CHAPTER 30: HANGOVERS

Lieutenant Commander Layla Shepard awoke slowly to a monotone screech, groggily trying to hit for the clock to shut off the harsh wailing from the alarm that was causing additional hammers to pound her head into mush. She knew that she had drank too much the night before, and hadn't had enough water, and she now paid dearly for that fact today.

She finally found the switch, ending the shrieking cacophony after several seconds of her hand flapping around on the endtable and the alarm. She didn't move for several minutes as she let out infrequent, irregular pained moans, not wanting to move, not wanting to do anything but will the throbbing pain away. Instead, she willed herself to sit on the edge of the bed for a minute. With the alarm stopped, the pain at least slowly abated to pre-screeching levels, which was still drastically unpleasant.

She slowly stood, and then the nausea hit in force. She debated whether to sit back down, or go to the bathroom. Her bladder was telling her to do the latter, and she slowly shuffled towards the head.

Times like this were when she was really glad that she had her own private bathroom. She had never returned to a ship after drinking this much before, and she couldn't imagine having to share a bathroom or quarters right now.

She washed her hands after using the restroom, and stood in front of the mirror for a couple minutes, her bloodshot eyes emptily staring back at her. No, her eyes were asking her why in God's name she drank so much the last evening, biotic or not. The nausea had abated, and she figured at this point it would be safe for her to drink water…presumably. She downed a sip of water and stood for a couple more minutes, just to make sure. The nausea didn't return, at least in severe form, and she shuffled back to her bed, slowly climbing in with a soft moan of pain as she curled up under the covers and placed the second pillow over her head. She didn't have to worry about falling back asleep – her head hurt far too much for that.

Shepard didn't move for several more minutes. In between being hit with sledgehammers, her mind told her that she had to get cleaned up at some point to meet with the ambassador, but the repeated pounding told her to stay in bed, all the while cursing at herself for drinking so much. She slowly opened her eyes again, drawing to the edge of the bed, as she sat up and slowly tossed her nightgown to the floor, not caring about tossing it in the laundry at the moment. She slowly got to her feet again and trudged towards the shower.

She turned the water on, forgetting to adjust the temperature, and was rewarded with a near freezing stream of water that first hit her head and then rushed down the rest of her body. She yelped in surprise at the sudden cold water washing over her skin.

Now very alert, very awake, and very cold, she stepped out of the way of the freezing water as best she could and searched for the temperature controls and requested hot water. It took several seconds, and by the time the water had heated to about body temperature she was thoroughly freezing and shivering uncontrollably, in the process getting most of her hair soaked. She hadn't planned on that. It would definitely make her late for meeting with the ambassador. Oh well.

The hot water soon helped with the shivering, and she realized that the sudden cold then hot water had helped the headache, at least for the moment.

She took a long shower, then set about brushing her teeth and applying makeup while her hair dried. She worked on her hair as best she could, finding it was not cooperating again this morning, as if it too was rebelling against the alcohol from the prior night. She took a break from her difficult hair for a bit and got dressed. After She returned to her hair and got it to look marginally passable, which was probably the best she could do in the scenario, and headed to the mess.

Kaidan Alenko slowly woke, his head pounding from the night before. He sat up on the edge of the bed, and he walked to the showers a minute later. The cool then warm water didn't do much to help his headache, and he brushed his teeth and pulled on a fresh jumpsuit. Each step made him wince, but he wanted food.

Wrex sat in the mess by himself, and he had been there a while from the looks of it. He turned to face the lieutenant, giving him a wide grin. "Good morning, Lieutenant!" he said, far too cheerfully for the situation.

"Morn'n," Alenko grunted back. He collapsed into a seat in the mess, placing his head in his hands. This was his punishment, he decided, not for drinking so much, but for having inappropriate thoughts about his CO.

"Isn't this a fine day?" the krogan prodded.

"Does anything about me look fine?" the lieutenant muttered.

"I'll tell you what would be fine. More ryncol."

"I didn't even have any, and look at how this morning turned out," he grumbled.

"Pretty good, given that you're able to walk," the krogan replied. "Could have been much better, but you take what you can get."

Alenko gave Wrex a very puzzled look. "OK, just what are you talking about?" he finally asked.

