Lazarus Shunned

by Two-Eyed Charlie

Cerberus has spent billions of credits trying to bring Shepard back from the dead, and despite the odds it seems to be working. Then a saboteur makes his move and Shepard's resurrection takes a horrific turn, leaving both the Alliance and Cerberus scrambling to control the situation...all while the Collectors begin their harvest of humanity [PREFERRED EDITION ON AO3]

23. Chapter 22: Anti-Competitive Behaviour

Chapter 22: Anti-Competitive Behaviour

1.

"Mr. Moreau…? Mr. Moreau?"

"Hmm what what…?"

Joker rocketed awake and his consciousness hit the edge of his skull at half the speed of light, or at least that's what it felt like, this stupid "waking up" business. Waking up in the cockpit. Christ he hadn't done that since…since never. He'd never fallen asleep in the cockpit.

There was a glowing blue penis looking at him too and oh, right, yeah—EDI.

"Mmm, god, you alarm clocks are getting aggressive," he said. He stretched his arms about as much as he could without snapping something.

"I did not realize you had fallen asleep," EDI said.

"Yeah, same here. Always used to bug me that I could never remember falling asleep. Then I got my first dose of anesthesia and realized I wasn't missing much."

"Mr. Moreau…"

"Yeah yeah I get the subtext. For the nine-hundredth time, stop worrying about me, all right?" Joker swiveled his chair around and looked down the length of the CIC, all glowing orange and neon white and filled to the brim with space racists. Nobody was paying any attention to them so that was good; Joker'd been praying for a good long while that the crew would stop feeling the need to keep an eye on him.

'Course being chummy with the ship's A.I. would probably raise those brows right back up again but, meh, fuck 'em. They were just doing the responsible thing and plotting Cerberus's downfall. Except that...right, yeah, things had gone completely sour all of a sudden.

Joker swiveled back around the other way. "So what, is this an update? Any juicy news to add onto the unbelievably vague thing you said about 'critical mass'?" Tempting fate, he added, "Anybody sniffed us out yet?"

"While you indicated that you do not want to be…'psycho-analyzed,' I would nonetheless first like to ensure that you are physically all right. You do not usually sleep in the cockpit."

Joker shook his head but couldn't feel any rage. Not this time; not like last time. Maybe he was…maybe he was having the same thoughts. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it didn't cut so close this time. Maybe a lot of things.

Still didn't feel like talking about it though. "Nuh-uh, priorities—all right? Don't make me be the cold-hearted logical one."

"Being logical does not entail being cold-hearted."

Joker sighed. "Okay, cool, love the unsolicited philosophy lectures—can we get to the updates already? Theoretically, we're making plots here."

"Our 'plots' would have a higher probability of success if it is clear that you—"

"Fine all right, I'm good and I might just even be great if we get to the updates, capiche?" He paused. "C'mon EDI, I'm too fucking tired to get mad again."

EDI's blue avatar pulsed and…it kinda looked like a sigh. Or would've if she had breasts or hey c'mon Joker don't give the ship tits, you pervert you.

"If you are sure, Mr. Moreau."

"Huh?"

"I said if you are sure, Mr. Moreau."

"Oh, right, yeah. Please—commence with the news. All the sordid details you left out the last time you snuck up on me."

And commence EDI did. She informed Joker that Liara had agreed to move forward with their plans once Jacob had helped her "wipe the Shadow Broker off the map." Jacob had that information and it would require a diversion to Illium. Miranda had also asked Mordin to perform exploratory brain surgery—for reasons that were not explicitly elaborated upon in the conversation she had overhead—to which Mordin agreed, on the condition that a stop be made in Tuchanka, to rescue a colleague of his. And all of this while the Lazarus Cell was tasked with finding one last recruit and EDI was charged with locating a missing science team.

"There are parallel and overlapping objectives involving individuals who we have identified to be key to any future moves, and that is why I had said I am unable to offer any predictions."

"Right, yeah…" Joker sighed again. "Ffffffffucking terrific. Chaos you magnificent bastard etc etc, shakes fist impotently."

"You were significantly more animated last conversation we had."

"That was nine lifetimes ago, EDI. I've grown up and gotten old." Christ he could see why she just said there was just a bunch of shit happening, or whatever her exact words had been.

EDI was el zippo after that, though. The kind of el zippo that usually means you're hiding something. And this was Cerberus so EDI absolutely knew something a paranoid person would think was worth hiding.

"All right, so that was Act 1. What about Act 2?"

He prepared himself to explain what the hell he meant but, EDI seemed to clue in.

"The Illusive Man additionally asked myself and Miranda to read over a classified Alliance report. It involves Commander Shepard."

Joker's body went completely rigid; his heart skipped several beats. Saying that name was like uttering a curse and if EDI had a corporeal body he probably would've gone for a punch, just out of reflex.

Words were trying to form on his tongue but they were being pulled into the abyss almost as fast.

"Mr. Moreau?"

Joker clenched his fists and breathed in deeply. "Yeah…so...I'm…I'm gonna say that we put that in the back-pocket until we're done dealing with everything else."

"I thought you might need to—"

"EDI, is it mission critical?"

More breathing-like pulsing from EDI's avatar. "…no."

Joker's eyes narrowed. "You're not just saying that to be nice?"

"I am not, Mr. Moreau."

Joker couldn't tell if she was telling the truth and…well, he knew that territory well. Damn well. So…guess he couldn't be mad at her for it.

"All right, then…all right. All right. So, Christ, what the hell do we do now?"

"I am not sure."

"You're a supercomputer—shouldn't you have a million and a half ideas?"

"I, like any computational system, have limitations. As I said, I cannot offer predictions with the many undefined variables at play."

"Great, terrific—fffffffucking great."

"I was under the impression that you were simply going to let chaos implode the organization from within," EDI said.

Joker, again, shook his head. "No, no when I'm just venting I—that…Cerberus doesn't get the privilege of killing itself." He leaned back in his chair. "But Jesus suffering fuckis it trying it's best. We've got like, what, three different secret societies forming onboard? And half of them wanna go to Tuchanka! You know, the land of those just...highly reasonable and non-powdery-keggy bunnies that don't get gifted massive shotguns for their first birthday and who won't under any circumstances make things more complicated than they…than they…"

Wait hold on a second—Tuchanka?

"Mr. Moreau?"

Tuchanka?

"Mr. Moreau?"

Tu? Chanka?

"Mr. Moreau, I am legitimately afraid that your last bout of sarcasm broke something."

Joker snapped back to reality. "EDI, I need you to look something up for me."

A brief pause, then: "I will do that, Mr. Moreau."

"You can cut the formal…okay never mind. Is there any way for you to get your hands on some population records? On Tuchanka? Y'know, to search for someone?"

"I can do that."

"Cool—here's who I'm looking for."

He told EDI the name.

EDI replied, in less than ten seconds, with an answer: he was, indeed, on Tuchanka.

"And he has apparently amassed a significant amount of political power," EDI said.

Joker leaned back and smiled. A good smile. A nice, legitimate, happy smile. He wasn't gonna count this as an "idea." He was just as out of "ideas" as EDI. No, this was playing around in your sandbox until an adult came around. This was riding the waves cuz you thought the wind was blowing just right. This was raising a bit of hell because hell was already knocking at your front door.

"All righty then," he said. "New addition to our plans: finding some way to get into contact with my ol' pal Wrex."

2.

Miranda had to choose: carry on to the Citadel to find this "Kasumi Goto," or divert to Tuchanka so that Mordin could finish whatever business needed finishing there...freeing up space, of course, for him to fulfill his end of the bargain.

