Chapter 32: Trust

The wind howls. It always howls. He knows that it isn't real, but the mournful sound is chilling all the same.

Shepard looks out at the endless plains of Rannoch. The swaying grass and reddish stone is coated in a thick layer of ash. Ancient rock formations are smashed by the skeletal remains of massive warships that dot the landscape. He looks up to see a sky filled with bright shooting stars streaking towards the earth… knowing that those 'stars' are the funeral pyres of a thousand ships.

"I know you're there," he says.

Saren laughs, the sound as harsh and grating as always. Footsteps crunch in the ash and gravel behind him until the turian's lean form appears beside him.

When he turns his head to look Shepard feels surprise for the first time. There is a brief moment when he almost doesn't recognize his old adversary. No gaping wound dominates the other man's face but more strikingly the arm that hangs at his side is purely turian. The cybernetic replacement, the wires and tubes that he remembered, were all gone.

"You should know what a turian looks like, Shepard. You've spent enough time with that idiot Vakarian."

"What the hell do you want?" he snaps.

"Rannoch looks more like Palaven than I would have expected. The soil isn't so reddish back home but still… beautiful in its own way. Or it would be if it wasn't covered in a thin film of death."

Saren reaches up and brushes one of the clumps of ash from the air, smearing it between the tips of his talons.

"I thought we were done playing this game after Utukku. You lost."

"Who said we were still playing the same game?"

"I'm through being tormented by illusions and lies," Shepard replies icily. "No matter how many times the Reapers want to make me believe all of this devastation is inevitable… I'm not going to stop fighting."

"That much is obvious," Saren says, snapping his talons against each other. "It's why you're still alive and I... I underestimated you."

He whirls on the turian, voice coming out as a growl.

"Then why the hell are we here?"

Saren's reaction isn't what he expects, instead the turian's mandibles curl in amusement.

"Because they underestimated you as well."

He takes a step back in confusion. None of it made any sense. Dreams he'd become accustom to, the nightmares that had tormented him for countless months. What they had never been was particularly subtle. His confusion only grows as his old nemesis continues to speak.

"I can see it in your eyes, feel it really, Shepard. The will that has confounded. In all their power, there is arrogance. They are perfection given form, but even that perfection has cracks."

"What are you?"

"A memory. A ghost of a memory. The Reapers harvest, they absorb… they are salvation through destruction."

Saren's low chuckle is devoid of any humor.

"My people believe that the spirits of our ancestors watch over hearth and home. Some say they impart wisdom in the darkest hours."

"And you're here to help me now?" Shepard asks, not bothering to restrain his sarcasm.

A bright flash of light catches his eye and causes him to look up over the turian's shoulder. The circular prow of a quarian cruiser parts the clouds of ash in the distance, hurtling towards the planet below. It slams into the earth with a resounding impact and titanic explosion, the vibrations coursing through the ground beneath him in the moments that follow.

"A monster in the void of space that can slay a Reaper. Imagine it. The power of gods. I know you've asked yourself the same question. What could have that kind of power?"

"Leviathan…" Shepard mutters.

The fireball of the fallen ship expands, glowing brighter and brighter as the ground shakes. The blast wave rushes across the open plains, incinerating all in its path.

"You hunt it, but you understand nothing. They hunt as well. Searching the darkness for that which even they fear. Despite their supposedly emotionless souls. You'll find it in the dark and the cold. It hides there, but there is always a link, a thread..."

"I don't have time for cryptic!" he snaps, grabbing Saren's armored collar in his hand and forcing the turian to turn in his direction.

"You don't have time at all, Shepard. They're close now. The cycle has repeated too many times. Eventually all things come to an end. But if you go into the darkness to find that which does not want to be found… will you be the hunter or the hunted?"

Shepard grinds his teeth in frustration.

"Is this another trick, another lie? I don't know if there is really something of you left... the part that wanted to save the galaxy?"

The heat against his skin grows and the winds pick up. He can hear the roar of the blast approaching, but Saren merely looks into the distance for a few long moments before finally turning his attention back to the man in front of him. The armor that covers Saren's body begins to blacken and peel.

Saren's gaze locks with Shepard's as thin cracks spread across the turian's body. At the tips of his talons his form begins to disintegrate into ash. Saren's last words carry as a raspy whisper even as his form disappears in the roaring wind.

"Neither do I."

Ashes slip through Shepard's fingers. The searing wall of fire washes over him.


Shepard jerked awake. It was an all too familiar feeling after seemingly endless months of nightly torment. It was something he had hoped that had been left behind on Utukku. He forced himself to tale slow, measured breaths as he sat in the near darkness.

"What's wrong?" Tali asked sleepily, stirring at his side.

He reached over to run a hand down her back, her pale gray skin illuminated only by the glow of the fish tank. The simply luxury of touch gave him more comfort than it had any right to. It was something he hoped that he'd never take for granted.

"Just dreams."

The silvery slits of her eyes opened a little further, though his caress made them narrow briefly once more. Never one to let him get away with distraction, though, Tali shifted and sat up in the bed next to him.

"Other people 'just' have dreams, John."

"You saying I'm weird?" he asked.

The quarian wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned into his shoulder.

"Maybe a little."

He chuckled quietly.

"My mother always did say I was special."

Feeling his heart rate beginning to slow Shepard shifted until he was leaning back against the headboard, Tali settling in against him with an arm across his stomach.

"Have you heard from her?"

"No, not directly at least," he replied sadly. "Hackett passed on a message that she's alright, currently commanding what's left of the Eighth Fleet near the Kepler Verge. They've been engaging the Reaper's in hit and run attacks since the war began."

"She's a good captain. I know she will be alright. Tell me about the dream," the quarian prompted.

For long moments he sat in the near darkness, trying to collect his thoughts. To her credit Tali didn't push, simply remaining a comforting presence at his side. How to explain what he had seen? It wasn't even something he was certain was real. One of the problems with having memories that weren't your own was that you never knew which were important and which were simply the subconscious running rampant.

"I was standing on Rannoch. When I looked up there were… ships, thousands of ships, burning up in the atmosphere. Wreckage being pulled down by the planet's gravity," Shepard explained at last. "I was watching them fall in the distance, feeling the impact when they struck."

He felt a shiver run through the arm that was pressed against him. To a quarian, the loss of a single ship was a tragedy. The loss of a thousand would have been seen as the herald of their extinction as a species. He forged on, though, knowing that if he asked it would only prompt an assurance that she was fine and for him to continue.

