A/N: Right, I'm going to start working on another ME fic besides this, based on the "N7 teams" introduced in multiplayer. I can start writing with my own characters, but if anyone wants theirs included, I'll gladly do that, details forthcoming.

Rayven Nightshade: Thanks, all I had when I wrote that was a mental image of Wrex throwing a husk off Tower Bridge (probably means nothing if you're not a Brit, I admit...) :P

"Vakarian."

"Admiral."

Just an hour after their conversation across the galaxy, Garrus and Admiral Hackett were face to face, meeting for the first time since that fateful order to war had been given. Garrus had often considered that Hackett would make a good turian. Committed, incredibly skilled, and with a natural ability to inspire which he had only seen in two other humans – Anderson, and Shepard himself.

"The other leaders are assembling," Hackett muttered. "Time to figure out just what in the hell we do with the galaxy now..."

"The thought occurs, Admiral, that this is the closest we've got to a Council right now."

"I don't know, Vakarian, they're war leaders, not politicians."

"Human culture's the only one that differentiates between the two. Well, maybe the salarians too, I guess... But look at the turian Primarchs, or the asari matriarchs. Politics and combat prowess go hand in hand, maybe that's how it should be for you too."

"What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is, like it or not, you're humanity's leader. The salarians are doing the same – the military and STG are taking power from the dalatrasses as we speak. The human parliament's gone, so is your prime minister, your councillor" – both of them scowled at the memory of Udina – "and Anderson... That just leaves you, and Shepard, and we both know Shepard hates politics."

"That's what makes him so damn good at it," Hackett grunted. "Same as Anderson – the first mark of brilliance is the absence of ambition. No greed or pride to get in the way, just straight-talking and loyalty."

"Well, the two of you can argue it out over who gets the job later," Garrus murmured. "For now, let's focus on getting everybody back home..."

With that, the two of them nodded to one another, and stepped through the doorway beside them. They emerged into the cavernous operations room, a great hall in the very heart of the Destiny Ascension. Set in the centre was a huge round table, similar to one in the Normandy's War Room, and more than a dozen figures were crowded around it, making for an incredibly strange gathering.

The most prominent figure, as Garrus took his place at the table alongside Hackett, was Urdnot Wrex, huge and fearsome as always, and looking as if he'd only just left the battlefield – one of the asari matriarchs, stood next to him, was glancing with a mixture of awe and disgust at his blood-stained armour. Moving clockwise around the table from Wrex, there were the aforementioned asari matriarchs, three of them in all, then two salarians – both military, not dalatrasses, judging by their armour – one of them a leader, the other a right-hand man. Next to them was a serene-looking drell, presumably representing Kahje – the hanar weren't too great at mingling with other species, it had to be said... After the drell, it was Hackett, and Garrus, and beside them were two of the quarian admirals Garrus recognised, Shala'Raan and Zaal'Koris, stood side-by-side with a geth trooper. The other two admirals, like Tali, were absent, perhaps attending to the Migrant Fleet (or whatever it was called now – the 'Migrant' part didn't really apply any more). Beyond them was Primarch Victus, representing Palaven by himself, and then the last representative, a hulking elcor. Left unrepresented were the volus and batarians. Garrus knew the volus would be represented by the turians, but he could make no such excuse for the batarians. From what Hackett had said, there simply wasn't anyone left to represent them...

"Well..." Hackett muttered, breaking the silence that had hung over the table. "It's hard to know what to say..."

"We won," Wrex grunted. "That's the first thing to say."

"We haven't won yet, Wrex," Primarch Victus interjected. "Without the Crucible, we wiped out the Reaper fleet, but their ground troops are still fighting... Earth's almost won, but Palaven, Thessia... they still need to be liberated."

"It's not such a daunting prospect," one of the matriarchs murmured. "According to what we know about the husks, without Reaper control, they should have only animal intelligence. They may even turn on each other. If that's true, they're no longer an army, just an infestation."

"It does beg the question, though," the salarian leader interjected, "why wasn't the Crucible used? Admiral?"

All eyes turned to Hackett, except Primarch Victus and Wrex, who shot knowing glances at Garrus – evidently, the two of them knew he was there to represent the Normandy, and were hoping he had something more to tell them...

"I can't answer that," Hackett scowled. "Not yet – because I don't know myself. All I know is, Shepard staggered out of that place telling us to destroy it."

"Enquiringly, according to who?" the elcor rumbled.

"According to me," Garrus replied, matter-of-factly, taking a step forward. Quite suddenly, he felt all eyes turn unnervingly to him. "I was the one who pulled Shepard off the Presidium. He was shot to hell, but he kept insisting we pass on the message to Hackett, said it was a Reaper trap, said we should destroy it..."

"He might have been delirious," the salarian objected. "Or indoctrinated! Why did we trust the word of one ma-"

"Shut it, salarian," came a deep growl. Garrus was taken aback – he'd been about to interject himself, but it seemed Wrex had done it for him. The salarian looked taken aback, indignant, even.

"Excuse me?" he replied. "It's a valid question."

"No, it's not," the krogan muttered, glaring at him. "Any krogan or turian knows it's not" – Garrus and Victus both looked at him in surprise at that comment – "you put him in charge, you have to live with his decision. End of story."