Wrex chuckled, a low, persistent rumble. "You're so...I don't know the right word. Blind. No, unobservant," he said with a shake of his head.

The lieutenant stared at the battlemaster for several moments. "Does this have anything to do with what you were joking about with Joker and Ash?"

"Yes," Wrex replied.

Alenko growled in frustration, the process causing a pulse of pain in his skull. "Drunks should not be this cheerful the next morning," he muttered.

"I keep forgetting humans only have two livers."

"We have one liver, Wrex," Alenko replied.

The krogan remained silent for a long time as he regarded the lieutenant. "Huh," the battlemaster said in mild surprise. "Well, that explains why you look the way you look right now."

"Is anyone else up?"

"Just you."

Alenko slowly stood, trudging to get food from the mess. He grabbed a couple rations and trudged back to his quarters.

"Have a wonderful morning, Lieutenant," Wrex called after him, chuckling. Alenko summoned the energy to give the krogan the finger over his shoulder, causing the battlemaster to chuckle. The lieutenant ate the rations and climbed back into bed with a muttered curse. He lay in bed while his brain felt like it would pound out of his skull.

The headache faded slightly, and after what seemed like hours, the lieutenant slowly pulled himself out of bed. He checked the clock; it hadn't even been fifty minutes. Well, he needed to eat and drink something more substantive, so he trudged back to the mess to start cooking. Wrex was still there, this time cleaning a rifle on one of the tables.

"Do you have to do that on a mess table?" Alenko grumbled.

"Yes."

"Why are you doing that here?"

"Watching hungover people amuses me."

"You're making a mess in the…mess."

"It's on a towel," the krogan retorted defensively.

Alenko grumbled as he slowly began to make a large breakfast. He had almost finished when Wrex cheerily called out, "Good morning, Commander!"

The only response Alenko heard from her was a pained "uh." He turned to see Shepard trudge towards the water.

"You're having a great morning, I hope?" Wrex prodded with a grin. "Lieutenant Alenko is."

She glared at the battlemaster, followed quickly by a wince.

"You know what would help the both of you? Physical exertion. You both need to get that blood pumping!" Wrex exclaimed.

Shepard frowned at the battlemaster, followed by another wince. "Wrex, running, or using biotics, is the last thing I need right now."

Wrex regarded her for a few seconds before hanging his head and sighing, with a shake of his head. "Not what I was referring to."

She gave the krogan a confused look before making eye contact with Alenko. Her eyes were droopy and bloodshot, but she appeared to perk up on seeing him. "Hey," she said.

"Hi," he replied.

"Looks like you survived too."

"Kinda wish I hadn't right now."

She chuckled, grabbing a large glass of water.

"You have to meet the ambassador in a bit?"

"Unfortunately."

He stopped for a moment, looking at her. "Do you need me to come with you?"

"I mean, I won't turn down your company if you want to come," she said, before suddenly turning away and quickly rummaging through the MREs, though she didn't select any, only settling on a large glass of water. Wrex laughed heartily, causing both humans to turn to face him. "What?" Shepard asked in confusion.

The battlemaster shrugged in response.

"He, and Joker and Ash, are up to something. No idea what though," Alenko added with narrow eyes as both officers stared suspiciously at the battlemaster.

She looked at Wrex for a long time, trying to figure out what caused the krogan to laugh. "I'm only heading straight to the embassy, so there's nothing to worry about." Her omni-tool beeped, and she looked at it with a frown. "And I'm going to be late. Oh well." She looked to the two other occupants in the mess. "Just stay out of trouble, Wrex."

"Don't worry, I won't," the krogan replied.

"That's exactly what worries me."

The commander stepped out of the skycar at the embassy. The turns and banks skycar ride hadn't helped her headache, and caused the nausea to return. She waited in the lobby of the ambassador's office, sitting and reviewing reports on a datapad provided by his secretary, keeping her mind occupied and away from the slight apprehension she always felt whenever meeting a senior official. The serious headache didn't help matters.