"It could have been any other dream. I've seen something similar hundreds of times before. The Reapers… they're fond of showing me my failures."

"Except you didn't fail. You saved my people and the geth when we would have destroyed each other."

"Reality doesn't matter to them. I don't think they can even comprehend the concept of defeat at this point, to them anything we do is nothing more than delaying the inevitable. Their victory isn't a matter of question, only of time."

"I won't believe that," Tali whispered harshly.

"Neither will I," he promised. "This dream was different, though. Saren was there. He was whole, no cybernetics, no scars. He wasn't even threatening me. He sounded almost… sad."

Her eyes were no longer half-lidded with drowsiness now. They glittered in the reflected light of the fish tank, fixed on him as if studying some strange artifact.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. He even seemed to be trying to warn me of… something. Leviathan. I think he was trying to tell me that the Reapers were hunting it too. Said that I would find it in the dark and the cold."

"Could it really have been him? It's been three years."

Shepard sighed and idly ran his fingers through the quarian's hair, toying with it between his fingers as he pondered.

"Maybe? We saw what the Reapers were doing with the kidnapped colonists and even what they did to Saren. Those cybernetic implants clearly connected him to Sovereign somehow," he replied at last. "It might not be him, really, but maybe it's just what's left of him. A ghost in the machine."

"It could also be a trick," Tali pointed out.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it is, but it just didn't feel the same as all the others. Before there was always a feeling of raw malevolence, hatred. Despite the horrific surroundings this time it just felt… resigned. Sad."

"Then what do we do?"

He looked down at her and smiled.

"What we've always done: keep fighting. I won't let a dream change our plans, but I won't forget it either. We'll be in the Citadel in a few hours. Why don't we get some sleep?"

With now familiar grace, the warmth that was pressed against his side shifted and he found himself with slim quarian straddling his thighs, a predatory smile tugging at her lips as she leaned close and nipped the side of neck.

"I've got a better idea…"


"What's our status, Joker?"

"We just received authorization to dock, Commander. Man, these guys are getting paranoid. You'd think that we were trying to smuggle a Reaper in the cargo hold," the pilot replied.

"They're just being cautious. Reapers aren't the only threat," Shepard said. "Cerberus. Indoctrinated sleepers. Even just plain desperate people."

"You're the freaking Praetor of the System's Alliance now. That basically makes the Normandy like… Alliance One. If you're indoctrinated we're kinda screwed. On the upside they say a wartime president always gets re-elected."

He grimaced at Joker's turn of phrase, a cold shiver running down his spine as he looked out at the assembled ships around them. Two of the massive rachni queen ships hung in space over the Citadel while swarms of cruisers and fighters patrolled just outside the relay. Two Alliance minelayer cruisers were slowly encircling the relay's exit point with disruption mines. It was a very different Citadel than it had been when he had arrived a lifetime ago after Eden Prime.

"I'm not looking to run for office. I didn't even want the one I have."

"Clearly more important things demanding your time."

He cocked an eyebrow at the pilot. Joker coughed and pointedly rubbed at the collar of his uniform. When he apparently showed no comprehension the pilot appeared to be about to elaborate when EDI interrupted.

"Jeff is referring to contusion located on your neck. Diameter of forty six point four millimeters would obviously suggest the contusion was due to Tali'Zorah's-"

"Okay, that's enough science applied to that problem, EDI," Joker cut the AI off quickly. "I… we should definitely go over the… docking protocols."

Shepard left the cockpit at that point, though not before overhearing the brief discussion between pilot and ship.

"Jeff, I do not understand. Did I cause embarrassment?"

"It's complicated EDI."

"But you told me you liked-"

"We are so not having that conversation right now. Or like… ever. When there are other people on the ship. Anywhere. At all."

He decided it was definitely time to be as far away from the cockpit as possible. The rest of the ship was operating smoothly. Traynor updated him on the latest reports from the dozen fronts that existed their seemingly endless war. Palaven and Earth were occupied worlds fighting guerilla actions. Hanar space was rapidly being overrun, while the first Reaper capital ships had reached the Elcor homeworld.

The Reapers didn't appear to have any sense of urgency, even when allied forces managed to strike a blow against their forces. Anderson's last report stated that they had set off a thermobaric charge inside one of the Reaper 'processing centers'. Despite destroying hundreds of husks and nearly a dozen harvesters pursuit had been minimal with no change in their patterns. The harvest continued unabated.

"Rough night?" a flanged voice said behind him.

"I swear I'm going to break every one of Joker's fragile, helpless bones," Shepard sighed and turned to face Garrus.

"Why… oh," the turian replied, mandibles curling amusement. "I actually meant about for the war effort, but I see my comment was well-timed."

"I also swear I will punch you in the gizzard if you say anything else."

Garrus' grin turned into a poorly concealed laugh.

"I'm not saying anything. It's cute, really. Actually turians do something similar. Just didn't realize quarians had the same, ah, customs."

"Gizzard."

"Fine, fine…" his friend relented, gesturing towards the rear of the ship. "I came to tell you that Samara and her daughter are ready to depart. So is Doctor Bryson."

As if on cue the elevator doors opened to reveal the eldar asari and her child. Falere looked far better than she had when she first set foot on the Normandy. The loss of her sister would take time, maybe even years, for the young asari to recover from, but at least there was something akin to hope in her eyes.

"Shepard. Are you certain the Citadel is the best location for my charges?" Samara asked after the perfunctory greeting. "All are powerful biotics and most have not been outside the monastery in over a century."

"I have a contact on the station. An asari matron that will provide them all with a place to stay and far more security than anywhere else they could possibly go. I've already contacted her to make the arrangements and sent her information to your omni-tool."

He stepped aside to let them exit the elevator as he spoke.

"I will defer to your judgment. The others will be up momentarily. The rachni brood warrior Sings-Twilight-Among-Broken-Stars has taken responsibility for their well-being since coming aboard. He is a… strange being, but despite that seems to possess a pure soul and purpose. I should not be surprised that you would find one such among those that we once thought of as monsters."

"Twilight is only one of many. The rachni are the one ally I have in this war that have no other agenda, no politics to get in the way. I can only wonder if things would have been different if peace had been achieved centuries ago," the Spectre said.

"Pleasant dreams do nothing to alter harsh reality," Samara countered. "But I understand the possibilities. Where are the others?"

