Chapter 23 ~ Guardians of a savage paradise

I crossed the conference room and stalked into the small anteroom that used to be part of the Tech Lab.

In addition to the obligatory guard post Alliance protocol had us upholding for the war room – which was maybe a tad overkill in our current situation – we had set it up as another break room with snacks, water and thermos jugs for the Crew working the CIC. Two birds, one stone.

Garrus was already there chatting with Private Campbell and Ensign Copeland. I had brought him up to speed on the shuttle trip back from the Valley. Cerberus. Mechs. Rigged bomb. Victus' son. Well, him and Joker. Keeping anything of importance from the Flight Lieutenant these days was a lesson in ultimate futility.

Our gazes met. "Alright. They're all yours, Mr. Reaper Advisor."

He pushed of the high table with a hint of a sly expression. We had agreed on the classic; good cop, bad cop. Or in our case, bad cop and maniac.

I passed him. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around my armor covered forearm.

"You're ok?"

I nodded, very aware of the two soldiers close by. "Peachy as Shaira's buns. We talk later, okay?"

He released me with a roll of his eyes.

"And please, don't let them kill each other," I added.

"Mm-hmm. Who do you think kept them so far?"

My lips twitched. It was nice seeing him radiate the same confidence, he used to show only while watching the world through the scope of his rifle.

"Yeeah. I'll be in the Med Bay, if you need me."

On a second thought I added a detour to my cabin, had a quick shower and changed into some Crew fatigues. Then shortly later, I hovered behind Mordin, who was switching up an infusion bag for Eve. The Professor moved with deliberate slowness, replacing the old bag, adjusting the drip, checking Eve's vital, adjusting the drip again. It would have made a stone antsy. Currently the Normandy was conveniently hiding among the debris orbiting Tuchanka, but the close run in with Cerberus at the bomb site had been a not so gentle reminder that we simply had no time left to dick around.

"Shepard," he said, moving from Eve to the Med Bay's main console. "Maybe you shouldn't have provoked the Dalatrass. Again." He finished hacking in some notes and turned to me. "Not that I agree in any way with her proposal."

"Heard that already, huh?"

He shrugged. Figures. It's good to be former STG, apparently.

I crossed my arms before me. "While she is playing her games, people out there die. Or worse. I have neither the patience nor the energy left for her absurdities. You think she's going to send someone to sabotage us?"

"Would have suspected interference in any way. Now we simply know for sure."

Uh-huh, water under the bridge. I hopped onto the empty bed across from Eve.

The krogan woman regarded me with an intent light in her slitted amber eyes. "You sacrifice much by making an enemy of Linron. There is no guarantee the cure will work," she finally said, her calm, deep voice loaded with the silent and steadfast strength of someone wise way beyond her years.

"I know. But I trust Mordin. If anyone can pull this stunt off, it's him. And I trust Wrex to not let me down, no matter what. And you at that."

I held her reptilian gaze. Like 99% of the galactic community, I had been deeply convinced that their culture was the picture of utmost patriarchy. Since meeting Eve, I wasn't so sure anymore.

"A great leap of faith, Commander. Most would consider it misplaced in face of our history."

I shifted on the thin cushioning. "Everybody deserves a second chance. Hell, if not for second chances, I would be dead in a ditch at least three times over. Besides, how much of what the Council races see as erratic or uncivilized behavior is actually a direct result of the genophage's constraints? Your people are already changing, or we wouldn't be here to begin with."

The krogan inclined her robe-covered head. "They do. Many Clans have agreed to follow Urdnot, and even more important: they are recognizing the need to change. Urdnot and the female Clans will do what they can to honor the chance you are giving us. However, only time can tell if it will be enough."

I shrugged, keeping my voice light. "Look, from where I stand, there are only two possible outcomes anyway: us or the Reapers. And even if we win, the galaxy will be an awfully empty place after all is said and done. Just as well we can give the krogan a shot at management this time. And if we lose… yah, at least we can go down, knowing that we made a lot of krogans very happy for the short remainder of their lives."

The evasive half-truth stung, but only a little. Rational me was perfectly aware that – should we survive – from a brutally honest, naked-facts-comparing point of view we all were probably better off with the genophage in the long run. Krogans included. Let's face it, even under new leadership, with their birthrates the chances for another Krogan Rebellion were skyrocketing. But the other me had already buried too many friends, had seen too much grief and pointless destruction, to not grasp for the unique option to fucking-finally set something horrible right again. However short-termed, in face of the Reapers' overwhelming menace, we needed this victory. I needed this victory.

"Commander," Joker's voice suddenly spoke up. "We are receiving intel that the surv posts near Vaul are registering an increasing activity of Reaper signatures in sector theta. They might reach Tuchanka within the next 8 hours."

Crap on toast. Of course they would. "Mordin, how much longer do you need?"

"Cure sample prepared. Now have to replicate it to sufficient quantities."

"Any estimations?"

"Around 20 hours GST. More or less."

"Would you need the Med Bay for it?"