Several minutes later, the door to Udina's office opened and the ambassador beckoned for her to enter. He hadn't been seen without hard liquor in hand at the ceremony at any time, yet he showed no evidence of imbibing anything the night before, with his suit perfectly pressed and his hair perfectly in place. Her own head continued to throb painfully. It isn't fair, she thought. It just isn't fair.

"Commander Shepard," he said

"Ambassador Udina."

Anderson greeted her next, getting a small smile out of her, grateful for his presence.

"I didn't see you at the end of the ceremony yesterday," the ambassador said politely, though with an undertone of an accusation. He scrutinized her appearance, knowing that she had left early to spend time at a nearby bar with her crew, and she clearly felt the effects of the night before. "Commander, you are a very public representative of humanity. You should remember that, and take the role seriously." She was grateful that he hadn't raised his voice; her headache couldn't take yelling right now.

"My apologies, sir," she replied evenly.

"Just remember who and what you are next time." He sighed, with the frustration on his face slowly fading. "To be blunt, we are not getting the help we need to defend our territory from the geth, even before Noveria," he looked at her, the unspoken accusation hanging in the air between the three.

Several problems compounded the issue, she knew, more than just her decision to spare the rachni queen. The Council was more than willing to allow the Alliance to expand into the Attican Traverse, satiating the rapid desire for humans to expand. Furthermore, the Alliance could police the still mostly lawless region of space. However, the Council had rarely come to the aid of the Alliance when the latter got into a bit of trouble with pirates, but they were more than content to allow them to act as a buffer between their own spaces and the Terminus Systems.

The personalities involved certainly complicated matters. Humans have only been on the scene for twenty six years, around the time Shepard was born, and many human officials were demanding for a greater say in galactic politics, with some even wanting a Council seat. Humans had impressed the galactic community due to their fight with the turians over Shanxi, but many viewed them as too pushy and demanding. Humans did have outsized influence when compared to their relative scarcity in the galaxy, especially due to their rapid economic growth. The potential for the Alliance's total economic mobilization, used in times of war and conflict, concerned the Council enough that they sometimes did make concessions to humans, which generated resentment from other species.

The volus received their embassy on the Citadel when the Roman Republic was still a thing back on Earth, she knew, yet the volus had not ever been offered a Council seat, despite practically setting up and maintaining the entire galactic economy. The elcor, the hanar…they had been represented on the Citadel for far longer than humanity, yet there was little chance of them ever being admitted to the Council. While humans inevitably would receive a Council seat, Shepard thought that the Alliance should assume a more cooperative stance towards diplomacy, rather than making demands. It would take longer, of course, but it would generate less resentment and be better in the long run. Well, she was just a junior officer in the Alliance, albeit a very famous one, and she could not influence, decide, or dictate policy. She blinked a couple times to not think about such deep thoughts; it wasn't helping the repeated pounding in her head.

"Ambassador," she began, "I will try my best to hunt for leads on Saren's location and hunt for geth outposts."

"See that you do," he responded.

"In the meantime," Anderson interjected, "we will get you any leads we can find on Cerberus."

Udina's head whipped around to glare at the captain. "She doesn't need to know about that," he snapped.

Anderson didn't react. "Admiral Hackett and I gave her an overview at lower access. If we firm up locations on any of their facilities, the Normandy is the best ship to take them out."

"I will do whatever needed to take out Cerberus," Shepard added.

Udina scowled at the captain. "Thanks for briefing this very sensitive Alliance issue to someone who reports to the Council without asking me, Captain. It's always great to be an integral part of the decision making process," he frowned. He then turned his hard gaze to the commander. "You will not repeat anything you learn about Cerberus, even the name, to the Council," he said harshly with a glare.

Shepard nodded, slightly surprised by the sudden change in demeanor from the ambassador. "I will not, sir," she said with a quick nod.

"They are our problem to deal with, and we do not need the Council getting involved. They're already mad enough about the rachni."

With an Alliance officer allowing the rachni to go free, just how much more trouble can we really get into for a rogue organization, or whatever Cerberus is? Shepard thought to herself. She thought again about her decision on Noveria. Despite the political repercussions, her conscience wouldn't allow her to wipe out the remainder of a species, even though Spectres were supposed to make the tough decisions. Not exactly Spectre material, Layla. And you never really wanted this to begin with.

