A/N - Sorry it's taken so long to continue this story. Been a little distracted. Thanks for being patient. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Help me shake the rust off.

Chapter 6

Shepard made arrangements to have all their new gear shipped to Liara's apartment. They had planned on leaving their armor and most of their weapons there until it was time to report back to the ship.

The spectre glanced over to her gunnery chief who was starting to act very skittish. She had been fine going through all the armor and ecstatic as they tried every new weapon on the range. Now as they headed for Flux, the spectre felt the hesitation grow in Ashley's every step.

"OK, Chief," the commander chided as she stopped and faced her friend. "Spill it."

"It's nothing," came the defensive response.

Ashley strode past, leaving Shepard in her wake, shaking her head.

As they entered the nightclub, they made their way to the back, to their favorite table. From here they had a full view of the place, including the bar and dance floor. Both those areas had provided them with many hours of entertainment. People watching (and the usual comments that followed,) kept them laughing or gawking. They never ceased to be amazed at what people of all races would do in public when a little music and alcohol were mixed in. Her mind wandered to that one night when the elcor...

Their drinks were brought over with the barest nod, a sign the spectre thought, that they may be frequenting this place a little too often. Shepard sighed, glancing at the empty seat beside hers. Again, maybe a little too regularly, as they had taken their same seats. She desperately felt Liara's absence, the bond they shared very much there, but reduced to somewhat of an echo where the comforting presence could usually be felt. One more day, it shouldn't be so difficult. Her musings ended as she glanced at her friend with concern. The stalwart chief had an almost haunted, frightened look in her eyes. Eyes that darted around the room, searching.

"You gonna let me in on your little secret yet, Ash?" The spectre asked as she downed her drink in one smooth motion, while immediately signaling for a refill.

"I told you, someone's meeting us here," the chief responded, her attention clearly not on the person sitting across from her.

"Yeah, right, just any old person?" Shepard smirked, feeling the warmth spread through her as the drink's effect started to take hold. "Who you have your eye on, Ash?"

The question caught the marine by surprise and as she choked on her drink, her eyes widened when the object of her search stepped through the door. Hesitant at first, the tall violet skinned asari scanned the crowd and a smile lit her face as her eyes found the table in the back. The spectre followed the chief's eyes and her smirk widened to a grin as she waved over the newest member of her science team, if her recommendations were followed. Shiala moved gracefully through the crowd sliding into the seat next to a speechless gunnery chief.

"Completely unacceptable, Councilor!" The admiral raged, barely able to contain his anger. "How could she be so, so.."

"So audacious as to want to continue to search for the Reapers, Admiral?" Anderson cut in, his soft voice a counterpoint to the admiral's rant. "I believe, sir, that is why she was chosen."

The councilor tried to unobtrusively glance at the cron. He had tried to time this audience and was expecting the call to come through at any moment. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this arrogant officer's tirade, no matter what his rank. Anderson wondered for the countless time why he had ever accepted this position. He was no politician, but the role he played had more far reaching influence than he had ever envisioned.

"I want my ship back, Anderson! I ..."

The admiral was interrupted by a loud chirp from the intercom.

"Sir," his assistant's tone was hesitant, but insistent.

"Not now lieutenant," came the curt reply.

"Um, sir, you may want to take this call, sir," the junior officer added quickly.

"I said... " the admiral began in a threatening tone.

"That you will take my call or begin an early retirement," a stern voice cut in.

"Prime Minister, " the admiral croaked as he recognized the voice. "How may I be of service?"

"A bit more respect for our High Councilor would be a start, Admiral." The head of the Systems Alliance chided. "Has the Councilor told you the good news yet?" He added.

"No, sir, we were just talking."

"Please Councilor, after all, your hard work and negotiating skills made this happen."

The admiral winced at the familiarity at which the Prime Minister addressed the man in front of him. The same man whom he had been berating for the past half hour.

"Very well," Anderson spoke up, trying to keep the smug look in his mind off his expression.

"Since the Normandy was developed as a joint project and the ship is to be used as a spectre vessel, the turian Primarch has offered to further that collaboration and lend their engineering and financial support to the refit of the ship."

"And how do we benefit?" The admiral sneered. "I assume they have conditions also."

"Yes, they wish their newest spectre, Garrus Vakarian to continue to be included in the mission. And they assure us they have some new developments that will be very valuable to Commander Shepard."

"Don't you mean Captain Shepard?" The Prime Minister asked, surprised that the councilor would misspeak.

"Sorry, sir, but that rank has not been conferred on our spectre yet." Anderson stated simply.

"Admiral," the Prime Minister commanded, "see that that promotion as well as the others that have been approved are completed immediately and draft our response fondly accepting the Primarch's offer. That is all."

The admiral continued to stare at the comm screen long after the connection had been severed. With his attention diverted, he didn't see the grin that had crept over High Councilor Anderson's features.