"Actually, no. Any standard lab with portable clean room will do."

"That decides it." I pushed off the bed. "EDI, can you ask Adams and Garrus to meet me at the Med Bay ASAP?"

"Done, Commander."

I had some ideas about Utukku.

Nobody was going to like it.

~V~

"Listen up, people," Shepard started when the Med Bay's door closed behind Engineer Greg Adams and me. "The Reapers will soon arrive on Tuchanka and we still got Wrex' scouts sitting out there waiting for help. We're running out of time, which means we have no choice but to shift things up a gear."

"Plus, Traynor just came across an evac request from Grissom Academy," Adams added. "She said a turian frigate had answered the call, but…"

I shared a grave look with the Commander. "But something about the signal seems not quite right."

"Yes. How…"

"Cerberus," Shepard spat. "Again. Well, it only confirms that we have to hurry. Alright, this is how we're going to play it: I'm going to Tuchanka and watch over the distribution of the cure. Mordin?" She twisted around to look at the Professor standing at the lab table.

"Eve's health stable enough. Just need to pack and we can head out on your signal."

"Perfect. In the meantime, the Normandy can stealth out and get to Utukku and the Academy. Bonus points because nobody will suspect that the ship would go anywhere without me."

Sound reasoning all along. Suspiciously sound. I frowned at her, but the Commander turned to the engineer.

"Adams, you're going to have command of the ship in my absence. Garrus, you'll lead the squad and pitch in as my second XO for anything combat related. No, hear me out," She lifted her hand, and I swallowed my protests. "I know what you're going to say. But you're a Commander as well, and you know the drill by now better than anyone else. The crew will respect that. Lieutenant Vega might be Alliance, but he doesn't have enough experience. Adams, any objections?"

"Quite the opposite, Commander. I fully agree with your assessment."

She lifted her head. "Joker?"

"None at all." The flight lieutenants voice filtered in over the comm. "The turian is becoming more and more like you anyway. Nobody's going to notice the difference. And Garrus, and when in doubt, well, just WWSD it."

"WWSD?"

"What would Shepard do."

Shepard winked at me. "See? All settled then. Also, we are looking at two evac missions that might turn ugly in a heartbeat and no idea what other fuck-ups to expect. This endeavor simply needs someone with your level of skill and experience to have any chance of success." She paused for the fraction of a heartbeat. "Someone I can trust to make the right choices. No matter what."

I exhaled slowly. This was an uphill battle. "Yeah, thanks for the pep talk, Commander. So be it. Just tell me, who is going to watch your sixes, then?"

"I'm taking Vega. EDI is bound to the ship, and I can't cut Liara off her command center either."

I nodded. "Agreed. But… do you really believe those krogan scouts will listen to me?"

"Grunt definitely will. He's the one leading Aralakh Company. They probably all know by now that you helped killing the maw. You'll be fine."

"Hah, you might even get some mating requests after all."

Shepard snickered.

I glared at the camera. "Very funny, Jeff."

The Professor started to hum Die for the Cause.

"No!" Eve hissed. "For the third time, Doctor; just no!"

I squeezed the ridge between my eyes.

What had I gotten myself into?

.~'*'~.

I entered the elevator the last moment, the doors closing behind my spurs with a soft click.

Shepard's hand froze on the panel, green-eyed gaze unreadable.

I reached for her hand and hit the override. The elevator stopped. The Commander first looked at my hand around hers, rough brownish turian hide contrasting against her pale human skin. Then at my face. Her lips twitched once, and then she threw her arms around my neck. Our bodies collided. Her momentum forced me back a step until I found my balance. I wrapped my arms around her slender body and nudged my forehead against hers.

No need for words. No need to explain. So far this reunion wasn't what either of us had in mind.

I inhaled, her familiar scent filling me with frantic need. And regret. The months apart had been a torture only bearable because the threat of an impending all-overpowering invasion was one hell of a distraction, and now that I had her back... Damn it. Why was there never enough time...

Her lips nipped at the corner of my mouth. Her teeth followed. A thrilling rush of heat ran down my spine. I licked the outline of her jaw up to the base of her oddly shaped ear, relishing in the beautiful little moan that escaped her. So I did it again. The reply was imminent and visceral. The pale-haired Commander pushed her groin against my shifting plates like a savage, blunt nails raking across the back of my head and the sensitive base of my fringe. I felt her mouth on my damaged cheek, her flexible lips creating this oddly pulling sensation, that never failed to stir me. She traced the scar tissue back to my own hardened lips until I tasted the inside of her mouth on my tongue.

Spirits, I had missed her. And the frightening ease with which she set my world on fire.

I would be a barefaced liar if I denied that the night before the Collector base had been on my mind more often than probably healthy for my psyche. And yet it was so much more than just revisiting the vivid memory of frantic passion and primal cravings to fuel my smut-ridden imagination. Despite everything that set us apart; despite all the barriers culture, physiology or biology had erected between us, there had been this unfathomable closeness; an intimacy of spirit and soul going way beyond our carnal connection.