"Has Dr. T'Soni heard anything back from her research colleagues?" Anderson asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Nothing notable, sir."

Anderson sighed. "We're looking for any significant sites. Unfortunately, the ruins on Therum were the most promising."

"Which collapsed on your watch," Udina added as he stared at Shepard.

"What about Eden Prime?" Shepard asked.

"We are still in the process of excavating the ruins. It takes time," Anderson said with a sigh. His expression changed ever so briefly, and it was so quick and subtle that Shepard first thought she imagined it. She would have missed it if she hadn't been looking directly at him instead of avoiding the ambassador's gaze, and wouldn't have even caught it if she hadn't known him for over a decade. She wondered what caused Anderson's subtle change, but she couldn't spare the extra brainpower right now.

"Unfortunately we do not have any prothean sites to investigate, at least ones that might contain useful information. All of them have been pilfered long ago, or are not in Citadel-controlled territory," the ambassador told her.

The room fell silent as Shepard closed her eyes for a moment. "Commander, with regard to Cerberus," Anderson began as Udina's head whipped around to glare at the senior officer. "We found a small Cerberus facility on a remote world several days ago. We had a strike prepared to assault their compound and recover all the information we could, but someone else got there first."

"Do we have any idea who?" Shepard asked.

"That does not concern you, Lieutenant Commander," Udina said coldly.

"If we will send her after Cerberus, she needs to know," Anderson said reasonably. "You're not the only Alliance ship that will be searching for and attacking Cerberus. And at least one other non-Alliance affiliated group is doing the same thing. All we know is that whoever it is, they are competent, from what we found after reaching the compound. If and when you reach a Cerberus facility, be careful."

"In the meantime," Udina handed over a datapad, "we want you to patrol this sector."

The commander scrutinized the sector in the given cluster, looking up after a couple seconds in confusion with slightly narrowed eyes. "Sir, the relays in this sector, and even the rest of the cluster, are well-patrolled."

"I am well aware of that, Commander," Udina snapped back.

She paused before nodding briefly. Why do they want the Normandy to patrol these routes?

"Remember, Commander, every action you take reflects on the Alliance and humanity as a whole."

"I understand, sir."

"You may leave," he told her, gesturing to the door.

She hesitated before standing and taking her leave. "Wait for me outside. I will join you in a few minutes, Commander," Anderson told her.

Shepard exited the ambassador's office and the door sealed behind her. She glanced around the waiting area, with only the ambassador's secretary present, who paid the Spectre no heed. The commander retrieved her omni-tool, opening it to catch up on messages. Nothing major of note, other than multiple lengthy analyses of the interviews she had given the prior afternoon. She sighed, briefly scanning through the summaries. Despite the unexpected questions and developments regarding the news that she had possibly killed an asari matriarch on Noveria, the public apparently held her in high regard, for the most part. If only that high regard would help me to get information on Saren.

The door opened and Anderson exited Udina's office. "Commander. Please come with me," the captain said.

She stood and followed him, falling into pace on his left and half a step behind. He turned a corner and took several more steps to enter his office, following his example and removing her omni-tool.

She glanced around at the well-appropriated room, looking at the lavish furniture and decorations, though the only thing that looked to be something that Captain Anderson might have added was a galaxy map that showed Alliance space and its major worlds. "Nice office, sir."

"I'd prefer yours. Less pretentious, and better company on board the Normandy."

"True enough, sir. Nothing here seems like things you would add."

The captain grunted. "I asked for a pistol range in here. After that request, I'm surprised they didn't give me the bathroom closet for an office."

Shepard laughed. He gestured for her to take a seat, and she did.

"You look like you've seen better mornings," he said after a couple moments.

"I have seen better mornings," she winced. "I don't see how all those people can drink so much, and be perfectly fine the next morning."

"They've had a lot of practice."

She chuckled, though the expression caused her head to pound harder.

Anderson then scrutinized her closely. "Commander," he began, mildly stern. "You shouldn't run off without informing us last night. There are people out there that want you dead. Some want you alive, and being in public alone in the state you were at the ceremony wasn't the best situation."

"Sorry sir. The ceremony...I guess I just wanted to get away from all the attention, and spend some time with the crew."