There was a rather awkward silence, as the salarian glared at Wrex, Wrex glared at the salarian, and everyone else looked warily between the two.

"We can discuss this later, once Shepard's here to explain," Hackett said, finally. "But we're not doing this behind his back while he's dying in the med bay."

"Dying?" the salarian murmured, with surprise. Wrex too looked concerned, and it occurred to Garrus for the first time that the other leaders might not have been briefed on Shepard's condition.

"Critical," Garrus nodded, then added, to Wrex and the asari, "so is Dr T'Soni."

"I... well, in that case," stammered the salarian leader. "This discussion can wait. There still remains the matter of refugees, though..."

"Right," Primarch Victus agreed, apparently grateful for the change of topic. "We've all got wounded – they need to be offloaded before we even think about waging a ground war on Palaven."

"Palaven?" one of the asari interrupted, looking rather suspicious. "Thessia needs the help most."

"We'll have to disagree on that, I'm afraid..." the turian leader sighed. "Palaven has been in the fight longest, after Earth, that is."

"Exactly, which means there's less of it left to save. Thessia was only hit recently..."

"But Thessia has a better chance of holding out. Palaven's defences are crippled already, and the population's sparse. If we go to help Thessia, Palaven could be utterly defeated by the time we reach it. Thessia, on the other hand, has a population of natural biotics – now the Reaper fleet's down, handling the husks should be trivial for you."

"Enough!" Hackett said, rather firmly. "We were discussing the refugees?"

"Of course, Admiral," Victus nodded. "If we had worlds to offer, we would, but I'm afraid the hierarchy will have to rely on someone else's charity for the time being..."

"Well you're all welcome to a bit of Tuchanka," Wrex grinned. "If you think you can handle it."

"Oh, we can handle it, Wrex," Garrus chuckled, finding a rare bit of mirth amongst the rather grim discussion. "But I don't think thresher maws and varren are too helpful when you're trying to heal the wounded..."

"Suit yourself," the krogan grunted.

"We would offer Sur'Kesh," the salarian commander volunteered. "But it's not our place to do so. And even if we could persuade Dalatrass Linron to open the planet up, it's overcrowded already. Refugee camps would not stay sustainable for long."

"The same is true of Kahje," the drell nodded, sadly. "The small landmass is barely sufficient to sustain our population, let alone others..."

"Admiral," Garrus muttered, as a solution came to mind, "I know it's not really my place to bargain for humanity..."

"Speak freely, Vakarian," the Admiral nodded. "You're representing Shepard on this one."

"Well, two worlds do come to mind. Human worlds..."

"Oh?"

"Horizon, and Eden Prime. They were both occupied by Cerberus, which means they both escaped any major Reaper assault. Plus, the Collector and geth attacks mean there's a lot of space for temporary colonies."

"A rather morbid benefit," Hackett mused. "But a fair one. I can't promise Horizon, not after what happened at Sanctuary, but I can open up Eden Prime."

"We won't even need to commit troops to defending the camps," Garrus added. "Shepard already rallied a militia to fight Cerberus, I daresay they'd agree to defending the wounded for us."

"Well, that's part of the problem sorted... Eden Prime can host wounded humans and asari. The krogan, salarians, hanar and drell are all provided for on their homeworlds..."

"That just leaves us and the volus," Primarch Victus interjected. "Dextro-amino acids, remember?"

"I hadn't forgotten," Hackett muttered, wearily.

"We could shelter on Eden Prime," the Primarch continued, "but shipping enough food there to support all our refugees would be almost impossible... We need a dextro world."

"We'll do it," volunteered a filtered voice, immediately. All eyes turned to Zaal'Koris, who was leaning over the table with what Garrus imagined was a resolute expression behind his mask. "Rannoch is barely colonised, we have plenty of space. Even better, the geth are helping us construct colonies – they could have a refugee centre prepared in... how long?" At the latter words, he turned to the geth trooper stood beside him.

"Estimating the number of wounded from turian comms, adding Crucible civilian components..." the geth murmured. "A centre sufficient to support all basic needs... sixty-eight hours, if we begin work as soon as possible."

"You see?" Zaal'Koris nodded, enthusiastically. "It will take longer than that for us to even organise our fleets, let alone get the wounded back to Rannoch. The geth can have a colony ready by the time the turian fleets reach the homeworld, and once Palaven is reclaimed, quarians can inhabit the colony after the refugees leave."

"That is... most humbling, admiral," the Primarch sighed. "The hierarchy will find some way to repay you."

"You already did," Shala'Raan interrupted. "You fought this war..."

"Then it's decided," Hackett nodded. "We return the wounded and the Crucible's civilian staff to Eden Prime or Rannoch, we repair our ships, and then we move on Palaven."

There was a general murmur of assent around the table, and the various parties began to filter away, presumably returning to their own ships to begin organising the survivors.

"Primarch Victus!" Hackett called, over the messy hum of the attendees. "A word, please, on board the Normandy. Wrex, Admiral Raan, could you join us?"

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Garrus muttered, in the admiral's ear.

"Sorting out the matter of councillors," the grizzled old man replied. "The asari and salarians can join the discussion later, but we need to discuss the possibility of seats for the krogan and quarians – and Victus is the only other leader I trust with that right now..."