With a grin I buried my face in the crook of her neck. I still had come up with a lot of new things I was dying to try.

My hands moved along the sinuous curve of her back, then slipped under the edge of her crew shirt to reach her waist; soft pliable skin begging me to drag my fingers across it. And who was I to resist that kind of call?

Unfortunately, an unpleasant notion intruded, despite that her nimble hands on my abdomen tried really hard to convince me otherwise. Ah yes. The elevator might not be the most appropriate place to make out like there was no tomorrow. Our sense of modesty had clearly deteriorated to an alarming degree.

Maybe it was time to come up for air. Before some unsuspecting Alliance operator stumbling over the video feeds would be scarred for life. Or EDI. Oh well. On a second thought...

So many spots on her body I had yet to investigate in full. So many unexplored ways to bring her pleasure.

Not today, Vakarian.

"I want a promise," I finally growled against the side of her neck, fighting to clear the haze of lust in my head.

"Mhmm?" The Commander mumbled, intent on her mission of working through the fasteners of my jacket.

I nudged her jaw with my nose. "No impressive, but utterly needless stunts. Promise me."

Her fingers on my jacket stilled. "Deal. My hand on the latest issue of Guns & Ammo."

I sighed, pulling back to look into her vivid green eyes. "Just… try to stay alive, okay?"

She nodded, then reached up to caress my scarred cheek. "You too."

I leaned into her touch, desperately drinking in her proximity. Curse it all to hell and back.

Suddenly she turned and angled for the topmost button. The elevator resumed its ascend.

"EDI," she said, a wicked light entering her expression. "Please tell the shore party that… I, ah, need a few more moments to pack up my gear. 15 minutes."

"Of course," The AI replied smoothly.

I lifted the plate above my left eye at her. "Really, Shepard?"

Her grin turned into a leer. "EDI?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Make it 30."

"Very well, Shepard."

~V~

Exactly 32 minutes later, I rushed into the hangar geared up for combat, diplomatic incidents, and imminent apocalypse, just as Lieutenant Vega and Flight Lieutenant Cortez were loading up the last provisions. I nodded at Cortez in thanks. He would be staying with the Normandy. Garrus and Adams certainly needed an experienced shuttle pilot a lot more than we did. I handed Vega my equipment crate, then climbed into the Kodiak and sat down next to Victus and across Mordin, Eve and Wrex. Gingerly.

The scarred Battlemaster sniffed. Then grimaced and opened his mouth full of hideous shark-teeth. Eve kicked his calf.

"Commander," Eve resumed smoothly. "Thanks again for helping us. You and Lieutenant Vega both. In a galaxy surrounded by enemies, it is good to know where your true allies are."

Victus pointedly cleared his throat. The female krogan was utterly unimpressed.

"Here, have some water." Mordin held out a battered canteen to the latest leader of the Hierarchy.

Victus crossed his arms before his chest and gave the two of them the stink-eye.

Oh goodie. This was going to be some fun trip.

Of course the Primarch had insisted on tagging along. He would also coordinate the squadron of turian fighters that were stationed in the DMZ as part of the Council's constant watch on the krogans. Just as well. He might not particularly enjoy helping the krogan race from a long-term agenda, but I could count on him to do whatever it took to see it through. Palaven needed that troops too badly to let himself be derailed by culture instilled animosity. Or some sass. At least that was what Garrus had assured me.

The hatches closed with a hiss. Vega's smooth voice filled the shuttle.

"Kodiak One ready for departure. ETA at Camp Urdnot in two hours, 47 minutes GST."

The shuttle's engines fired up and then we were off. Rubbing that spot on the side of my neck, I stared out the window and at the Normandy within the dark of space. I already missed the turian, my body turning cold the moment his touch had left my skin. Boy, what had only become of Shepard, the stoic Commander that had been so rigidly in control of herself and her emotional responses? And how could this unstoppable ride straight to heartbreak city made me feel so fucking alive?

Suppressing a sheepish grin I shifted on my seat, glad for the medigel numbing the sting. Mh-hmm, so much for 'thirty minutes in heaven before the devil knows you're dead'. Normal people certainly would have gone slow, taking the time to reacquaint themselves with each other's physiology. But nooo, we had been at each other like maniacs. Figures.

I kept staring until the Normandy disappeared from sight. Then I shifted my attention back to my fellow passengers, quenching the sliver of unease. All would be well. Uhg.

Across from me Wrex looked up from his omnitool.

"Anything new on the Reapers?" I asked.

"We're still ahead of their main force, but a few scout ships have been seen lurking in the orbit of Kruban." He shook his head. "They plan something. I can smell it. Camp Urdnot will go into lockdown upon our arrival. Nothing goes in or out until the cure is ready to deploy. My people prepared the lab as requested, so Mordin can start right away."

"Aww, don't tell me we are kicking Fortack and his sunny disposition out his own lab?"

The old krogan chuckled, a low rumble from deep within his chest. "Heh, not at all. You will see."