He didn't need to keep belaboring the point, he knew. "Next time, let someone know. Hell, let me know, and I'll sneak you out of there and cover for you. Understood?"

She nodded. "Yes sir." She paused, glancing around briefly before looking at the captain. "Captain…I guess I'm…what's going on?" she asked quietly. "Why am I being asked to patrol well-guarded systems? And I find it hard to believe that we have nothing to go on right now, on the geth or on Cerberus. Am I being kept out of the loop? If so…"

Anderson sighed. "While everyone that knows about the rachni are upset, at a minimum, you're not being left out. There are some aspects of Cerberus that the Alliance holds very close to the vest, but as far as what you can do about them, what facilities they have, you know everything we do. As far as your upcoming patrol…"

"The ambassador setting us up for a geth ambush?"

Anderson shook his head quickly. "Not at all. I would never allow it. Your patrol isn't going out through any comm channels."

"But someone will notice where we are at."

"True," Anderson said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, we just don't have anything else."

"Collect SIGINT against the batarians?"

He closed his eyes. "That's something that has been argued for, especially after what's happened, but given how thin we're spread with the geth threat, we can't afford to risk antagonizing the batarians."

Shepard drew her arms close together upon the flashbacks of Balak from X57, from Mindoir.

Anderson noted her posture. "We'll find, and kill, Balak," he assured her. "And at the end of the day, you're a Spectre. Ultimately, where you take the Normandy is up to you."

She nodded, looking closely at the captain, wondering if she should ask. "Sir…was everything okay with you, a few minutes ago when talking with the ambassador?"

"You caught that, huh?" He let out a long sigh. "So many problems in the last few weeks. Saren and the geth, Cerberus, the batarians."

"And I complicated things with the rachni," Shepard said quietly.

"You did what you thought was best," he replied to her, keeping his own thoughts on the decision to himself.

"Nobody else sees it that way," she added, looking down. "Are there any prothean ruins that would be worth investigating?"

He shook his head. "Nothing that would be a good use of your time."

"Well," she sighed, "since patrolling the route requested of us also isn't a good use of our time, I'm going to see the best place to collect SIGINT."

"It's your call," he said. "I'll see what high priority collection tasks that are a fit for the Normandy's stealth system. And don't let the criticism of others get to you, Layla. Keep it up."

Shepard returned to the ship to see a few of the crew up, nursing hangovers. Her head still pounded, the aspirin not helping much. She went into the comm room, plopping down in a seat and opening the terminal as she rubbed her head. She had only low level access to a list of intelligence collection targets, but she scanned through them to look which ones the Normandy might be able to help.

Her head began to hurt from the reading, so she closed her eyes for a minute, then stood and left the comm room. She retrieved her omni-tool and scrolled through her messages, seeing a high priority one from Garrus. Meet me in the medbay, she replied to him.

She walked down the stairs to medbay, seeing Garrus approach from the direction of the crew quarters.

"Commander, do you remember when I told you about Dr. Saleon?" he asked quickly.

"I wish I didn't," she said, a grimace appearing on her face as the two entered and closed the medbay door.

"C-Sec forwarded a lead on Dr. Saleon from a turian intelligence organization. Someone has been requesting periodic automated shipments of foodstuffs and medical supplies to a system in the middle of nowhere. That wasn't what flagged our attention – those things are sent everywhere in the Traverse, though it's unusual to be in a system with no inhabitants. The flag was a tiny stash of eezo also ordered alongside the medical supplies."

Shepard's eyes rose in surprise. Element Zero was incredibly expensive, and a very small but lucrative black market had formed around the rare element. "Eezo black market shipments…"

"What caught the attention was the name of the person placing the order. A Dr. Heart."

Shepard's mind recalled the conversation with the turian from earlier, and her large eyes widened. "Where are the shipments heading?"

"A system in the Traverse. Herschel in the Kepler Verge," he replied.

"Come with me," she ordered. She walked quickly up the stairs to CIC, immediately asking Pressly in English, "How long will it take us to reach the Herschel system in the Kepler Verge?"