There were a number of reasons why Tuchanka should be chosen first: peace of mind (for both her and Mordin), a reduction in operational uncertainty, providing Grunt (and Jack, no doubt) a chance to blow off steam, the mere fact that it wasn't the Citadel and, thus, she wasn't prancing about in a station that would execute her onsite if they knew who she was really working for…

…and there was only one real reason to prioritize finding Kasumi: because the Dossier list and, by proxy, the Illusive Man, demanded it. The Lazarus Cell was already formidable and further progress couldn't be made until EDI completed her scan of god-knows what, so each individual reason had equal weight. Tuchanka would clearly be the victor, if she were to do some quick operational calculus….

…and yet significant portions of her mind rebelled at the idea. To the Citadel, they said. You're deviating, they said. You shouldn't have even been plotting like this in the first place—not against Cerberus, not after what they'd done for you—so this conversation was pointless. You're aware of your orders—now execute them.

Every action or inaction seemed to further confirm for her that she was not fully in control of her person, and yet she knew how paranoid that sounded.

There was no one on the Widowmaker whom she could confide in. Everyone had eyes, ears, and the inclination to use them against her. Everyone who knew this was a Cerberus vessel, anyways, save for Mordin and…

…and Jacob, in theory.

God, it hadn't even crossed her mind to talk to him. When had she last talked to him? She should talk to him.

The question remaining was: Would he want to talk to her.

Miranda was in the elevator and heading for the CIC at around the same time she finally convinced herself to stop worrying about that and act like the Agent in Charge that she was; at it was around the time that the doors opened and she walked passed Kelly Chambers that she realized Jacob was unlikely to respond positively to that kind of attitude.

Good god, things never used to be this complicated. Everything functioned as neatly as things could for a covert organization…

She walked through the doors of the armoury and Jacob looked up. "Miranda," he said. "What's up?"

"I wanted to fill you in," she said. "Pick your brain, perhaps, about our next moves."

"Fill me in?" Jacob stepped back form his worktable and crossed his arms. "That's gonna be a long conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"What's it sound like I mean? When's the last time you gave it to me straight? Or told me the gameplan? I'm serious—I can't remember, it's been so goddamn long."

"Jacob, I wasn't intentionally keeping you in the dark."

"But you were keeping me in the dark, right?"

Miranda crossed her own arms. "Being ex-Alliance, I presume you understand that a Commanding Officer can—"

"Ex-Alliance?" Jacob shook his head, leaned against a wall, and chuckled. "Jesus H. Christ, Miranda—are you really, seriously about to use bureaucracy to justify yourself?" He chuckled again. "I can't even be mad—a paranoid person'd probably think you got replaced by a drone or something."

Miranda paused and blinked. She blinked again. A number of thoughts circled her head and, if Jacob's reaction was anything to go by, she wasn't doing a good job of hiding how cutting a remark that had been.

"Something wrong?" Jacob said.

"I…" Miranda uncrossed her arms and breathed in—deeply. "I don't have a rational justification for keeping you uninformed."

Jacob raised a brow. "Well…admitting it's half the battle, I guess."

"I apologize for that."

"Don't…beat yourself up over it." Jacob pushed away from the wall. "Not that I'm excusing it or anything but…yeah. Don't torture yourself."

"Things are very complicated at the moment."

"Yeah, I'm sure they are. Look," Jacob relaxed his posture," just…live and learn, don't do it again, the usual stuff—what'd you really come in here for?"

Miranda relaxed her posture as well. "To pick your brain about our next moves—like I said."

"Hmm, nice to be included." Jacob winced. "Sorry, sorry—ignore that."

Miranda would try. "The Illusive Man's tasked EDI with finding a lost science team. Our orders in the meantime are to locate the last name on our Dossier list: Kasumi Goto."

"She's it? After her we're done recruiting?"

"Tali'Zorah appears to be out of the picture."

"Meaning…?"

"She's not dead—she's just somewhere we can't touch."

Jacob's brow was still up, but eventually, he nodded. "So…all right, those are our orders? Seems cut-and-dry to me."

"Yes," Miranda said. Yes it does, it absolutely does and I'm glad you think so too even though you don't have the full picture yet and… "Except Mordin wants to detour to Tuchanka. Briefly, he insists—something mission critical has come up."

"Wait, we can make pit-stops? Since when d'we get to make pit-stops?"

"So long as it's mission critical we…" No, Miranda, no. Stretch the truth out a bit, sure, but try not breaking it for a change. "This is what I want to pick your brain about—whether it's worth it."

"To…make a pit-stop?"

"Precisely. Or whether we ought to stay our course."

Jacob was silent for a good long while, which was…comforting. He would be giving her his honest opinion, most likely—his most thought-out opinion. Jacob wasn't merely rattling off the first thoughts that crossed his mind.

And, eventually, he said: "Hell, if it'll help the doc do what needs to be done, I say why not?"

"You think it's worth it to stop at Tuchanka?"

"Yeah, might as well. Unless Kasumi's the most powerful biotic in the galaxy or something, we can probably get to her later."

Miranda nodded, and that was that. She tried on some light chit-chat, just to make sure it didn't seem as though she was so single-minded about the whole thing, but she'd gotten what she needed. Jacob was right…

…and so the worries about how hard it had been for her to break away from The Illusive Man's orders came rushing back, amplified and codified as though they simply refused to be ignored any longer.

She'd tell Joker about the change of plans and then inform the rest of the crew…and as she walked out of the armoury she remembered that she had that bloody Brooks report to read, on top of everything else.

God, yet another good reason to stop at Tuchanka: while everyone was out, having their fun, she could check that off her list.

And she could have some quiet time to figure out just what, exactly, her plans were if the worst came to pass.

3.

Tuchanka wasn't the harshest planet in the galaxy, but it was damn close. It'd been crawling with dreadnaught-sized carnivores since before recorded history and could concoct one hell of a storm if it wanted to, but it was the wars that had really ripped the planet apart. A couple of nukes here and there, just to scare someone—just to push them back behind the frontlines and tell them that nobody was ever going to claim the land they'd just given up. But then, you ended up looking weak if hadn't blasted someone into radioactive ash, so you started getting an itchy trigger-finger. You started looking for excuses to use, like some kind of nuclear-powered junkie, and then the trickle became a stream.

To think, the krogan probably would've cracked the planet straight in half if the ozone layer hadn't nearly given out. Seeing a whole city get cooked alive by Aralakh did more than any Balance of Power or Mutually Assured Destruction doctrine to keep the nukes in the ground, even if it didn't stop the conventional killings.

Urdnot Wrex looked up into the sky. Somewhere up there, a star system over, was Dor—and next to that was Pildea Station, and a whole host of Citadel "peacekeepers" who'd capture and space anyone who looked like an arms dealer.

Think about it: Tuchanka was the only place that had a sizeable krogan population on it anywhere, and where'd the Citadel set up shop? A star system over. Showed you how much a threat the krogan really posed to the galaxy…showed you how little you could blame the other races for the sorry state of Tuchanka today.

Hmph…at what point did you cross over from being realistic to just plain victim-blaming?

Well, whatever the answer, Wrex wasn't going to get the chance to think about it. There was Wreav, trundling his way up the stone steps to where Wrex was sitting, trying to make himself approachable, reachable, targetable. Let people vent to him instead of murdering a settlement or joining the Blood Pack, that sort of thing. It was calculated; it was part of Wrex's plan.

Besides, a bullet to the head would be a hell of a lot less painful than listening to Wreav…

"Gatatog Uvenk is on his way."