"Tali somehow convinced Kasumi to help with repairs and upgrades while we're docked," Garrus answered. "EDI will obviously be staying aboard for the same reason."

Samara nodded.

"It is strange. The ship seems much… emptier with so few aboard even though the crew is present as always."

"I know the feeling," Shepard agreed.

A few minutes later the remaining asari arrived, escorted by the enormous rachni warrior just as promised. It was odd to think that a half dozen asari including Falere were likely among the last Ardat Yakshi in existence after the slaughter on Lesuss. Garrus was handing each of them small packages of gear. Supply lines were stretched and even on the Citadel it wouldn't do to have them showing up to Aethyeta's empty handed.

As the women gathered by the airlock Samara approached him once more.

"You have my thanks, Shepard."

He glanced at the assembled asari, all standing close together.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save more of them."

"Only because of your intervention is my daughter or any of those women still alive. It is also why, once I have confirmed that my daughter and the others will both be safe and present no danger to those around then, I would return to your service."

That one he hadn't expected.

"Samara, you're one of the most powerful biotics and dangerous combatants I've ever served with, but your oath to me ended with the death of the Collectors," Shepard explained. "The simple truth of the matter is that I cannot promise to abide by the Code. The actions that I might take or even order before this war ends…"

"I understand, Shepard. Much of my Order has already fallen in battle against the Reapers. Your words on Lesuss gave me pause. I had dedicated my life to the Order to hunt down my daughter, but Morinth is dead. Without purpose the Code is hollow."

The Spectre studied Samara's face, but as always, her serene expression gave nothing away. He crossed his arms and leaned against the bulkhead, nodding for her to continue.

"What are you saying?"

"Even now others have seen what I have seen in you, they place their fates in your hands. Praetor is the title you were given, but your choices have shaped the course of this galaxy long before then. I will swear a new oath. To serve you until such a time as you release me or we fall in battle."

"I don't know how to respond to that," he replied honestly. "What you're talking about is… extreme. You're not agreeing to help me with a mission. You're agreeing to follow me, personally."

"As my oath when we first met. Your choices would be my choices, your morals would be my morals. Either this war will be the final days of our species or it will shape the future for centuries to come. You are the one to lead us down that path."

When Shepard had first set foot on the Normandy SR-1 one such an offer would have been incomprehensible. Even with years of military discipline, such blind obedience was something he couldn't have wrapped his head around. A year ago, back from the dead and working with the very people he had worked so hard to stop before he fell, he would have never understood how someone could follow him.

Now worlds burned. The greatest military force in the galaxy had unified under a shaky alliance to fight for survival and he stood at its head. Every day he woke up wishing for nothing more than the ability to set that burden aside and closed his eyes at night knowing he couldn't. One way or the other he had become more than a soldier.

"Take care of your daughter. But when that's done there will be a place for you here, Samara. If that is how you feel, then I will be honored to accept your oath and your service."

He extended his hand to Samara. The justicar grasped his wrist tightly and nodded.

"I will return as soon as my duty to Falere and the other Ardat-Yakshi is fulfilled."

No other words were apparently needed and Sarama quickly joined her daughter by the airlock. Garrus strode over to him while they all shuffled into the airlock, a quizzical expression on his face.

"What was that?" the turian asked.

"Samara will be joining us on the Normandy again once her daughter and the others are settled with Aethyta."

Garrus grunted.

"Not that I'm complaining about having another set of hands, especially when they're attached to a woman that I think even scared Grunt a little… but is that really a good idea? She was going to kill herself back on that planet because of a two-thousand year old book of rules."

"She's swearing an oath to me personally. Not to fight just this war or this mission, but to me."

The turian gave him a sidelong glance and then clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Then it sounds like she's caught up to the rest of us."


It had been good to see the asari welcomed with open arms by Aethyta and Quin'Sala. The eccentric matriarch had been her usual brusque self, but she and Samara had spoken quietly off to one side and had apparently reached some kind of understanding. Leaving the Justicar behind to help the others settle into their new home they had returned to the Normandy to escort Dr. Bryson to her late father's lab.

"Oh god…" the woman whispered, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I wouldn't have brought you here if it wasn't vitally important," Shepard apologized. "We can give you a minute if you need it."

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. The office was still a mess, though the worst of the debris had been removed. There was no quick and easy way to clean the blood stains, though, not even for the keepers.

"It's… okay. I'm glad you told me when I first came aboard. It gave me time to…" Bryson said, trailing off for a moment. "My father and I had our differences. We argued and fought. It's just so hard thinking that he's gone now."

"I understand the feeling, Doc," Garrus interjected quietly. "My father and I aren't particularly close anymore… but it doesn't change the fact that he's family."

She looked at the turian a little surprised but finally gave him a weary smile.

"I know he'd want me to complete his work. That will have to be enough."

Shepard reached out and touched the doctor's shoulder gently.

"We'll all have time to mourn when this war is over."

"Then let's help you end it," Bryson agreed with a nod.

Two C-Sec agents wearing full combat gear stood guard at the entrance to the lab itself. His eyes flicked across the two men. The armor was new but on both rifles he could see hints of wear on the fire selectors, around the trigger guards. Guns that had definitely been used, even if only at the simulator ranges. It seemed Bailey had kept his promise that he wouldn't be leaving green recruits behind to guard the labs.

"Sir," one of the men said as he stepped aside.

The rest of the lab was as he remembered it; filled with strange artifacts, stacked dataslates, and various other items. Even that disturbing husk head was still sitting on one of the tables. It was one item he wouldn't have been entirely sorry to have seen 'damaged'. For Ann Bryson it was clearly a different experience.

The young scientist moved among the seemingly disorganized stacks, touching various items and pausing at others. She seemed to be in a haze for a few minutes but neither he nor Garrus tried to rush her. Finally she found something under one of the piles that snapped her attention back into the present.

It was a physical book rather than some kind of digital recording, bound in what appeared to be red leather. Flowing script embossed in gold decorated the spine and cover. Worn edges and cracks in the leather suggested great age. When Bryson opened the cover to reveal yellow pages, all filled with similar flowing script, it only served to reinforce the impression.

"A book? Not exactly common anymore," Garrus said.

"This book is nearly a thousand years old," the scientist explained, not looking up as she thumbed through the pages. "The script is ancient asari and even that old it's still just a copy of a copy."

Shepard moved to look over her shoulder.

"A copy of what?"

"The Athame Doctrine."

