reia'Inas pav Earth.

"Peace, then noise. I'll elaborate..."

- Marcus Shepard.

A/N:

You guessed it: Priority: Sur'Kesh is up next in Chapter 13: Hope in the Darkness. Like most of my story-based campaign mission chapters, it'll probably get unintentionally and ridiculously long, so I'd be prepared just in case. And considering the amount of chance encounters with past characters, and new ones, it'll be even longer. I'll try and make it as short as possible.

In response Myron22: Never! I will write when the inspiration comes to me; and I just happen to be one caffeine right now, which means my writing will be very flippant, full of life and continous; which is good for the audience, because that means faster, incoming chapters. And for some reason, since I like doing main story mission chapters, I'll probably be ripping straight into Sur'Kesh tomorrow morning, and then continue the rest of the day; again, that's if inspiration isn't lacking. Which it won't be...hopefully.

Until then...

Keelah Se'lai, troopers!