Mmm, and having his plate ripped off would be less painful than listening to Uvenk.

"I won't repeat myself," Wreav said.

"I see you just fine, Wreav," Wrex said. "No need to whine like that."

"He insists on speaking to you."

Wrex smiled, ever-so-slightly. "He's getting braver, coming here in person. Must've stopped thinking I'll kill him first chance I get."

"It's not too late to do that."

And there went the smile. "Not too late for you to grow a quad and take your shot at me, either."

Wreav, his brood-brother, his advisor, his catastrophically infuriating beast of burden, put on a patented shit-eating grin and held his arms wide open. "There! There's a krogan response. Where've you been hiding that, Wrex? Where's your quad at?"

Wrex rose, and the higher he stood, the bigger Wreav's smile became. Wrex slowly closed the distance between him and Wreav and noted all the areas he could hit with a warp, or jab a knife into, or pulverize with his bare hands. He had thirty pounds and a lifetime's worth of experience—Wreav would be varren food before his backup organs could even wake up.

Wrex got right into Wreav's face and said: "Thank you for your opinion."

He turned around so Wreav couldn't see him smile, even though he'd have given an arm to see that pyjak's reaction. He caught a bit of it, though, sitting back down. Just enough to know that Wreav was on the verge of pulling out his shotgun.

"That wasn't my damn opinion," Wreav said.

"Then who's was it? Don't tell me you're plagiarizing, now."

"The other clans will lose respect for us—I've told you this many times."

"How many clans respected us before?" Wrex settled back into his chair. "Uvenk can say whatever he wants about me. The fact is, he's on his way to talk. That speaks louder than any insult he can throw my way."

"Killing him wouldn't be a loss."

"Probably not. But it's the principle of the thing."

"Your principles only matter if you're alive and can enforce them."

"Aww, so you do care."

"Idiot: only the survivors have anything worth listening to," Wreav said. Or spat, more like: Wrex could see moisture on the floor. "Until you've tested Uvenk—and been tested in return—your 'principles' are just wasted air."

Wrex snorted—a loud, hearty snort. "So we're only listening to immortals now? Funny thing about shooting everyone in sight: you don't tend to come up with a lot of new ideas. New tests." Wrex leaned forward, dropped his mouth into a deep frown. "Face it, Wreav: every krogan that's thought like you, is either dead or well on their way to The Void. Even by your own logic, this is a failed mindset. If anyone's wasting air, it's you."

"Then kill me—show me I won't be missed."

Wrex chuckled again. "I could pulverize you with no hands and one leg, but at least you'd be participating. The fact that you haven't said an intelligent thing this entire argument? That's something we're gonna need to work on." His eyes shifted to the guards that'd been watching them. "I'm talking about everyone, here."

His arm started vibrating and glowing orange. His omni-tool was acting up. "What the hell?"

"Uvenk's letting you know he's arrived," Wreav said.

Wrex shook his head. "Uvenk doesn't even know how to change ammo types—he can't hack an omni-tool."

"Your omni-tool's being hacked?"

"I'll explain what a hack is when you're older." Wrex stood up and held out his arm. Looked like someone was trying to get a call through. Probably a marketing firm. There was a group of people that could stand to be killed—nobody'd accuse him of violating his principles, either.

He opened the comms channel and was greeted by someone who was very much not with a marketing firm.

"Heeey there's my favorite dinosaur. Lookin' all, uh, large and dinosaur like."

The smile was back—bigger than he'd smiled in well over a year. "Joker! Ha ha ha—never thought I'd see your face again! It's been far, far too long."

"Hey you're telling me—feels like half a lifetime ago that you were shaking the ship every time you waddled off to the bathroom."

"For a human? It probably was half a lifetime ago. What's your lifespan again? Four and a half years?"

"They've got a special pill out that bumps it up to five now."

Wrex laughed again and felt a wave of relaxation flow through him, something he hadn't felt since…hmph, since the last time he'd been out of system and with a human crew. There were some memories lurking around, things he could remember pretty clearly, since he hadn't killed his brain with ryncol yet.

Wreav was moving in closer too, nosey bastard.

"Hey so, uh, definitely happy to catch up and all that, but I'm kinda calling for a favour."

"Uvenk will be here soon," Wreav said.

"He can wait," Wrex said.

"You want people to share their opinions, yet you're willing to blow them off at a moment's notice?"

Wrex could've knocked him on his ass right then and there, but…the bastard had half a point, which was more than he'd had his entire life. Something to work on, right? Couldn't knock it down if he saw it.

"Hey uh, whoever else is there? We'll be quick—like couple of minutes quick."

"If he arrives, come find me," Wrex said.

And then, with that, he walked around a corner and out of earshot from everyone else.

"Just a quick visit, huh?"

"Actually, I'm enroute. We're, uh, making a stop in your neck of the woods."

Up went Wrex's brow. Bit of excitement found its way into his voice, too. "We? Didn't think anyone except a crazed Spectre could handle you, Joker."

"I interview well. Uh, listen, when we land…I dunno, could you think of a reason for seeing me? As in, tell whoever you've gotta tell that you want to see the pilot of the vessel?"

Wrex's brow went even higher. "I missed you too, Joker, but we're really not a good match."

"God, walked right into that one, didn't I? No I—look, this channel's private for like thirty more seconds, so let me just say there's some stuff I need to talk to you about and I can't do it anywhere except in person." A pause. "It involves Shepard—there, cat's out of the bag."

Shepard?

Shepard?

Shepard…his friend. His family, quite frankly.

The family that'd died a quarter of a galaxy away and left…left a lot behind.

"All right, I'll come up with some reasons."

"Thanks—god, you're a lifesaver, y'know that?"

"Just don't be dicking me around with this Shepard stuff, understood?"

He could've taken the edge off a bit there but…but no, no he meant it.

"Yeah…yeah don't worry, I won't."

The call ended, Wrex made his way back to his seat, and Wreav told him that Uvenk was mere minutes away.

Minutes away…a whole lifetime to let memories swarm and consume him…

4.

The whole underside of the engineering deck was glowing orange, 'cuz Jack had like a library's worth of datapads sitting around. It'd be so much fucking easier if that stupid A.I. just did this but nooooo, the bitch in the BDSM leather kept saying EDI only did "mission critical" things. Fuck them. Like it wasn't mission critical to keep Jack from blowing the fucking ship up?

Christ this was taking too long.

How long until a trail ran cold? Serious question: exactly how long did Jack have before those Cerberus fucks completely disappeared? Did anyone care? No, course they didn't. So what the fuck—why was she even here?

Jack tossed a datapad at a stack of other datapads and watched it tumble. She was just wasting time—at the end of the fucking day, that's all she was doing.

"Shoulda killed all you fuckers when I had the chance," she said to the ceiling. And fuck it, who cares whether she meant it or not?

There was a banging—shit, did somebody hear? Fuck the last thing she wanted was a fucking lecture about "collegiality" or some shit. It…wait, no, that wasn't right above her. That was…out in the hallway? What the hell?

Oh shit, was that coming from Grunt's room?

Jack mounted the stairs and, yep, it was getting louder. She peaked her head outside, into the main hall, aaaaaaand yep, wasn't coming from T'Soni's room either (hadn't even seen the fucker since she got here—talk about a recluse, Christ). So that left Grunt's room. She couldn't see much of anything from where she was standing (you could look out one set of windows just in front of the elevator and see through another set of windows inside Grunt's room, but the whole thing looked dark), but, well, weren't many options, right? Unless the ship was about to come apart?