"Wait, the asari goddess?"

"Not something I expected a soldier to know about, but yes."

"He's got some firsthand asari experience," Garrus added innocently.

He shot his friend a glare but gestured for Bryson to continue.

"Before the Siari religion became the dominant force in asari spirituality, the asari worship of Athame was one of the most powerful forces on their planet. She was credited with bringing civilization to the asari along with her two guides or consorts, Janiri and Lucen."

"Historically interesting, but what does that have to do with your father's research?"

"Everything."

The suddenly revitalized young doctor pushed past him with the book still in hand and went to the central computer. Her fingers flew across the keys but a harsh bleat stopped her progress.

"Who the hell locked out the system?" she demanded.

"Sorry, we'll get that taken care of," Shepard promised and tapped his omni-tool. "EDI, can you please log into the Bryson central server and remove the security protocols?"

"Of course, Shepard."

Code flooded the large display as the ship's resident AI quickly dismantled the countless layers of security protection around the system. It would have taken even expert hackers like Tali or Kasumi hours to work through them… which had been the point.

"We had EDI lock everything down so that anyone attempting the access the data would find it useless," he explained as the AI worked. "Cerberus is clearly hunting Leviathan as well."

The doctor shivered reflexively.

"That man… Kai Leng said that my research would be the key to humanity seizing its 'proper place' in the universe."

"That explosive was brought in by Leng and the rest of Cerberus. He must have found whatever information he wanted," Garrus suggested.

Bryson nodded.

"He… he did. He copied it off of my omni-tool and destroyed it. But the work we did was dangerous. All of us were equipped with subdermal back ups. I guess he didn't have time to search too thoroughly."

"Security protocols disabled, Shepard. I will resume my primary focus on the Normandy's maintenance," EDI interrupted. "I have dedicated four percent of my processing power to monitoring this uplink for any requests, however."

"Thank you, EDI," he said. "Doctor, can you show us this information? If it leads us to Leviathan then it could be the turning point of this war."

"Of course."

Her omni-tool was already active. There was a moment of delay as the system accessed the backup device. The small implanted data receivers were meant to hold small packets of information and give off minimal signatures against common scans. He had one of his own embedded in his clavicle, as every N7 marine did, containing their personal data. A digital dog tag.

An image appeared on the holo projector, fuzzy at first before snapping into clarity. The Spectre looked on in confusion. It looked like a video from an omni-tool recording device. The illumination increased to reveal a massive stone room. It must have been from somewhere in the monastery.

"We went to Lesuss because our investigation revealed that it was actually one of the very first asari off-world colonies," Bryson confirmed. "It was founded by Athame's followers within decades of the asari unlocking their first relay. My father knew that the asari were the oldest space faring race in the galaxy and if anyone knew where this Leviathan might be, it could be the asari."

"Not a bad assumption. When you're looking for information in a case you always start at the beginning, figure out where it all started," Garrus mused.

The scientist nodded in agreement.

"That was our assumption… but it was difficult to track down. For some reason the asari seemed to shift their religious and cultural norms drastically at multiple points in their history. It's almost as if entirely new philosophies overtook their species in various waves. Less than two centuries after the Lesuss monastery was established, Athame's worship had dwindled to a fraction of the population. With their lifespans that would be the equivalent of one dominant religion replacing another in human or turian culture in a matter of twenty or thirty years."

The recording continued to move around the stone room as Bryson and her team investigated. Layers of dust coated the floor and walls, whatever part of the monastery they had been in hadn't been used in countless years. Beneath the dust, though, lay words etched into the stone itself in the same flowing script as the book that sat on the console nearby.

"The Athame Doctrine also seemed to be missing parts, it spoke about Athame and her consorts passing down knowledge to the asari people. Giving them medicine, agriculture, writing… dozens of hallmarks of modern civilization," she continued. "But nothing in the Doctrine explained the origins of asari life. There was no creation myth, no opposition or influence outside Athame herself. There was an afterlife promised but only in the vaguest terms of being 'honored in Athame's grace'."

Shepard shrugged.

"Liara told me once that most religious scholars explained it by saying that as a mono-gendered species her people didn't divide things into the same binary patterns as the other species."

"Maybe not. Many religions don't have a concept of heaven or hell… but virtually every religion I've ever studied attempts to offer at least some explanation as to where we came from, where we're going. But Athame only seemed to be about the here and now, the advancing of asari society," the scientist explained, and pointed to the screen. "It never made sense until we found these."

Pictographs were etched into the stone along with the script. Images of a towering figure directing smaller figures that were clearly asari, icons that the display began to translate as indications of medicine, farming, and the many 'gifts' that Bryson had just been describing.

"The original colonists literally transcribed the entire Doctrine into the walls of the original monastery without change, keeping even the original primitive art style… but there was more here. Passages that we never found in any of the copies like this one, almost as if it had been erased. One of the passages describes another power, a 'dweller in darkness' and a 'cold thought in the wind' that once ruled over all creation before the coming of Athame."

He and Garrus locked gazes. Something told him that the same echo was ringing in his ears as well. 'The darkness must not be breached'. The late Doctor Bryson's last words. The same words that had been repeated to them on the asteroid where they had found the bizarre experiments.

"Is there more?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Bryson replied quickly, tapping at her omni-tool to fast-forward the video. "Many of the inscriptions were faded, the pictographs had lost some of their definition. But not all of them. This one shows Lucen granting the knowledge of medicine to the first true healers in asari history. Look at Lucen."

"Spirits, it can't be…" Garrus muttered.

The scientist paused the image. As she had said it showed a tall figure, not as large as Athame but bigger than the asari that knelt at its feet. In one outstretched hand the figure of Lucen was holding out what Shepard could only assume was the representation of the knowledge of asari medicine. The important feature, though, wasn't what Lucen was providing… but the figure itself and the objects surrounding it.

Lucen was depicted with only two large figures and a thumb, a sloping forehead that became a ridged crest that extended backwards along with two eyes drawn on one side of the image's profile. No nose protruded from the figure's face as it did on the simply drawn asari figures. A year ago he wouldn't have recognized it. Now, though… now he had met one in person. A prothean. And around Lucen's towering form was a field of distinct images, short spires just over twice the height of the worshiping asari. Each one identical to the prothean beacon that he had touched on Eden Prime years ago.