"Let me check, Commander," he replied in English as his hands dragged over his console. He rubbed his head and winced. "About sixty-five hours at two-thirds power. Unfortunately, it's a few relay jumps, and a pretty out of the way system that is light years from the nearest relay in the Newton system. We can make the trip to Herschel with our FTL drive with no stops, but many other ships can't. There's a mineral-rich planet called Tungel in that system. It's a bit too far away for most civilian ships to reach, so no one has claimed it." He shrugged. "I guess we could, and get the fee."

"We'll want to go faster than two-thirds, but it's more important to keep the drive core saturation in the green. We got a full load of fuel. When are we set to depart the Citadel?" she asked, switching to the trade language as she remembered that Garrus was next to her.

"About ninety minutes, Commander. A last-minute shipment of foodstuffs is due to arrive in the next thirty minutes. If we're in a hurry, we can leave twenty minutes after the rations arrive," he responded, also in the trade language.

"If we're ready to depart early and can get a relay slot, let's depart. Plot a course to Herschel. We're going to track down a geneticist that is growing clone organs inside of people," Shepard continued.

Pressly grimaced, this time not from the hangover. "Sick. Glad my duty station doesn't involve me dealing with that shit."

"We were requested to patrol a busy and well-defended trade route. I checked for anything that we could help with. This will be the best use of our time." Because they have no leads, she didn't add. "I'll be up in forty to take the conn and take us out."

"Aye, ma'am."

She turned and walked towards the stairs to the crew deck, gesturing for Garrus to follow her. Once in the stairwell, she turned to face him and said sheepishly in the trade language, "Sorry. All of us still have a habit of using English, the main human language, to speak to each other. I figured you didn't have your translator in your ear. When that happens, let us know."

"I actually had my translator in, Commander," the turian replied.

"Ah, so you heard everything," she said with a small grin. "We'll head to the closest relay which is a couple hours out, but the Alliance and/or Council may want us somewhere else. We'll be out of reliable comms for a few days, so once we hit the relay we need to make completely sure they won't need us for up to five days. Though if we get a ping on Saren or the geth, we will have to re-prioritize."

Garrus nodded. "I understand."

She went to the crewwoman currently at the comm station, working with her to draft a message to Fifth Fleet and the 63rd informing them of their intentions. She called a messenger from the nearby barracks to send the message by hand; she didn't trust their comm networks despite being just assured of it by AIA. A simple message came in ten minutes later via a one time pad.

LCDR Shepard, request approved. – FADM S. Hackett

Given Admiral Hackett responded instead of Admiral Mikhailovich, and the latter's notable lack of presence the prior night, Shepard suspected that the latter was still a little upset that he did not have direct control over the Normandy, regardless of his thoughts on the prototype ship…and of her. She also figured that she hadn't exactly been high up on the rear admiral's list for the first Spectre. Still, Mikhailovich technically was her direct report, even though so far most of her intel and orders/requests had come from Hackett. Unlike every other frigate and cruiser in the 63rd, the Normandy's CO did not report to a squadron commander.

Approval was granted, and the crew took their stations to make sure that the ship was available to make a speed run and be out of contact for a few days. This crew really was phenomenal – they were ready to depart far quicker than even Pressly had said, completing the myriad of tasks quickly and correctly. Joker undocked from the Citadel, and just a few minutes later they had transitioned through one of the relays at the Citadel, heading for the Newton system.

Shepard felt the slight jolt and queasiness as they snapped back to sublight speeds from the relay. The crew at their consoles reported the Normandy's status as the ship linked into the comm buoy. Everything was nominal.

"Ping sent to Fifth Fleet confirming authorization. Awaiting response," the comm officer stated.

Shepard nodded. The very simple messages being exchanges were nothing more than a few words, after the padding was removed. They would be out of contact for a couple days for anything other than brief pings, and wouldn't be able to respond to leads on Saren for about four days, so they had to make sure nothing else demanded their attention before dropping off the grid. "Orient us towards Herschel and prepare to accelerate and jump."

It didn't take long for the response to arrive, consisting of a simple approval. "We're clear to jump," the comm officer replied before reading the brief message.

"Send back 'Will link into buoy upon arrival and provide outcome of mission and survey. Normandy sends,'" Shepard replied.