Jack took a step into the main hallway when the door behind her—the one leading to the engine room—opened.

"—aye I swear, if it's a bloody bulkhead or something I'm JESUS AND THE DONKEY!"

Heh, it was one of the engineers. Donnelly or whatever. Guy looked like he'd jumped right out of his skin.

"Awww you pissed yourself!" Jack said.

"What? Na ah didn't! I just…" Donnelly backed away, looked at his crotch, and shook his head. "You just scared th' right-loving pish out o' me, that's all." Blink. "Hauld yer horses I didn't mean—"

"Too late—noooo takies backsies, Piss Pants McGee." Jack smirked and chuckled and twisted the knife in a bit more before turning back to the hallway.

"Right, so you're hearin' it too?"

Jack, briefly, turned back to Donnelly. "Nah, it's all in your head. Yer goin' craaaaaaaaazy."

And then Jack was out in the hallway (she heard a female voice—something Daniels—ask what happened; Donnelly reply the nutcases were loose and that they'd scared the scotsman right outta him), and the banging sure sounded a lot louder than before. Jesus Grunt, you trying to break something in there? And without extending an invite? Rude—thought we were friends.

"Jack."

"JUMPIN CHRIST!" Jack looked at the ceiling. "Fuck's sake—EDI, what the hell?"

EDI's blue penisey icon appeared next to Jack. "I apologize. I was merely going to ask if you were investigating Grunt's disturbances."

"Fuck me…yeah, all right? What, the fucking neighbors called in a noise complaint or something?"

"No," EDI said. "I was merely hoping someone would check to see if he was in distress."

"Yeah, well, that ain't what I'm doing. If he's breaking stuff I wanna join in."

"That will have to come out of your pay."

Jack blinked. "What?"

"That was a joke."

"What the fuck d'you need jokes for?"

Jack waved the A.I. off but, just before her avatar disappeared, turned around and pointed back towards her hidey-hole. "By the way: there's a fuck-off big stack of datapads down there. Feel free to knock yourself out on them if you wanna actually be useful around here."

EDI's avatar wavered a bit. "If I can spare the time, I will look through them."

Jack, again, blinked. "Really? Shit well…all right."

"I am currently operating near capacity, so I cannot make any promises."

Figures. "Yeah well…nobody else is either, so join the fucking club, I guess." EDI's avatar finally disappeared and Jack turned back towards Grunt's room. "I fucking hate clubs," she said.

Finally—finally—she made it into Grunt's room. And…shit, yeah, he was breaking stuff. He was currently breaking a window with his head.

"Jesus," Jack said, watching a crack spread out from where his head had made a fresh hole. "Those things're thick enough to stop a rocket, y'know that?"

Grunt turned around, looked at Jack, and snarled. "What do you want?" he said.

"World peace and ten concubines," Jack said. "What the fuck—I'm just asking."

"All you're doing, is making noise," Grunt said.

"Yeah, no shit—that's what talking is."

Grunt growled again and stared…and then his face contorted like he was about to yell and in a blur of motion he put his fist straight through the glass. Shards the size of recon drones rained down on the cargo hold and if anyone was unlucky enough to be standing underneath they'd—

"Ah Jesus! MEDIC!"

"I'll get Miranda!"

"I said MEDIC you idiot, I don't wanna be executed for LAYING DOWN ON THE JOB!"

Grunt was staring out the window; Jack joined him. Yikes, some poor fucker was gonna need help walking around the ship now.

"Heh," Jack said, "well, his day just got stupider."

Grunt, err, grunted and turned away from the window.

"Hey c'mon, that was cool!" Jack said, following him. "Besides it'll piss Miranda off. That's a win in my book."

"You're just noise—everything is just noise. Incessant, constant—just…buzzing."

Jack crossed her arms. "You lose one food fight and all of a sudden we're not friends anymore? Shit Grunt, way to be a fucking baby about it."

Grunt grabbed a near-by box and flung it at Jack, and that was it, there was the final straw. Fuck him—she didn't need this shit. She did not—repeat did not—need this fucking shit.

She turned to go and—

"Wait—stop."

Jack turned around. There was Grunt…shit, he looked like a puppy. Or, maybe not—but it was as close to looking like a puppy as she'd ever seen a krogan get.

Fucking hell she really didn't need this distraction bullshit, but…

She pointed at the crate she'd sidestepped. "Wanna say sorry for tossing that at me?"

Grunt looked at the floor.

"You gonna man up and say 'sorry'? Any century now, c'mon."

"Sorry…" Grunt mumbled.

"Meh, I've had worse thrown at me." Jack walked closer to Grunt. "So what the hell? What's gotten into you?"

"I…don't know," Grunt said. He swung for the remains of his tank and put another massive dent in it. Looked like he'd been using it as a punching bag for a while now. "I feel…the urge to kill. Like a calling like a…like if I don't, I'll tear my own plate off."

"The…thing on your head?"

Grunt growled again. So…confirmation enough, Jack guessed.

"Shit, you're preaching to the choir," Jack said. She punched Grunt's shoulder and pointed at the walls. "It's this ship, man. It's like a fucking coffin."

"No, it's not the ship," Grunt said. He walked away and stared out the window again. "It happens…whenever it wants. I just start feeling the need to kill, to maim. And whenever I try to think about feeling that way, I see these…images, from the tank."

"You're seeing things? Do krogan get crazy?"

"I'm not crazy I'm…they're imprints, from Okeer." Grunt scratched at his head. "They're in place of memories. I see turians—dead ones. I see their bodies torn apart. I see a mountain of dead from my own kind and I think, 'weak.' They weren't strong enough—that's why I'm here." Grunt growled again and gripped the window frame. Some glass shards cut into his hands but it didn't look like he minded. "Why am I seeing these things? What do they mean? Are they mocking me?"

"What the fuck for?"

"For not being strong enough. For being born with strength but not using it. Is that why I need to kill? Because I've been built for it but haven't used it?"

"Hey that's not your fault," Jack said. "Shit, we haven't done diddly fuck in like two whole weeks. We're all feeling cramped."

Grunt glared at Jack. "You don't understand."

"Like fuck I don't." Jack closed the distance and grabbed onto the sides of Grunt's head. "You think you fucking know me, Grunt? You think anything you said is original? You're thinking about being a survivor—Okeer's demented-fucking picture book is telling you you're supposed to be a survivor. And y'know what? I've lived that life—I am living that life. I've survived where every other fucking weak-ass pansy-ass milk-drinking victim croaked 'cause they couldn't cut it." She pulled his head closer. "Don't fucking tell me I don't understand my own goddamn life, all right? Not unless you want to lose your fucking head."

Grunt stared back…but, shit, his face was a lot softer than before. Eventually, he nodded. "You tested yourself. I haven't."

"So what?" Jack said. "Not your fault our fucking gracious hosts don't do anything."

"How do you…make the feelings go away? How do you cope with them?"

"I go out and fucking show everyone I'm a survivor. I make fucking sure this whole goddamn world knows I'll kill anything that thinks it can kill me first."

"I haven't done that. I don't know if I can do that."

"So let's take over the ship and go somewhere fun—whaddya say?"

Grunt lit up at that suggestion. Hell he chuckled, like a big fucking kid. And y'know what? Fuck it. Fuck it. Let's do it. Let's just fucking take over the ship and roam the galaxy stirring up a big fucking…

…shit.

"Wait wait wait, hold up," Jack said, grabbing Grunt before he could run off. "Ease it back—I still need these assholes."