.~'*'~.

Wrex was right.

Camp Urdnot was not at all like I remembered it.

I turned around in awe, taking in the big, cavern-like hall that had been hewn into the bedrock some millennia ago. About two dozen statues of krogan warriors lined the wide pathway in the middle, their condition gradually declining the closer they stood to the raised portal at the end of the entrance hall. Floodlights decorated heads, humps, and weapons of these ancient tributes to krogan culture and craft, casting the stark walls in a harsh light. Thick power cords wound down the stony warriors like snakes, then ran along the pathway to be fueled by humming generators.

The air was cool and unexpectedly dry. A faint draft stirred my hair, tickling at my neck. Despite the krogans bustling about, the place smelled… ancient. I tried not to think too hard about how ancient the ventilation system might be.

I looked past our parked shuttle, where two krogans unloaded our cargo under the watchful eyes of James and Victus, and at the still open airlock, a battered ERCS troop transporter just approaching for landing. Following Wrex' directions, James had steered the Kodiak towards a mountain range perhaps 100 klicks north of our original destination. It must have been the mountains we had seen during Grunt's rite. We had followed along the rugged cliffs for a solid fifteen minutes until we reached the mouth of a funnel-shaped valley surrounded by steep mountains. There, hidden beneath an overhang, had been the entrance, barely wide enough to fly through.

With an eerie sound of finality the airlock slid shut. At least radiation wasn't as issue. Not with a gigaton of rocks around us. Swell.

"Come on, Shepard," Wrex rumbled into my musings and started towards the portal. "Let's get you settled. I'm afraid we are lacking most amenities of the original Camp, but the old coordinates are just too well-known. If the Reapers possess even the most primitive tactical understanding they are going to hit there first. Besides, the Hollows are not far off and we're going to need them as soon as Mordin is ready."

"What is this place?" I finally asked, tagging along the Clan leader.

Wrex halted in his step and turned to me, his arms spread just so. "This, my friend, is the home of our ancestors. Where six millennia ago Battlemaster Artesh Urdnot had drunken from the acid of Kalros, broke the golden Shield of Artesh over his brother's head and took his krantt and his most loyal warriors to found a clan unstained by the taint of Ildur's crime. Whatever that was about. Anyway," he resumed, "Today there's hardly an Urdnot left who remembers this place. When I was a kid, the stories were still alive, though. At dusk; the campfires already burning for the night. The younglings sitting around the fire, fascinated by the old shaman reciting the glorious tale of how Urdnot came to be…"

He gave me a wry grin.

"No doubt that our beginnings were a lot less glorious than the tales would make us believe, but that's the point of stories, isn't it? Who knows what our descendants will make of our deeds, eh? Shepard, slayer of Saren; undying warrior queen and friend of his Wrexness, the mightiest Battlemaster of all times."

"That's a… terrifying thought, Wrex."

He laughed and we continued down the aisle under the watchful eyes of those who came before.

"Six millennia..." I said slowly, the solemn mood all ancient places emanated seeping into me. "You know, that's quite difficult to grasp if you come from a species that can hardly fathom what insanities got into their ancestors some two centuries ago. In terms of generations, it must be like nothing for you guys."

The old warrior sighed. "It's not that simple, Shepard. Ever heard of a krogan dying of old age?"

I shook my head.

"Exactly. Our bodies might hardly fail us naturally, but living a secluded and peaceful life is simply not in our blood. We crave the risk, the thrill of battle, and the adrenaline of defying a most violent death." He shrugged. "Do that hard and often enough and eventually even the best run out of luck. That's why not many get past their fifth century, and a millennium? Now, that is really rare. Okeer was probably one of the oldest krogan ever spawned from the breeding grounds. Just imagine all the battles he must have survived. That is… until you came along."

"Look, I didn't... Uhg. Forget it." His Wrexness? Yeah, more like his Smugness. "By the way, why didn't Okeer have a Clan name?"

"They shunned him when it became obvious that his ideas of evolution contained abandoning the clan's offspring to the wilderness to 'cull the weak'. Don't worry, nobody regrets his demise." He resumed, unusual chatty. "Fact is, on Tuchanka are just a handful left around my age. Wreave, my broodbrother. The female shaman of Clan Jorgal. Ravanor's two remaining Battlemasters who did not degenerate into Blood Pack. Nakmor Drack who – ah, which reminds me – TOSH!" Wrex barked.

I stuck a finger into my ringing ear.

"TOSH! Where are you? Where is my chief scout?"

He kept yelling until a brown-skinned krogan jogged over to us. They clasped each other's forearms, then the scout stepped back and inclined his head.

"Battlemaster. It's good to have you back. The horde is ready. Wreav has taken a platoon deeper into the mountains, ready to cut into the enemies' back, should they discover us."

"Excellent. Do you have anything on Nakmor? They pledged to send a squad of their finest warriors and two of their Beastmasters. On top, Drack promised me one of his offspring who is apparently a genius with administration."