"That's not all. The final chapters of the Doctrine speak of the 'destroyers in the void'. It says that Athame told her followers that only through her teachings could they hope to stand against them. To quote the book directly 'Look upon my works and drink deeply of their visions, for when the stars are yours there will come death from the void. Stand as lights against the darkness or the harvest of stars will be without end'."

Shepard's head snapped to focus on Bryson, the words leaving his mouth without thought.

"Fuck me."

"Ah… eloquently put," Bryson agreed hesitantly.

"Sorry, Doctor… trying to process this. If these ruins are thousands of years old…"

"They are. All the data we retrieved confirms it and until the first sightings of your companion Javik no one had ever seen what a prothean looks like. Even Dr. T'soni's published data on Ilos assumed that the statues there were physical representations of the protheans."

Thoughts ricocheted through his head like a pitched firefight. The asari were the oldest spacefaring species of their cycle with lifespans that could reach a millennium, with a rich culture… and a long, proudly remembered history. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible that the writings of this Athame Doctrine could have been lost to time. But it seemed damned unlikely.

"Shepard, you thinking the same thing I am?" Garrus asked.

Things began to fall into place in his head. Conclusions that he couldn't deny, whether he liked them or not. Confusion crystallized into understanding. And that understanding began to heat his blood like molten steel being poured into a forge. He met the other Spectre's gaze and nodded slowly.

"I'm thinking we need to pay Councilor Tevos a visit."


"C-Commander Shepard! Please wait! The councilor is currently in a meeting-"

"She can re-schedule."

Without slowing, Shepard sidestepped Tevos' assistant and headed towards the door to the Councilor's office. Two asari commandos flanked the entrance. The rapid approach of two armored Spectres caused their eyes to widen and they half-raised the assault rifles in their grip, glancing at one another.

"You can move… or be moved," Garrus said, his casual tone only seeming to emphasize the threat.

A tense moment passed. One of the asari swallowed and clearly steeled herself before speaking, words clipped and controlled.

"We can't let you pass. Even a Spectre can't enter a councilor's office uninvited. We have both been trained biotics since before your species left Earth, Commander."

"It's actually Praetor now…" Garrus replied sharply.

The human Spectre held up a hand and took a single step closer, causing both women to tense.

"I've had long conversations with an asari justicar on subject of biotics. Powers, species, training methods. And there is one interesting fact that came up. For the asari biotics is natural, just another skill mastered through decades and centuries of training," he said, voice eerily calm as he locked eyes with the commando that had spoken. "Humans are different. We don't come by our biotics naturally, it's an aberration. Asari have to learn to strengthen their biotics like a muscle. Humans? We have to learn to control ours like a wild animal straining against its bonds or it will kill us. Or someone else."

Shepard's hands curled into fists at his sides. A faint glow of biotic energy began to hum around his form. His tone became less calm, his words more heated and clipped.

"Grief, fear, anger… the stronger the emotion, the harder it is to control. But that same emotion, when harnessed, can give you strength you didn't know was possible. I am telling you this so that you will have the slightest hint of the rage that is coursing through my body at this instant."

Without moving power surged out from him, yanking the two asari off their feet before they could react and leaving them floating in mid-air. His final sentence emerged as a snarl.

"Now drop your fucking weapons."

After another moment of hesitation, the pair wisely complied. Garrus took the rifles from each of the asari and Shepard unclenched his fists. The biotic power faded and unceremoniously dropped the commandos to the ground. Without a second glance he stepped past them and slammed his fist into the door release.

If the two commandos had appeared surprised when he had approached, Tevos and the other asari that she was speaking with looked positively flabbergasted as Shepard stalked into the room with Garrus right behind. The turian tossed the pair of assault rifles onto the small couch in the foyer of the office before taking up a position next to Shepard.

"Shepard? What in the name of the goddess are you doing?" Tevos demanded, standing up from behind her desk.

He ignored her and addressed the other asari.

"I suggest you leave."

The nameless asari first looked to Tevos and then at the pair of armored men. Apparently deciding that whatever was going on wasn't worth arguing about in this particular moment she nodded quickly to the asari councilor and darted out the door.

"Commander Shepard, I do not know what is going on but this is unacceptable. What are you doing?" Tevos asked again.

"I'm here to have a conversation about protheans, Councilor. About Reapers and lies. A very frank one."

Tevos steepled her fingers in front of her and put on a hesitant smile.

"I don't know what I'm going to be able to tell you that you don't already know, Commander. Our own war efforts have-"

"Enough!"

Shepard punctuated his outburst by slamming one armored fist into Tevos' desk hard enough to send a spiderweb of cracks across the glass surface. His omni-tool appeared on his wrist and with a single command he linked it to every view screen in the room. On each images appeared, all the same: Lucen granting medicine to the asari, the image taken directly from the caverns below the monastery.

It was interesting to watch an asari physically pale as the realization sunk in. Tevos' normally dark blue skin lightened almost an entire shade and for the first time since he'd ever dealt with the Council she appeared at a loss for words. It only served to confirm what Shepard had already known.

"You knew! You always knew the truth!"

"W-We only suspected," she replied, desperately trying to recover some sense of control. "Athame's faith fell out of favor generations ago. We treated it as just another myth. Humans have dozens of religions..."

"A myth? I've never opened the Bible or the Quran and seen a perfect representation of a fifty thousand year old prothean beacon, Councilor!"

Tevos shook her head.

"We just… we couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?" Garrus interjected icly from a few feet behind when the asari trailed off.

"We… the asari and the salarians established the original Citadel Council. One of the very first laws passed was that all prothean technology was required to be turned over for study," she finally answered. "But the Republics reasoned that it should only apply to newly discovered technology. If we turned over the beacon on Thessia it would result in the rapid loss of the asari's technological superiority."

He could hear the incredulity in Garrus' flanged voice when he spoke again.

"You hid a prothean beacon from the rest of the galaxy? For two thousand years?"

"It became a necessity!" Tevos shot back bitterly. "The original decision was made out of practicality but once the turians joined the Council we knew we couldn't reveal its existence! If we did the asari look as if they were violating Council law. The turians were young and aggressive, they would have seized the advantage and easily become the dominant species on the Council!"

"From the moment you received the reports from Eden Prime you had to have recognized that the prothean artifact that was identical to the one on Thessia," Shepard accused.

Tevos turned her hands upward in a helpless gesture.

"We couldn't have known that the Reapers were real! No one had physically touched the beacon in over a thousand years! The few that were recorded to have interacted with it directly went mad!"