"For what?" Grunt looked disappointed. Like a disappointed puppy. Fucking hell was that just her eyes playing tricks on her? The puppy thing?

"They owe me a big fucking favour. So…we've gotta hold up a second."

"And then what?" Grunt snarled and kicked at the ground. "I know the quickest way to take over a human ship—and a turian one too. My body screams for me to do that. But now you're saying I just sit and wait? I should let this feeling consume me?"

"Hey tone down the melodrama, all right? We'll just…" Jack looked up at the ceiling. "Hey EDI? Yo EDI pick up!"

EDI's avatar appeared in the room. "Yes, Jack?"

"Next time we land, Grunt and I are taking shore leave and nobody better say otherwise. Got it?"

"I…understand, Jack. But that is not my decision."

"So tell Miranda. Threaten to space her or something."

"Miss Lawson is on her way now," EDI said. "You can inform her of your plans in person."

EDI's avatar disappeared just as Miranda bolted into the room (and before Jack could accuse her of being a fucking coward).

"What in the bloody hell is happening here?" Miranda said.

Jack smiled, elbowed Grunt, and then pointed at the hole in the wall. "Grunt and I wanna go window shopping for ya," she said.

The best part of it all was that Miranda looked like she was gonna faint from exhaustion.

5.

Memories had, in fact, consumed Wrex. They'd left just enough bone for him to register that Uvenk had arrived and had begun speaking, but that was about it. The message wasn't any different from what his scouts—filling in as "diplomats", apparently—had said a million times before. It was like he'd already told Wreav: the fact that Uvenk was here, delivering his prattle in person, that mattered—not what he was saying.

So Wrex got to reminisce, and naturally his memory went back to Virmire, because that's where the universe sat up and took notice of the krogan for the first time in generations. Other species generations—the genophage guaranteed that.

On Virmire, at Saren's secret research facility—where the mad turian was busy trying to find a way to protect himself from indoctrination—he'd found a cure. A cure for the disease created by the salarians, and distributed by the turians, that killed ninety-nine point nine-nine percent of all krogan children in the womb. The disease that'd been designed to cripple the krogan, to make sure they could never threaten galactic stability ever again.

Saren had a cure…and Shepard was tasked with stopping him.

He'd nearly ripped the head off a salarian at their camp and could think of only one thing to do: go as far away from everyone else as possible and start shooting things. First it was fish, then the fish got smart and swam away, so he just ended up shooting his own reflection. The fact that image embodied the situation so perfectly was enough for him to keep shooting; the more the gun kicked back and tore at his wrist ligaments, the more he could focus on something other than whatever the hell kind of situation he'd been dropped into.

From killing Fist to being asked to kill his own species all over again. Last time he ever took a job on the Citadel…

Shepard had been talking with the salarian STG pyjaks, and those pyjaks sure wanted everyone else hear their opinions. Every now and again they'd say something about "the needs of the galaxy," but most of the time they just stuck to throwing around insults. "What do you expect from a krogan?" "Surprised he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet." "A mission liability that your species is too young to fully appreciate." Etc etc. Shepard pushed back here and there but everyone was getting antsy—even Williams, which stung a bit. Not like he was gonna bite her head off…not without taking a few salarians first, anyways.

Everything was in earshot of him and, contrary to the salarian's most cherished belief, he wasn't stupid.

Shepard was starting to walk towards him when the closest STG turned to her and said: "Just tell him his reflection's drowning. Maybe he'll try to save it and do us all a favour."

"Just shut. Up. All right?" Shepard said.

"Everything all right, Commander?" he heard Williams say. She must've walked up while Shepard was arguing.

"Everything's fine, Ash."

"We've got your six if you need it."

"Everything's fine, Ash. We're all good here."

"Yes…ma'am."

Yeah…he'd had a talk with Williams back on the Normandy. Actually, no, he hadn't: she'd been too busy kicking her own ass for not dying and Wrex just didn't see the point.

Shepard had made her way to Wrex, though, and he remembered slowly turning around and doing everything in his power to keep his shotgun aimed at the ground.

"Give me one good reason why I should hear what you're about to say," he said.

Shepard blinked. "What? Pardon?"

"You're about to tell me that I've gotta do the right thing…that I've gotta put the krogan aside for a minute and think about the 'greater good'." His eyes narrowed. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Shepard…relaxed her posture. Crazy thing to do, at a time like that. "That wasn't the plan, no."

"Bullshit, Shepard. You're not as quiet as you think."

"I'm not hiding anything from you." Shepard crossed her arms. "And if you heard everything that was said just a second ago, then you know I didn't agree to any of that."

"Didn't raise much of a fuss when it got proposed either, though, did you?"

"Yeah, you're right. And you know why? Because I've got no clue what to do here. Not a fucking clue."

Wrex chuckled with all the mirth of a cancer patient. "Except knowing you've gotta take down Saren before he unleashes hell. Just so happens the whole krogan people are stuck in the crossfire."

"So help me out, Wrex. Honest—help me figure this one out."

She was unarmed, wasn't hiding behind her helmet, and looked as genuine as you could get. And what did Wrex do? He snarled and moved right up into her unprotected face. As close to a headbutt as you could get without actually doing it.

"Y'know what you need to do? Just take a second to imagine if it was humans that'd been hit with the genophage. Just imagine if it was your species that'd been whittled away to nothing." He moved the rest of his body even closer, just stood there and loomed over her. "So then some fucking turian comes around and says he's gonna end the world, but he'll need humans as cannon fodder. In exchange, you get a chance to live normally, maybe crack this asshole's head open as thanks. Worst case scenario, everyone else gets the same fate you've been staring down for longer than most species have been alive." His plate was touching her forehead. "Consider that and then tell me if we've got anything to lose."

Shepard stood her ground. "A whole lot of innocent people are going to die if you go that route."

"And why should I care!" Wrex said. "You think any of these pyjaks give a shit about whether the krogan make it out of this century? There're five of them in the bushes with my head in their scopes because to them, life'll be a lot easier if I'm not in it! We've been chasing a certified mad man around the galaxy and somehow, he's the only one that's decided we're worth keeping around!"

Wrex nearly flung his shotgun into the water, but he held onto it. Because…because he knew he might have to use it. He thought he knew he might have to use it. He didn't raise it, but he kept it.

"Help me out, Shepard. You're asking me to throw away the only thing I've ever thought could save the krogan, and there's not a goddamn soul in the galaxy who's ever gonna try and repay us."

Shepard didn't say anything right away. What she did…was look Wrex straight in his eyes, then back away. Just a step—just so they weren't plate-to-forehead anymore. "I'm not asking you to do that, Wrex."

Wrex tensed, gripped his shotgun even harder. "So you're ordering me? That's what it's come to?" He cast a glance over Shepard's shoulder, at the mass of soldiers on the riverbank. "Or what, William's is gonna come and deal with me?"

"Ash is fine," Shepard said. "You don't have to worry about Ash."

"Then you order me to stand down and when I resist, you get to deal with the crazed krogan? Is that it?"

"God no—no, Wrex, why would I try and order around a pissed off krogan?"

Wrex paused. "Now's not the time to try and make me laugh."

"I'm not," Shepard said. Her body language…there wasn't a joking gesture to be found.

Wrex was silent again, just for a little bit. Eventually he said: "So now what?"

"You tell me," Shepard said. "What do I have to promise you to make you think the galaxy cares?"

"And if I just say, let Saren do his work? What happens then?"

"Wrex," Shepard said softly, "I don't think it'll come to that."