The chief scout shifted on his feet. "No, Battlemaster. In fact, they have been unusually quiet these past months. They even withdrew most of their border patrols."

"What? Radio your scouts in the area and have them make contact ASAP. I wanna know what's going on there. This silence makes my plates itch."

Tosh nodded and smacked a fist against his opposite shoulder.

Wrex grunted. "Dismissed."

The scout dashed off and suddenly I heard something I would have never ever expected to hear in a krogan war camp: hushed, squeaky voices and… singing?

I turned around. My jaw dropped. A group of six robe-clad females accompanied by Eve and Mordin strode towards us, herding along a horde of about a dozen miniature krogans, most of them barely reaching my waist. One of the women was singing a beautifully pacifying song, whose soft melodious words my translator couldn't quite catch. They must have arrived with the transport shuttle.

"You brought the women and children in?"

I asked slowly as they passed us, a few of the women nodding at me in appreciation. Unlike Eve's, their outfits left their heads uncovered, showing off their smoother cranial plates and distinctly refined features. The kids in their midst had fallen silent, staring at me with all the excited curiosity reserved for the weirdo alien girl in full combat gear. The smallest one turned in the arms of a female, blinking at me with big, cornflower-blue reptilian eyes from a round, sand colored face.

"As many as we could on short notice. She insisted." He pointed his chin at Eve who talked to the woman carrying the infant.

I waved at the little warrior. It stretched a claw-tipped hand in my direction, then opened its jaw, showing me its tiny teeth with a high-pitched roar. Like a chubby little dinosaur.

Oh my god. It was so cute I was going to die.

"And… you're okay with that?"

He shrugged. "The Reapers are a terrible foe, even for us. These ruins will remind us why we fight but having the females and the kids here will ensure that everybody does so until the last drop of bloo–" Wrex stopped with a sigh. "And here it comes..."

It was a tall krogan in what was meant to be civvies pushing towards us. Correction: a very tall krogan.

"What's the matter?"

Wrex lowered his voice. "Since Turok took some vow of austerity that has him abstaining from gambling, ryncol and mating, he's pricklier and primmer than a kahjean virgin."

"You're shitting me, right?"

He gave me a wry grimace. "Nope. He's the perfect Quartermaster: strict, just, and not playing favorites. With anyone, unfortunately."

"Wrex!" the krogan halted before us, waving about with his datapad. It looked ridiculously flimsy in his hands. Wow. He was almost a head taller than my krogan friend. "Wrex, this is unacceptable! That's the fourth group arriving. All those women. The younglings, fine. But those little critters? They will get in the way! Run around! Touch everything! What if they crap all over the place?! We are not equipped for this! I AM not equipped for this!"

I really couldn't tell if he sounded scandalized or terrified. Wrex slowly rubbed his scarred face in a way I knew just too well.

Suddenly Eve stepped up, unnoticed by the krogan giant. "Rest at ease, Turok."

He turned with a start then stooped down a bit to eye Eve. "Shaman?"

"The women all have their orders. They will keep to themselves and ensure that the children will not get under anyone's feet. They also brought in their own provisions..." Suddenly her tone became smug. "Of course, we can always take your concerns to Uta, Quartermaster."

At that the huge krogan took back a step, lifting the datapad in his pranks in appeasement. Or defense. "Ah, that won't be necessary, Shaman." He heaved a sigh. "Very well. There is a room which I think has been used as infirmary once. It is a bit off the way, has its own latrine pit and is probably big enough to hold them all. I'll show you. Wrex, by your leave?"

"Yeah, yeah. This is between Uta and the Shaman. I have merely a Reaper invasion to stop."

Eve snorted and the two headed after the other women.

I watched them vanish through the portal then turned to Wrex once more. "Who's Uta? Sounds like someone nobody wants to cross."

"The leader of Urdnot's females." Something odd flashed across his leathery face, his angry-red eyes blinking. "She is… the only viable offspring of mine that reached adulthood. Come now, Shepard," he rumbled on before I could pester him with even more questions and hastened up the two-dozen wide stone steps, worn smooth by generations of reptilian feet. "I'll take you to the lab. We made good use of the hardware Heplorn and Guld left behind."

.~'*'~.

"Cerveza?"

I dangled out two bottles of the beer that had miraculously made it into our provisions, wolfing down the rest of my to-die-for delicious sandwich. Yup, my sandwich. Vega had actually prepared sandwiches for us; sliced turkey, bacon, cheddar, mustard and all. Like this was some freaking family road trip.

"Gracias, Commandante."

With the Camp in lockdown for the next eighteen hours, Vega and I had settled down before the entrance of the room-turned-lab to guard Mordin and the cure.

I dropped next to the Marine on one of the big stone blocks that ran along the aisle leading back towards the main hall. Apparently, this sector was only a small part of a larger structure Eve had called the 'City of the Ancients', a sprawling complex of ruins and temples that would fill up the huge valley on the other side of the mountain.