"Message…sent." She waited several more seconds before responding. "Fifth Fleet receipted the message."

The commander took a deep breath and said, "Joker, accelerate and jump."

"Aye aye, Commander," the pilot replied.

Layla watched the velocity climb rapidly, and the holographic representation of their location near the relay quickly snapped out to a larger scale, showing the relay as just a dot on the map. In the engineering spaces, the reactor power output steadily climbed. There was an ever faint hum as the primary cooling system kicked in, moving more and more excess heat away from the drive core and reactor, venting it via the DRAs.

"Jumping in 3…2…1…" the pilot said.

The Normandy suddenly vanished from the map, and a split second later the scale increased several orders of magnitude as the holographic display showed the relay and the location of the star and planets in Newton. In seconds, they had entered interstellar space, and the map mode changed, only showing nearby star systems and their progress towards Herschel. Shepard zoomed the map out further. That sure was a long way to travel, she thought.

She kept the deck for the rest of her shift, chatting informally with the crew whose jobs now became both more relaxed and vigilant. While FTL travel was quite monotonous, one still wanted to keep a close eye on the ship systems for any anomalies as the ship raced towards Herschel.

David Anderson calmly approached the meeting place. A large nondescript store had been chosen. Neither too crowded nor empty, it was a good place to meet discreetly, and more importantly, not be noticed or remembered.

He wore civilian clothes that blended him in perfectly. He always found it interesting how a change in look caused nearly everyone not to recognize him. Even Shepard, despite her very distinctive appearance, could often achieve anonymity in civilian clothes.

He opened the door and unassumingly made his way towards the rendezvous, spotting his contact after a couple minutes. The drell stood in a back corner, away from the view of most eyes and away from all persons. Anderson approached and stood next to the drell. Both men faced the entrance and could see the emergency exit, and fortuitously there were no cameras that filmed the entire section of the store, having suffered recent "malfunctions." Both men were also armed, though Anderson knew the drell didn't need to be.

"What do you have?" the drell asked in his baritone voice, slightly more raspy than Anderson remembered it.

"Batarian. Ka'hairal Balak. Not alive, just dead. And we need incontrovertible proof."

The drell nodded subtly, and the human special forces officer noted a slight flare of his contact's nostril folds, an expression of disdain. Anderson figured that given the drell's line of work, he had probably heard of Balak. He knew that the drell held slavers in very low regard, and had indeed killed some of them. "Priority?" his baritone voice asked, slightly raspier than Anderson remembered it being.

"Top. But he will be difficult to pinpoint. I will send you any information we receive with regard to his whereabouts, the usual way. Keep in mind that you will not be the only one hunting him."

"Understood," the drell nodded. "Payment?"

"Nothing added to the retainer," Anderson replied, then stated the amount if he successfully killed Balak.

The drell blinked, a slight sign of surprise for him. The amount was indeed much higher than normal. Anderson knew the drell watched the news, and was smart enough to put the pieces together and probably come up with the correct reason why the Alliance wanted Balak dead so badly.

A minute later David Anderson watched Thane Krios depart the store. He too departed after waiting a minute, taking a different exit route, no one making note of either man entering or departing.

The Illusive Man switched his displays. He had been able to get some information through other assets about a high priority item. Not as much as he would want, especially given the time-sensitive nature of the need. He was still able to get some raw engineering data, and he had full access to all research produced from those studying the peculiar device that created the neutron purge. If the Alliance couldn't make enough progress, he had other options to pursue.

He didn't have concern about the individual that had destroyed one of his remote research facilities, or what the man knew. Those were low priority facilities, and by hitting them got the Alliance, and the vengeful marine, off the real trail.

Two dossiers now hung on two separate screens, though both were of the same person. The Illusive Man didn't need to look at either of them as his mind evaluated the possibilities.

Unlike most people, he wasn't surprised at all that Commander Shepard spared the rachni. He had become the man he currently was for many reasons, and one of them was due to his judge of character, he knew. But the given situation with Commander Shepard might allow for an eventual, though still unlikely, possibility.

He spent some time evaluating his options and the myriad of assets he had in place. After consideration, he decided on a path forward. Before anything major was done, a direct questioning of Commander Shepard was necessary.