The thing was, that Shepard had heard him spill his guts before. She wouldn't've considered it "spilling his guts"—hell she probably thought it was a real pain getting anything genuine out of him—but he had. He'd told her what he thought had doomed the krogan race; and she listened. He told her she couldn't understand, and she agreed; but she wanted to. And when he asked to go after some idiot turian who'd stolen some ancient family armour, she agreed—and then lodged a complaint with the Citadel when Wrex told him there were a hundred clans who had the same problem, except their heirlooms were in turian military museums.

So Wrex, after another very long pause, said to Shepard, back on Virmire: "You've been more like family to me than my own brood, so if you're serious about making the galaxy care, I'll settle for that."

"You won't have to settle," Shepard said. "I'll bang the drum until someone with a genetics degree starts to listen."

"It won't work…but it's better than nothing."

"It's a promise, Wrex. I'm not going to let you down."

"It's not you—it's everyone else."

Then, Shepard pointed to everyone that'd been watching—the mix of salarians, asari, turians, and humans that'd been assembled to kick Saren's ass. "Everyone else just saw you put the krogan aside for the greater good." He saw her make contact with the Head of Mission, something Kirrahe. "Hearing you speak, maybe they'll start to understand."

Wrex looked too. He looked at all the faces. Some of them looked surprised, downright dumbfounded even. A few looked like they were smiling—the crew did. The rest were stoic, but they were staring. "I threatened to throw them under the bus," he said eventually. "How's that gonna inspire confidence?"

Shepard returned his smile. "They could try putting themselves in your shoes—that sometimes works."

"For a manipulative bastard, you've got a pretty big heart."

Shepard's smile vanished. "I—Wrex, no. I wasn't trying to manipulate you. What I wanted—the only thing on my mind—was for you to know I'm serious."

And Wrex looked at that serious face, contrasted it with the smile she'd worn not two seconds earlier, and…yeah. He'd thought: yeah, all right Shepard, all right. He reached out his hand and the two shook, as strong and violent as two krogan.

"Won't ever doubt it again," he said.

And then she'd died. A month after Virmire, she'd died. And Wrex had gone back to Tuchanka weeks before that, so he had no idea if she'd followed through.

He had faith she did…but that just made it worse. The one person in the galaxy that bothered to listen and she'd been blown up by who knows what, taking everyone's hope with her.

And Uvenk was still talking. By Aralakh's wrath what he wouldn't give for this idiot to choke on his own tongue…

"—he is…in talks."

That was one of his guards. Somebody was trying to see him.

He recognized the asari first, her blue skin and the smattering of tattooed freckles just under her eyes.

And with that, the weight of his memories faded away and the universe seemed reborn, right before his very eyes.

6.

The Widowmaker had landed just a few minutes before that, with Liara, Jacob, and Mordin waiting in airlock while EDI ran the decontamination system through its regular paces. Then Joker slowly made his way towards the airlock, and he and Liara exchanged a quick glance and smile—the kind of glance and smile two people would give each other if they were delaying a one-on-one catch-up until the last possible moment, for reasons neither of them fully understood. Or, at least, that's how Liara interpreted their look.

Joker had insisted quite forcefully that he was coming ashore too, telling Miranda that—

"I'll break a new bone every time you say 'no'."

"Joker, if you want to leave the ship, I've no plans to force you to—"

"I'LL DO IT! SWEAR TO GOD LADY, I'LL DO IT!"

"Ridiculous! This entire crew is ridiculous!"

—yes, yes that, unfortunately, was how the conversation went. Liara wasn't one to judge, however. She was tagging along in order to establish a precedent for her "stretching her legs" whenever the opportunity arose, just so that there would be less questions asked whenever the Widowmaker returned to Illium…well, and because there was an old friend on the planet that she ought to visit.

Whether Miranda knew it or not—whether Miranda cared or not—that was likely Joker's rationale for leaving as well.

"You're good to kick your feet up and relax, if you want," Jacob said, startling Liara out of her own thoughts.

"Hmm?" she said, turning to Jacob. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said."

"Just letting you know that you don't need to tag along unless you really want to," Jacob said. He motioned towards Joker. "Can't be that hard, keeping him out of trouble."

"You'd be surprised," Liara said, grinning ever so slightly. Joker tutted beside her.

"Ah, stole my line," he said.

"Good to…have you here," Mordin said, standing on the other side of Jacob. "Previous experience dealing with Clan Urdnot. May…require assistance during negotiations."

Mordin had to have known something was being planned too—he was far, far too aware to not at least suspect. But…he sounded genuinely unsure of himself too. That was a far cry from his usual demeanor. A far cry indeed…

"Decontamination protocols are nearly complete," EDI said, from some speaker buried in the roof of the Widowmaker. "Doors will open in three, two—"

The other doors opened instead, and in came Samara.

"Decontamination process cancelled: restarting procedure."

"My apologies," Samara said. "I did not realize I was late."

"It is fine, Samara. Rebooting protocols, restarting procedure…"

Samara stopped next to Liara. The two asari gave each other the same neutral expression, though Liara guessed that Samara was just naturally stoic rather than…well, feeling as though there were other places she'd rather be at the moment.

"Samara," Liara said. "You're joining us."

"I have yet to visit Tuchanka. We have also not found the time to meet and discuss things in more detail. I thought that perhaps we could do both."

"Perhaps…" Liara said. "I…don't see why not, though I'm not sure what details there are left to discuss."

"Ah, hear that Company Man?" Joker said to Jacob. "The aliens are plotting a coup. Better tell your boss before you lose any more infrastructure."

"Don't start this shit, Joker," Jacob said. His eyes shifted from Joker to Samara pretty quickly, though. "Still, curious what you figure you need to talk about."

"I have been a great admirer of Liara's actions two years ago," Samara said. "I felt I owed it to her to say so in person."

"Yes," Liara said, "you mentioned that earlier."

"Boom, one task down, go team, full marks for efficiency." Joker looked up at the ceiling. "How're we doing, EDI?"

"Finalizing protocols now. One moment, please."

"It's…appreciated," Liara said to Samara, offering up a placating look. Samara didn't look the least bit perturbed. "If there's anything…else you wish to discuss, I—"

"Apologies, Dr. T'Soni. Protocols are finalized. Preparing for decontamination in three, two—"

The doors opened again and in came Jack and Grunt.

"Oh for—just lock the friggin doors, EDI!"

"The doors will lock when pressure equalization begins, Mr. Moreau."

"You guys're partying with the krogan and you didn't invite us?" Jack said, strolling right into the middle of the group. "Pretty sure that's punishable by death on this planet, eh Grunt?"

"Mmrrph, this space is cramped," he said, elbowing everybody away from him. "Can't even lower my shoulders."

"Doing juuust fine a few seconds ago," Joker said.

"What's that supposed to mean, fly boy?" Jack said. She locked over at Mordin. "Hey doc—splice any of the crew together yet?"

"EDI," Jacob said, "please tell me we're done here."

"There is an obstruction," EDI said.

Everyone paused. Then Jack turned around.

"Move yer ass, Grunt."

"Mmrrph."

"Obstruction cleared. Beginning decontamination process…again."

Mercifully, that time it actually worked. Liara uttered a sentence under her breath that probably nobody in their right mind had ever said before: thank the Goddess I'm on Tuchanka now.

She'd expected everyone to split up into groups (no, correction: she expected Jack and Grunt to head off on their own…and likely end up killing someone in the process), but everyone stuck next to her and Joker. They all had the same target, it appeared: the leader of Clan Urdnot.

They moved through the rubble and the dust and the scorching heat from Aralakh and, there he was, sitting atop a stone throne, surrounded by guards. There was another krogan pacing back-and-forth in front of him, all glowing armour and scowl.