The Latino opened the bottle's lid with a quick flick. Ah yes, twist off caps, the underappreciated pinnacle of human genius.

I lifted my beer at him. "So, who's like us?"

"Damn few. And they are all dead!"

Damn straight. Our bottles clinked. I took a swig, the bitter yet fresh taste of hop a blissfully relaxing piece of normality while we waited in a dim-lit corridor for the earth-shattering redemption of a whole race.

"So, you and Scars," Vega begun. "Are you... I mean..."

I arched my brow at him over my bottle. "Seriously?" I sipped on my beer. "C'mon, Vega, what's it you're really asking?"

He fiddled with his beer; his muscular shoulders slumped. "You're not trusting me, are you?" He finally asked, not looking at me.

"I trust you to watch my back. I trust you to do whatever you can to get the cure deployed. And I'm glad you're here with me."

He turned his head to face me. "Not what I meant, Lola."

I sighed. "Look, I'll tell you the same thing I told Garrus: Grunt."

"What?"

I nodded at his puzzlement. "Exactly. Urdnot Grunt. He is the leader of the missing scouts. But more important, he ventured with us behind the Omega relay. Garrus and Grunt… they have a bond forged through battle and bloodshed. They often gloss over it, but deep down these things hold weight with every krogan. And with their history, it's not surprising that they don't trust us aliens very far. So, think we would get anywhere with these scouts if we send them only unfamiliar faces and none of them krogan?"

"But Dr. T'soni-"

"Never was a part of the mission back then. But let's assume I would have gone. That would have still left you and Garrus as the only ones able to come to Tuchanka since Liara and EDI have to go where the Normandy goes. Think you know Vakarian well enough to fight with him? To be stranded with him here?"

He stretched out his tattooed neck. "Ah, we would have managed."

"I'm certain you would have eventually. However, he is still turian and regardless that he is a friend of Wrex it would have been an issue. Especially with the Genophage this short from being cured. Bringing Victus is already pushing it."

I held his dark-eyed gaze.

When he was silent I added, "James, I understand your reservations. And yeah, maybe things would have played out differently if Kaidan was still alive. But he isn't and I'm cursing the fact every day, believe me. As it is we gotta play the cards we've been dealt. And this way we simply have the best chances at both fronts."

"I understand," he finally said and took a sip of his beer. "I'm sorry for questioning you."

I nudged his combat boot with mine. "Don't worry about it. Guess, it is kinda disturbing that the real Commander Shepard is fucking far from the stellar poster girl Alliance grapevine pictures, huh?"

The Marine chuckled. "No tenga problema. I think I'll manage, Lola."

"Ah, there's one more thing: Anderson sent me a footnote with his last report. I'm to evaluate you, and I can hardly do that if you run off to some ass end of the galaxy, right?"

His knitted his brows. "Evaluate? For what exactly?"

"You got endorsed for N7 and since this is hardly the time for simulations..." I shrugged. "I'm glad. It never sat right with me to base these promotions on the results gained from the simulator."

"N7? But why? Fehl Prime was an utter disaster… so many good people lost. And in the end, it was all in vain…" He said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his words.

"I know. And I'm sorry that things turned out like that because of me. But it doesn't make the decisions you made any less."

I picked at the edge of the paper label with my thumb's nail.

"You know, survivor's guilt is a strange thing. It took me a damn long time to stop hating myself for Akuze… And even longer to stop hating the medal they gave me for it. Until I realized it was never meant to be a reward. It was a reminder. A promise demanded. That I wouldn't give up. That I would become better, smarter, stronger. That I would do all in my power to prevent another Akuze. And so will you."

"You really believe in me, huh?"

I met his eyes. "Yes. Because we are warriors, James, set to guard a savage paradise-"

A high-pitched yell of protest erupted at corridor's end. Our heads snapped up at the commotion. In a blink the Stiletto was out of his holster on my thigh and firm in my grip; my biotics laying in wait. Then I chuckled and lowered the black pistol. Vega relaxed, switching his Mattock for his beer once more. The krogan woman directed an apologizing gesture at us, then grabbed the two kids, who had snuck off to gaze at those strange aliens, by the edge of their cranial plates.

I watched them go with a bittersweet smile. Maybe these kids would grow up to become different. Able to shape a future free of the curse that had corrupted every aspect of their culture.

"You know what, Lola?" Vega said into the silence. "I'm glad, I'm here, too."

~V~

EDI moved.

Fascinated I watched how the AI dashed about the hall and mowed down the Cerberus troops with unreal precision, every single shot of her two Carnifex striking home. She had recalibrated her small arms setup using a leaked Armax mech upgrade Liara acquired through her Broker sources. And now she was a synthetic god, laying out a deadly curtain of bullets mixed with flares of tech that she released with the fluent ease of an organic using their biotics. Granted, the uninterrupted, lag-free uplink to the Normandy laying in wait no two klicks away was playing a big part in it but, damn, if EDI wasn't putting up an impressive show.