"Couldn't… couldn't have known?" he sputtered.

He did his best to control his temper, turning his back on the councilor and pacing towards the other side of the room as she spoke. Shepard could feel his hands shaking even as blood thundered in his ears.

"If I had revealed the beacon's existence after Eden Prime it would only have sowed dissent among the Citadel races when we were already in a crisis. Think of the possible… repercussions!"

He spun on his heel, eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. Tiny arcs of biotic energy snapped out from him like tiny, cracking whips of force.

"The repercussions were that thousands of people died!" Shepard roared. "Soldiers, civilians. Innocent lives… they all might have been saved if we had known the truth!"

"The sacrifices of the brave men and women that have fought the Reapers have not been forgotten, Shepard. But you don't understand the cost-"

"Cost? I don't understand the cost?"

His control slipped for a brief second and felt his left arm spasm reflexively. A wave of raw biotic energy pulsed outwards slammed into the vid-screen against the nearby wall. In a shower of sparks the device cracked and crumpled as if being crushed by an enormous fist. In two strides he closed the distance to Tevos' desk, grabbing the edge tightly enough to send a new wave of cracks across its surface as he leaned across it.

"I ordered the Fifth Fleet into the jaws of the geth armada to save the Destiny Ascension and the rest of your lives! I left Kaidan Alenko to die on Virmire to stop Saren! I have buried friends and loved ones all for the cause of this god damn war! I died you hypocritical blue bitch!" Shepard snarled in a barely coherent rage. "Before this is all ends the decisions I have made will have left the blood of millions on my hands! Do not ever speak to me about the cost!"

For almost a minute there was silence, broken only by the sound of his deep, ragged breaths. Across from him Tevos had backed away as far as she could, trembling against the glass window of her office. Moment by moment he could feel the rage dripping away, replaced by a much colder, calculating anger.

"What do you want to know?" Tevos finally asked, quietly.

"Everything. Every scrap of data, every ancient text, every piece of technology the asari species has ever extracted from prothean technology. I don't care how classified or how secret it is."

She nodded and took a tentative step back towards her desk.

"There will be push back."

The expression on his face was apparently enough to give the councilor pause once more, causing her to cease her approach.

"I am done playing games, Tevos," Shepard replied coldly, intentionally dropping her title from the address. "Any of your people that feel that their politics and secrets are worth dying for, I will oblige them personally. You will send everything you find to the other Councilors and the new Systems Alliance."

He stepped away from Tevos' desk and headed towards the door, pausing to look back and meet the asari's eyes with a hard stare.

"If not, I swear on my life that I will come back to this office and personally correct the mistake I made when I ordered the Fifth Fleet to save the Destiny Ascension."


It was a long twenty minute ride in tense silence. Garrus found his talons digging into the armrest of the aircar as Shepard jerked the vehicle in and out of traffic with violent maneuvers. He had lost none of her precision but his grace left much to be desired. Finally the turian figured he'd given the Spectre long enough.

"Make a stop at Zakera Ward," Garrus requested.

The non-sequitur request had the desired effect, causing Shepard's tightly knitted brow to lose focus as he glanced over.

"What?"

"Zakera Ward. One of five wards in the Citadel? Bailey's old stomping ground?"

"I know what Zakera Ward is, Garrus," Shepard growled. "Why are we stopping there?"

"Need to pick up a few things. We don't have anywhere to be," he pointed out. "Kasumi said before we left that they're swapping out the Normandy's heatsinks. That's at least a six hour job. Maybe five with Tali working on it."

"Fine."

The human clearly couldn't think of a good counter argument and cut the aircar in a hard bank to port. A small part of Garrus was actual amused at the blatant anger in Shepard's every movement. Humans were usually easy to read. A handful like Shepard and Kasumi were much better than most add keeping their emotions under wraps at least when it came to their facial expressions. But if there was one thing Shepard was terrible at concealing it was anger.

It was certainly justified anger. He had felt a similar rage as soon as they had made the connection between the discoveries in the asari temple and what was nothing short of a galactic conspiracy. Unlike his friend, however, Garrus had immediately felt that rage crystallize into something cold and calculating.

In truth he knew he couldn't perfectly understand Shepard's own rage… he had suffered losses under his own command on Omega that would never fade. But they weren't intrinsically linked to the ongoing war. They were memories of failure and anger for lost friends. Shepard's was that of a man who knew now, far too late, that there had been a chance to save those that had died under his command. It was a cruel thing to know.

When the aircar stopped he gave Shepard nod and a gesture indicating five minutes. The Spectre merely grunted and appeared to be doing his best to strangle the life out of the aircar's manual controls.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. A small shop near the end of one of the row on the first level advertising classic firearms for the discerning buyer. He stepped inside and inhaled the familiar scent of gun oil like it was an old friend. The selection on the walls was like a history book of the last few centuries of warfare.

"What can I do for you?" the proprietor asked, a tall turian male in older style combat armor.

"I'm looking for a particular rifle… original model Mantis M-92, standard eight/twelve/twenty four magnification scope," Garrus said. "I heard from a friend of a friend that you might be a man that would have one."

"Mark One M-92? With the pre-Eden Prime heat dispersal?"

Garrus nodded.

"That's the one."

"A real classic… I do have one in fact. I was able to purchase it at C-Sec auction just after the major overhaul."

The other turian clicked his mandibles against the side of his face and tapped at the console in front of him. After a moment he gave the screen a final tap and one of the many panels on the wall shifted, rotating until it revealed the rifle in question. The proprietor took the weapon down and handed it across the counter where it settled into Garrus' grip as naturally as an old lover. He grinned.

"Perfect, I'll take it."

"I… you didn't even ask the price," the other turian said, nonplussed.

"There's a war going on out there. My personal savings aren't high on my list of priorities," he replied wryly. "Do you have any frangible ammo blocks?"

"Of course. But I can't let you take the item out of the shop. All sales must be shipped off station or secured at customs until departure-"

Garrus extended his arm and activated his omni-tool. The glowing display projected his Spectre credentials and linked to the shop's database, immediately verifying his status.

"Consider that particular regulation overridden."

The shopkeeper stared for a long moment in shock before finally speaking.

"You're Vakarian. Garrus Vakarian! You and Shepard… you took down Saren Arterius. Fought on Palaven against the Reapers? Spirits, in my store!"

"That's me," he agreed hesitantly.