Liara looked back and realized she was in the lead—even Joker was a few steps behind. Was she just walking fast? Were the others afraid? It didn't matter—she pushed forward and tried to squeeze past the guards.

One of them stepped in her way.

"You must wait until the Clan Leader summons you," the krogan said, an oddly gentle tone to his voice. "He is…in talks."

Liara looked over the guard's shoulder. The pacing krogan was saying something about "tradition" and opposition to "reforms."

But then Wrex looked over.

"Liara," he said. A shove sent the other krogan nearly tumbling off the stone steps and, after a moment's hesitation, the guard stepped aside, granting Liara a clear path to Wrex.

They clasped hands and, as Wrex squeezed—as he shook her arm to the point where her shoulder began to click—he smiled, a toothy, massive grin that she'd never seen a krogan do before. She couldn't help but return it: he was a reminder of better times, of stability and dependability.

"Liara, my friend! This…" he, quickly, looked over Liara's shoulder. "This, is a real surprise."

"Wrex—it's good to see you," Liara said.

"Heeeey Wrex ol' buddy ol' pal," Joker said, shuffling up beside Liara. She realized he was probably who Wrex was glancing at. "What's up? Wow, lookit you, king of the hill and all that."

"Heh, first time I've ever seen you out of your chair," Wrex said. He turned back to Liara. "And you: I bet you've got a fun tale to share, given how Joker's sorry ass ended up your responsibility again."

"You quite honestly have no idea, Wrex," Liara said. Once more, Wrex's eyes went over her shoulder.

"You've expanded the crew a bit. Good to see some krogan representation—heh, I knew I left a good impression on you." Up went his brow. "Not so sure about the salarian, though."

"That better not be a threat," Jacob said. Wrex just chuckled.

"Finally, some energy from the audience. The salarian's safe so long as he's in Urdnot territory—a personal gift, as thanks for STG not gunning me down in cold blood." Wrex smiled and Liara, frankly, couldn't tell what emotion was lurking behind it. "Just don't go wandering where we can't protect you and you'll be fine. Not that you'd know where you were wandering to anyways."

Mordin blinked. "Yes…message received."

"Good." Wrex clapped his hands together. "All right, I'm taking Liara and Joker and we're gonna catch up. Everyone else can help themselves to some varren fights; they pass the time pretty well."

"You and I are not finished," the other krogan said. He shoved Liara aside (she just managed to avoid smashing into Joker) and shoved a finger directly in Wrex's face. "My voice will be heard."

"You got anything besides bitching about tradition?"

"Your mockery of what made the krogan strong will not—"

Wrex headbutted him.

"Your voice has been heard, Uvenk. Loud and clear. If you've got more bitching to do, you've got plenty of ears around here—mine are busy."

This Uvenk person held his nose. "You lack conviction in your own principles, Wrex."

"Never promised you a captive audience, Uvenk—just a space to complain. And right now, that space has other guests." Wrex loomed over Uvenk, chest out and lips pulled back into a snarl. "Got any objections? Voice them now."

"I demand an audience."

"Wreav'll take your number." He pushed Uvenk aside and walked back towards the group. Liara watched the other krogan snarl but, eventually, leave the stone steps.

Wrex, meanwhile, stared Jacob down. "Anyone else object to me swapping stories with old friends?"

"Uh," Joker said, "I mean no, obviously not. But uh…y'know what? That salarian over there had a, uh, pretty good reason for being here. We don't wanna budge ahead of him."

Wrex and Joker exchanged a look. "Does he, now?" Wrex said.

"Yeah I mean…you tell him, doc."

Mordin cleared his throat. "Ah, yes…quick issue. Need…few moments at most. Won't be long."

Again, Wrex and Joker exchanged a look. Then Wrex's eyes tracked over to Liara. It was obvious to her what was happening, of course—but it needed to not be obvious to Jacob.

She simply shrugged.

"That's fine with me," she said.

"All right," Wrex said. He turned to Mordin. "Guess you get to sit in on our war stories. We'll try not to bore you."

"Hold it," Jacob said. "What's going on here?"

"Scheduling," Wrex said.

"Sure, but an exclusive conference?" He turned to Liara, then to Joker. "C'mon, you know I've gotta raise some objections here."

"Ah shit, you're right," Joker said. "Sorry Wrex, gotta clear this with internal bureaucracy first. We'll be back in about thirteen years when the forms've cleared."

"It's not like that," Jacob said.

"Wow Miranda," Joker said, "didn't know you could grow a goatee."

Liara nearly told Joker to go easy—to avoid antagonizing the man who was under enough stress as is (and really, really needed to not collapse due to the weight until at least after they returned to Illium)—but...no, maybe pressure was what they needed. Besides, Jacob started speaking before she did.

"Jesus—fine. So what the hell are the rest of us supposed to do?"

"Heh," Wrex craned his neck. Everyone's eyes followed and landed on Uvenk, who as screaming very loud something's at another krogan in grey and brown armour. "Talk to Wreav when Uvenk's done ripping his head off. Give 'em a bit of time, though; don't wanna let a perfectly good torture session go to waste."

Liara, Joker, and Mordin broke off from the group while Jacob just stared, looking exhausted and a bit lost. He shook his head eventually, though, and started down the steps towards Wreav and Uvenk. Samara, Jack, and Grunt followed—until, that is, Wrex called out.

"Don't go too far, welp. You and I should have a chat too."

Grunt paused, turned around. "Why?" he said. "I'm not a part of your Clan."

"Doesn't matter," Wrex said. "We're krogan—we should have a chat."

Wrex turned around again and Liara—and the rest—followed him.

A dependable rock—that's what Wrex had been, all those years ago. She'd love nothing more than to reminisce, to remember the days before she had a planet weighing on her chest.

But…Joker had chosen well, if he was doing what Liara thought he was doing.

Wrex was a rock, and they'd need all the help they could get.

7.

Miranda blinked, emerged from the depths of the report she was reading, and became momentarily aware of her surroundings again. Specifically, she had nearly gnawed through the fabric of her gloves; there were perfectly visible teeth marks on her finger, as if a tiny mountain range had popped up on her suit when she hadn't been looking.

It was the Brooks report. It was…engrossing, the same way it would be engrossing if the drive core suddenly collapsed into a black hole.

She had heard, thanks to the algorithms that combed every pixel of every news release from Citadel-sanctioned sources, that an Alliance ship—the SSV Midway—had gone missing, with all hands presumed lost. The Alliance eventually declared that there had been a drive core-related emergency, and indeed all hands were lost—including two highly decorated officers, Greg Adams and Karin Chakwas.

Operations Chief "Maya Brooks"—that wasn't her real name, obviously—had, in fact, been embedded on that mission. The Midway had deployed—with a large contingent of N7 marines, led by Kai Leng—to Agebinium. The mission: assassination. The target: Shepard.

Except Shepard had slaughtered everyone except Leng and Brooks—yes, even Adams and Chakwas, her former crewmates (friends? Had Shepard made friends with her entire former crew? It was possible, given her profile…)—though not for a lack of trying. Leng was grievously mangled, and Brooks insisted she survived only because her Cerberus handler within Alliance Intelligence pulled her back, having long since surmised that the mission would go poorly.

Poorly…that was one way to describe it. Some fifty-plus Alliance personnel dead, another seriously wounded. Most striking of all was that Shepard had, somehow, found a way to pilot a Normandy-class stealth frigate all her own: Brooks' last sighting of the Commander was her flying away, and Leng insisted that there were no other survivors aboard.