A last group of four got sucked into Liara's singularity, dead before I could even power up my shot. And just like that it was over. With a wistful sigh, I climbed out of the Atlas mech. Damn it. I had always wanted to try one out in combat.

The biotic bubble encompassing most of the gallery above of us blinked out of existence. A familiar human figure leaned over the rail, arms covered in blue sheen.

"Vakarian?!" The woman exclaimed.

I did a double-take. I had expected a lot of crazy stuff to be thrown my way, but this kind of crazy was certainly the least expected. Especially at an academy. And was that hair? The colorful speech, however, was unmistakable.

"Spank my ass and call me a bitch, what the hell are you doing here?"

I lifted an arm in greeting. "Hi Jack, still charming as a rabid varren, I see. We've come to help."

The ex-convict vaulted over the rail, her drop slowed in an impressive display of her biotic abilities. Not many were powerful or skilled enough to master levitation at all, let alone be able to do so while yelling orders at the group of wide-eyed students still on the gallery. Their youthful faces popped up at the rail, and I realized they were watching Jack with awe and, well, respect.

"Oh, bite me, Vakarian," she retorted with a wry grin and crossed her arms below her chest. All weapons holstered. For now.

"Mh-hmm, that's not how you greet the cavalry, you know?"

She grunted a reply that might have been 'thank you' and 'fuck you' both, then scanned over me, my squad and the two dozen dead Cerberus troops splayed on the polished floor.

Her eyes narrowed. "Hey, where's the queen of the girl scouts?"

"She's needed elsewhere I'm afraid. But she certainly would have wanted me to send you her warmest regards."

"It's Cerberus again, isn't it?" she hissed, kicking the closest corpse with a heavy boot. "How many time do I have to tell her that she can't trust those smashed assho–"

"It's NOT Cerberus." I injected quickly. "Alliance business. With a dash of whatever-it-takes-to-stop-the-Reapers."

"Uh-huh, and what's with the shiny sexbot? Rats, that thing certainly stinks of Cerberus!"

The synthetic lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers in an eerily organic display. "Hello Jack. It's a pleasure to see you well."

At that the biotic maniac started with a tiny jump. "What the actual... EDI? Is that you?"

"I am. I apologize if my new mobile platform is offensive to you."

Jack shook her head slowly. "Nah, all good, EDI. But damn, what crazy shit have you people been up to?"

Right, where only to begin?

"Students, this is Cerberus," a male voice blared through the hall's speakers. "This station is under our control. Your teachers cannot save you. These aliens cannot save you. Surrender peacefully and you won't be harmed."

Jack looked ready for bloody murder.

I clicked a fresh heatsink into my Mantis. "Tell you what, let's get you, Lieutenant Sanders and the students out of here, and I'm going to answer whatever bloody question you have."

"You got it." The biotic human looked up and raised her voice. "Alright guys, you heard the birdman. Eat your energy bars, we move out in five!"

"Birdman? Seriously?"

She turned back to me with a lopsided grin, tugged at her short studded leather jacket, and for the fraction of a moment there was something unexpected youthful and soft about her.

"Thanks, Vakarian. For caring and all."

.~'*'~.

I crossed the war room, rolling my shoulder.

So, in the end me and my rifle had seen some action. It was more than a little disconcerting how much Cerberus had wanted to apprehend those students. Or Jack at that. But as Miranda once stated, the Illusive Man didn't take objection well. Or rejection. Or blowing up his property.

Funny, but in a way this mission had turned out to be a lot like those days with the SR-1. No nagging questions, no moral dilemma. Despicable terror group on the one side, we on the other, and some innocents to guard in between. Clean lines. And damn, it had felt really good being able to protect those kids. No casualties. No failures. A clean victory. How long had it been?

And now we are going to send them straight into battle…

Sure, most were probably the same age I was when I joined the military, yet thinking of their horrid expressions as they got forced for the first time to use their biotics to actually kill another sentient being… War certainly had a way of beating the youth out of anyone.

I suppressed a sigh full of regret.

Nothing I could change there either. On Hackett's orders pick-up was already under way. Until then the two dozen teenager happily crowded both observation decks. But maybe the supporter role would at least spare some of them in the end. For better or worse.

I grinded my teeth.

The status report Victus had forwarded before he left for Tuchanka had been sobering to say the least. If we didn't hurry, instead of trenches, those krogan troops would only be good for digging up graves. On the bright side, the colonies fared somewhat better than anticipated and I surely liked to believe that it was the merit of me and my Reaper taskforce which made a difference there.

The team had been small and the resources barely enough not to feel offended. I got a comm specialist freshly graduated, a grumpy procurement officer transferred for disciplinary reasons, a tight budget and Fedorian's goodwill. Too little to live, too much to die. It had made me painfully aware that the taskforce's whole existence was 80% favor to my father and just 20% of Fedorian seriously believing in a threat of galaxy-wide extent. It changed when the Reapers hit the Sol system, of course, but by then it was already too late.