It was Garrus' turn to be surprised. He was used to Shepard being recognized but he wasn't expecting anyone to know his name. Sure, it had been on the vids after the Battle of the Citadel and had come up on various news reports after disaster on Utukku. But this was new.

"Here," the other turian said, reaching under the counter and slapping a sealed ammo block on the counter. "Take them both."

"At least let me pay-"

The proprietor shook his head rapidly, mandibles quivering.

"No. I was never a good soldier. I could strip a gun, hit at target, but I never wanted to fight in a war. I mustered out as soon as I could… if I hadn't maybe I'd be back on Palaven fighting those monsters instead of here, safe in this shop. If Garrus Vakarian walks into my store I think its the Spirits telling me everything hasn't been a waste. Take them."

He mentally scrambled. It felt wrong to take a gift just for… existing.

"How about I at least give you… something? Er… an endorsement?"

"I… would be honored," the starstruck turian replied, quickly tapping at his terminal. "Just speak in the direction of the terminal."

Garrus cleared his throat.

"I'm Garrus Vakarian, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel."

He paused until the the shopkeeper nodded.

"It was an honor, sir. I hope the weapon serves you well."

"I know it will," Garrus said.

He moved to leave the shop with his new purchase before stopping with one last thought, directing his question at the proprietor.

"Do you know of any shops that stock a good selection of dextro and levo beer?"


"What in the hell?"

Shepard hadn't be entirely sure what Garrus was looking for on Zakera Ward but he certainly hadn't expected the turian to open the aircar door with a plastic sack of what looked like beer cradled under his arm and a rifle in his grip.

"I said I needed to pick up a few things."

"Is that a 92?" he asked, taking a closer look at the rifle in Garrus' hand. "Where the hell did you find a 92?"

"Bailey pointed me in the direction of a guy," the turian replied. "Switch seats, I'm driving."

"Driving? We should get back to the Normandy."

Garrus shook his head and hooked his thumb in the direction of the passenger seat in a decidedly human gesture.

"So you can brood in the ship, probably pissing off Kasumi, Tali, and EDI when you ask for updates every fifteen minutes? I don't think so. Humor me, Shepard. We need to do something, even if it's just for a few minutes, that doesn't involve fighting Reapers."

"I don't think they've conquered the nearest bar yet," he shot back in frustration, shifting to the other seat as Garrus put his new acquisitions in the back seat.

It wasn't a serious suggestion. He knew that particular brand of self-medication was a waste of time. Not only did it take a krogan-like amount of alcohol to have an effect on him, it never helped anything. Even as much as he would like to forget the universe for just a few hours.

"I had a better idea," Garrus said.

The aircar lifted off smoothly and flew out into the open space above the Zakera Ward. Garrus veered it away from docking bay and then put the car into a steady climb. As frustrated and angry as he was it made Shepard curious.

"Where are we going?"

The turian's response was intentionally coy.

"Somewhere we're not supposed to."

"At least some things never change."

"Exactly. After what just happened… it got me thinking. Everything we've done, practically flying blind. Ever had that one thing you wanted to do before you died?"

Memories flashed through his mind. The exhilaration that overrode the pain in his side when they were standing there in the ruins of the Council chambers, Saren finally dead and Sovereign defeated. Gasping for air that wasn't there, a burning in his lungs. Waking up in Cerberus' facility. Getting his first look at Tali's face and feeling her lips against his. The tightness in his throat as he saluted Mordin and watched the salarian ascend in the lift.

"I don't even know how to answer that anymore, Garrus. Technically I've already died once."

"True, not a fair question for you I guess. But I always had a simple one. Day after day I'd sit in my office at C-Sec and stare up at the top of the Presidium and say 'I want to go up there'. But I never did. There were a hundred and thirty seven regulations telling me I couldn't."

He arched an eyebrow at his companion.

"So what, you got them changed?"

"No, now I just don't give a damn."

Despite himself Shepard felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. The aircar continued to climb until at last they had indeed reached the very top of the Presidium. Below the artificial lakes and gardens stretched out below as if they were atop a towering mountain. Garrus settled the car down and killed the engine, stepping out and grabbing the rifle and bag.

"I figured it was time to do something stupid just for the hell of it. Might be the last chance we ever get," Garrus said as he stepped out of the car.

He looked out at the view and had to admit it was breathtaking. From this height there was no evidence of the Cerberus coup, the war going on outside. It could have been the same Citadel that he'd set foot on over three years ago before the universe had turned upside down. Before he'd become whatever he was now instead of just another soldier.

"Right brand?" the turian asked from beside him.

Shepard glanced over to see a bottle held out in his direction, beaded with condensation. He blinked once in surprise and took the offered drink. Popping the top with a thumb he took a long swig. A cold, citrusy brew.

"Close enough," he replied, letting out a long sigh.

Almost as if on autopilot he followed Garrus' lead and took a seat on the edge of the structure, feet dangling over the thirty story drop below. The both sat in a companionable silence for almost five minutes, nursing their respective drinks, before Garrus broke the silence.

"Calmed down?"

He nodded.

"Yea. A little at least. That what this was about?"

"Ha. Not everything is about you, Shepard. I did want to come up here," the turian shot back with a laugh. "But it seemed like a good time for a diversion. You want to talk about it?"

It actually took some thought to decide. His rant at Tevos had been somewhat cathartic, but as soon as they'd left the Council offices his anger had welled up again like a bitter spring. Finally he simply shrugged.

"What is there to talk about? Three god damn years. We've been fighting for three years and all this time they've been sitting there in silence. So many lost. So many… friends that we could have done… something… anything differently…"

"My father and I have never really gotten along," Garrus said. "But one piece of advice I did keep in mind was an old saying of his. 'Don't question the spear once it's thrown'. Whatever we know now we don't know if it would have changed anything."

He sighed again and downed the rest of the beer in one long gulp. As he spoke his grip tightened until he heard the sound of the glass bottle cracking in his grip. Shepard took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. It was a technique he felt the need to use all too often these days.

"It's a good saying but it just feels… hollow. I can tell myself I couldn't have known, but Mordin is still gone. Kaidan is still gone. Legion. Thane. And thousands of others."

"They're gone, but they're not forgotten. And none of them would be blaming you right now. Be careful that you don't go down the same path you were on before Utukku," Garrus cautioned.

"No… that one will never happen again. The only demons in my head are mine now."

"Good to hear. Now tell them to fuck off. We don't have time to dwell on past mistakes anymore, Boss. Everything we've seen in the last few weeks made that clear."

Another smile threatened to force its way onto Shepard's face as he glanced over at his turian friend. Without noticing it his breathing had slowed. The anger had begun to bleed away. Instead took the bait and rehashed an old argument.

"Pretty sure we've been over this. You're a Spectre now. I'm not the boss anymore."

"Old habits die hard, Shepard. If you hadn't found me when you did? I wouldn't be a Spectre now. I'd have been dead in the Battle of the Citadel or back fighting on Palaven against the Reapers… who knows what else? I took a rocket to the damn face. But I wouldn't trade it."

Shepard leaned over and fished another beer out of the bag, clinking it against Garrus' own bottle.

"I'll drink to that. It's been… one hell of a ride. So much loss. But I don't know where I'd be without the people I've met along the way."

Next to him Garrus chuckled.

"Certain quarian wouldn't have anything to do with that would it? Might know her. Good with tools, painfully optimistic? And of course the hips-"

He thumped the back of his hand against the turian's armored side to cut him off. Shepard's tone was sharp, but he couldn't keep the smirk from his face.

"Watch yourself. I know all about turians and their hip fetish. Keep your talons off my girlfriend."

"It's not a fetish. It's evolution!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Shepard replied, looking over to Garrus as his tone became more somber. "It's not just her, though. You've been there since the beginning. When we met I was just another soldier that only cared about the mission."

He sat the beer bottle down next to him on the ledge and leaned forward, looking out at the Presidium below.

"Get the job done, don't get attached. That was my mantra. I thought I could do it all alone. After Akuze and with the work I did for the Alliance... it taught me that trust got you killed. Now I realize that if I hadn't had someone I could trust, implicitly, I'd have been dead a dozen times by now. And if there's one thing in this universe I can trust it's Garrus Vakarian."

The two shared a look for moment before Garrus gave him a slight nod, his mandibles curling in a smile. Shepard picked up his beer once more and took a swig.

"You're not going to propose marriage now, are you?"

His coughing fit only inspired an equally strong fit of laughter from his turian companion.

"You're a son of a bitch, you know that, Vakarian?"

"Yea, but I'm your son of a bitch," Garrus replied.

The turian got to his feet and offered Shepard a hand up with a clasped wrist. After they were standing Garrus held the grip for a moment longer, meeting his gaze.

"One way or the other this ends with us side by side, Shepard. What you said back on Utukku… before it all went to hell? I never had a brother either. But I'd have been honored to call you as much. Human or not."

Shepard smiled and nodded, returning the tight grip.

"Shepard and Vakarian. To the end."

Garrus raised his bottle.

"Shepard and Vakarian."

They broke the clasp and the turian turned his attention to the rifle that Shepard had forgotten. It was resting against the side of the aircar before Garrus picked it up and seated an ammo block into it. With the flick of a button the weapon unfolded and hummed to life.

"And now… you're going to shoot me?"

"No. We're going to settle something once and for all up here, Shepard. I know that you can handle one of these… but some of us know how to make it dance."

Shepard laughed.

"Some people have seen me in action, Garrus. They were generally pretty impressed."

"Maybe, but I wrote the book on long ranged combat. So let's really see who's the best. It's loaded with frangibles and I've dialed down the power so no worries about taking out a poor civilian when you miss."

"So what's the rules?" he asked.

Garrus reached down, picked up one of the empty bottles, and tossed it to him before pointed upwards.

"Throw, as hard and far out as you can get it. Fire when the bottle reaches the top of the next skyway. A few hundred meters, buffeting winds, with a split second to make the shot. What do you say?"

"I say… are you sure? I wouldn't want to crush your dreams, Garrus," Shepard answered.

"You might be a biotic, cybernetically enhanced super-soldier at this point, Shepard, but if there's one area that I can beat you? This is it."

"Game on."

The turian took the first shot. Giving himself a long wind up Shepard hurled the bottle as far and as fast out as he could. As predicted the winds this high in the ring were strong and the light-weight bottle tumbled sideways in the gusts. Just as it reached the line of the first skyway there was a crack… and the bottle shattered.

"Not bad. Now it's my turn," Shepard said.

Garrus gave as good as he got, a long throw that sent the bottle spinning wildly into space. He pressed the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and exhaled slowly, tracking the tiny glass container. Slowly down and then… squeezed. The round hit perfectly, disintegrating the target.

"Lucky shot," Garrus scoffed.

One after another they continued their contest. Garrus would give the bottle a hard curve, once Shepard even gave his throw a small biotic push. Each time a shot rang out and a bottle disappeared. They would both down a beer and set up for another shot. After ten minutes two bottles remained. Shepard hurled with all his might only to watch as another one popped with a precision shot from Garrus.

"Last one," the turian said, the bottle hooked over one talon. "Should have brought more bottles… hard to prove my superiority with only a few record making shots."

"Do it."

Garrus took a few steps back and really put his entire lanky frame into the throw, sending the bottle tumbling out to be caught by a perfect crosswind that had it swaying back and forth. He eased into the rifle once against and drew a bead. Time slowed down. He realized in that moment that he wasn't angry at all anymore. That for half an hour he had just felt like a normal human being enjoying time with a friend.

The bottle began its downward arc, end over end until it reached the skyway line. Shepard lined up the shot and slowly squeezed the trigger… and then gave a final jerk ever so slightly to the side. A boom rang out across the open sky. The bottle continued to tumble down into the lake below.

"I am Garrus Vakarian and this is now my favorite spot on the Citadel!" the turian crowed.

Shepard lowered the rifle and shook his head.

"Windy up here."

"Uh huh. I think I'm going to take that rifle and get it bronzed, maybe have it mounted right next the krogan statue down there so the whole galaxy knows!"

"That you're king of the bottle shooters?" Shepard asked wryly. "I'll be sure to call you when the bottles revolt."

"Don't be sad about losing, Shepard. I'll try to frame your defeat in a noble manner when I'm telling Tali and Kasumi about this after we get back to the ship."

Shepard settled the rifle on his shoulder and looked at the turian's armored back as he gathered up the few remaining bits of trash and began walking towards the aircar. A smile spread across his face.

"I'll be there to hear it," he replied and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Now let's get back to work."


Reports of my demise are once again exaggerated. Sorry for the extra long delay but hopefully its made up for with a fairly long chapter. Things are moving swiftly now as pieces fall into place and the endgame approaches!