Between Caleb, Nyxera and me, we had made the most of it anyway. That is, as soon as I had managed to convince them that I was not hopelessly insane. But they believed me and in the end we got the job done. Maybe a bit more unconventional than Fedorian or my father might have liked. Quite surprising how much creativity one could muster if you didn't care much for a paper trail, knowing that in a few months there would be hardly anyone left alive to haul your bony ass in. We couldn't be too careless, though, which was part of the reason why we focused on the colonies. The other because they actually were the most vulnerable. So we stocked them up on provisions, ammo and emergency housing.

Occasionally, Liara had thrown in a helping hand and dug up some dirt. A few pressure points on the officer overseeing the regular repairs regarding his little questionable side business, slipped in some heavy bunker fortifications on Digeris.

There might have also been two orbital canons commissioned solely on the promise of generous compensation through the highest member of the Hierarchy.

And yet the sad fact remained: no matter how many MRE's, guns or bunkers we acquired, against the Reapers it would never be enough.

Never enough. Come to think of it, a disconcertingly apt epitaph for my whole life.

I stepped into the comm room, activating the QEC.

"Anderson?"

I waited for about ten heartbeats. Finally the blue-tinted holographic image of the human admiral flickered to life, his dark-skinned face looking tired.

"Vakarian," he said, his posture straightening. "That's a surprise. Is everything alright? Where is Shepard?"

"Securing krogan support for both of our homeworlds. She ordered that we split forces to save time. My team just impeded a Cerberus attack on Grissom–"

"Grissom Academy?! Do you know anything about Kahlee Sanders?" If there had been any doubt that their acquaintance was more than a mere business relation it was quelled by the unmistakable hitch of fear that had entered his deep voice. "She's one of the Academy's directors and–"

I lifted my hands. "Don't worry, Sir. We picked her up along with the remaining students. In fact…" Behind me I heard the doors open. I stepped aside. "Ah, if you'll excuse me? You certainly expect an official report, but in the meantime..."

"David!"

The blonde human woman rushed past me. I left the small room with a satisfied smile. The Reapers were causing enough grief already. We all needed the reminder that there was indeed something left worth fighting for.

I stopped in front of the console where Traynor and EDI tried to formulate and assess our current status based on the most recent developments.

"Hey."

I looked up. A slim figure peeled out of one of the seats and stalked over, tattooed hands buried in the pockets of her pants.

"Alright, lay it on me, Vakarian," the ex-convict-going-teacher drawled. "How deep in the shit are we? And don't give me that garbage about classified intel. I saved your ass, like a hundred times."

Riiight.

"Perish the thought," I replied dryly and shrugged. "We're ill-prepared – as expected – because next to nobody with a say really listened. Luckily, it seems that the little that had been done bought us just enough time to get our defenses up and some countermeasures under way."

She leaned against the console, squinting at me. "So, we're going to kick their shiny metal asses, right?"

I exhaled with a sigh. "No. Not by conventional means. There is a plan, though. A project," I said, carefully weighing my words. Not because I didn't trust her, but because every insider was a potential hazard if they fell into the Reapers' claws, tentacles, or whatever. "We funnel as many resources into it as we can get away with. Not even Shepard knows much of the details; you only learn them if you go in, and that's a one-way trip. It's the only way to keep potential leaks as vague as possible. The rest –"

The biotic snorted. "Yeah yeah, lemme guess; it's our job to keep the Reapers nicely distracted."

I nodded. "For as long as it takes."

"Then I'm double glad that my kids will be auxiliary." She ran a hand through her hair, covering only the top of her head. "Aww, shit, just look what became of me. All bothered about other people's welfare and crap. This is insane, a year ago I would have simple weathered this storm out in some dingy gin-mill at the ass end of the Terminus."

"A year ago you were frozen stiff on the Purgatory..."

"Pff. Semantics." Jack paused. "She does that with everyone, doesn't she? Rubbing off her stupid virtues and goddamn integrity."

"You know, that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Her painted lips twitched. "No. But it makes you care and that's a real pain in the ass..." she trailed off.

"So… Got anything on Massani?"

"Sure. The old bastard is fine as per fucking usual. Probably chilling around and wasting his credits on quasar as we speak. He claimed something odd's cooking on Omega, so he left for the Citadel about two weeks ago."

That got my attention. "Odd? What do you mean?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Dunno. Merely said he gotta trust his gut. Then he went on with his 'this takes me back' BS and then things might have gotten slightly out of hand 'cause I had to threaten to nail his balls to the wall so he wouldn't dare to leave Eezo behind." She took in my unspoken question and pulled up a shoulder. "I got him from a shelter on Thessia and he is such a good and smart boy, but Sanders thinks the Academy is no place for a biotic varren. Which is somewhat ironic if you ask me."

I really tried to keep my face straight. "Aha. A pet varren. Biotic."

"Shove it and save your sarcasm for someone else. Here," She brought up her omnitool. "You can ping Zaeed through this account. You should see him next time you get to the Citadel. He still has his contacts and stuff and… yeah, what good is saving any resources if we all end up dead, right?"