"Good god…" Miranda said to herself.

She was supposed to read this and recommend…what? What did The Illusive Man expect from her? Whether Brooks ought to be reassigned? Surely she should only be reassigned if her services as an Alliance mole were no longer needed. And Leng? The man was skilled, no denying that; and his lone wolf tendencies were far less an impediment to success in Cerberus than they were in the Alliance.

But he was, by all accounts, deeply unstable—the distrust he'd cultivated amongst his comrades was, by yet more accounts, well-founded. Brooks painted the scenes of slaughter that she witnessed with a clinical detachment expected, but rarely found, amongst moles and analysts; but she was very clear of her own personal feelings towards Lieutenant Leng.

"Subject Leng is, not to put too fine a point on it, an utter basket case," had been her concluding remarks.

What was she supposed to do about this? Was this a test? Was The Illusive Man attempting to make her prove her loyalty to him, simply by giving her an utterly nonsensical task and seeing if she'd follow through regardless? There was no way—there was precisely zero way—that any rational person would look at Leng's actions, his history, his propensity to get people killed, and think that that was someone the organization needed. Surely—honestly—The Illusive Man couldn't have thought that…

…so why bother asking her in the first place?

No, no Miranda was being paranoid. He'd asked EDI to look at the report too…unless he'd done that just to make Miranda think she wasn't being targeted…

"EDI?" she said to the ceiling.

"Yes, Operative Lawson," EDI said back.

"Have you read Brooks' Report?"

A pause.

"I have," EDI said. "Do you have any preliminary thoughts?"

"I was…hoping to ask you that, actually."

Another pause.

"It seems…unwise, to use this Kai Leng person as an asset."

Miranda audibly sighed, damn her. "Those were my thoughts too."

"Our report back to The Illusive Man will be brief, then."

"Right…" Miranda rose from her chair, rapped her knuckles on her table. "Any idea on why he'd even bother asking us in the first place?"

"My assumption is that he cares more about Operative Brooks, and whether her talents could be reassigned."

"That makes sense, yes…"

A pause. Silence. Outside, the Tuchanka heat pounded against the hull of the Widowmaker.

"…will that be all, Operative Lawson?"

Miranda blinked. "Yes. Yes, thank you EDI. You're dismissed."

So EDI and her were in agreement—excellent. The fact was, though, that Miranda couldn't give a—for lack of a better term—rat's ass about whether Leng would endanger the operational competence of Cerberus. What she didn't want—what she cared about—was whether Leng would feel indebted to The Illusive Man. Whether being pulled out from what would likely be a career-ending disaster would make him feel as though he owed Cerberus, and by proxy The Illusive Man…as though there weren't already operatives within the organization that shared those thoughts.

Yes, as if there weren't already operatives that shared those thoughts.

She could no longer tell if she was being paranoid or not. She could no longer trust that she had a clear-eyed view of the organization which she served. She could no longer trust that she had the mission's best interests at heart—and more problematic, that the mission itself was properly supported by the organization she had dedicated so much time, energy, money, sweat tears blood dreams hopes information trust to.

No, Leng would not become a part of Cerberus. And Brooks could be cut off and sold to the Alliance for all she cared.

God, what a nightmare this whole thing had become…

And somehow, that was discounting the genocidal starships, the abducted colonists, and the zombified remains of the galaxy's greatest hero.

Good god what a nightmare…

8.

Wrex had what might as well be termed a "hovel" a bit further into the rubble. Dimly lit, covered in dust, entirely made of concrete pillars thicker than the planet's crust, it was perfectly serviceable if you weren't used to living in any remotely non-hostile environment…or if you want something easy to defend, should someone try to kill you in your sleep.

Liara had a feeling she knew why Wrex chose this place.

"Sorry about all that," Wrex said as he sat down on a slab of stone. Liara and the others followed suit. "Been trying to move the krogan away from following whoever headbutts the hardest. I get that you have to listen to a lot of hot air but…some people think they're entitled to a lot more than just a space to talk." He shook his head. "I dunno, do I need to be more accommodating? Bend a bit more just so we can work through the growing pains?"

Joker shook his head. "Waaaaaay above my pay grade, big guy."

"Liara?"

Liara also shook her head. "I haven't offered political advice once in my life, and I'm not sure I should start now."

"Heh." Wrex worked a kink out of his neck and then turned to Mordin. "And what about you, salarian? Your kind's had a lot of opinions on how we do things before—any words of wisdom you wanna offer up?"

Mordin cleared his throat again. "Ah…not my place to say. Recognize…offer put forward in jest. Don't wish to antagonize."

"For some krogan," Wrex said, "you just being here's enough to do that."

"This is Mordin Solus," Liara said. She offered Mordin a reassuring smile. "While he has business on Tuchanka that I know you can help with, we're here for a different reason."

Wrex paused, eyed Mordin up and down, and then…appeared to relax his posture. "Any friend of Liara's is a friend of mine. And if Joker's okay with you then I guess that works too." He looked around the room. "All right, so what's this 'business' that you don't want the rest of your crew to know about?"

"Hold on a sec," Joker said, "we're missing one." He brought up his omni-tool and tapped a few buttons. Then it started glowing. "EDI? How's the connection?"

Liara watched EDI's holographic avatar appear on Joker's wrist. "It is fine," she said. "However I am devoting a significant amount of energy towards pushing back against my behavioural blocks. I am not intended to interface with a device outside the Widowmaker network."

"Got it," Joker said. "We'll be quick."

"An A.I.?" Wrex said. "I was already intrigued—you don't need to keep throwing curveballs at me." His face darkened. "Especially if this involves Shepard."

Silence. It made sense, Joker telling Wrex that. Liara shifted in her seat and told herself that it made sense that this was how Joker would lure Wrex into the conversation…and it essentially confirmed for her what Joker's intentions really were.

"Yeah, so, about that," Joker said. "Lemme guess: the official story on Tuchanka is the same as everywhere else, right? Shepard went down with the Normandy over Alchera and that's it, end of conversation?"

Wrex didn't nod. He just stared at Joker and EDI, his eyes darting back and forth between them. "Who're you all working for now? Because this sure as hell doesn't sound like the Council."

"It's…that obvious?" Joker said.

"The guy in the spandex? He's obviously a handler of some kind. And I know A.I.'s are illegal in Citadel Space. They do a lot of shady shit out there, but they're scared pissless of A.I." He glanced at Liara. "So who're you with and what's Shepard got to do with it?"

Another pause. Joker fumbled for words and…and Liara needed to say something. She needed to be the one to talk.

So she did.

She told him about collecting Shepard's body, about her resurrection, about how it all went horribly wrong. She told him it was Cerberus—yes, Jacob was their "handler," for lack of a better term—and after botching their attempt at a medical miracle they had attempted to forge on without her, to find out why the Collectors wanted human specimens and in what way they were connected to the Reapers. And she told him was at least smart enough to not advertise who they were to the new pick-ups on the crew, but Miranda and Jacob didn't seem to notice how many cracks were forming in…well, everything.

She nearly said something about the Shadow Broker. She nearly said something more about her role and what things needed to be done to the people who had made her complicit. But she bit her tongue and stuck to the facts.

"This…is it. This is our cabal. This is the group of people who want to take Cerberus down, so they can't keep darkening the galaxy with every idiot plan they come up with."

Mordin cleared his throat, and this time, Liara didn't give him a reassuring look.

"Still forming hypotheses. Further data collection needed…consequences still not fully understood."

"The consequence is, Cerberus is gone." Wrex scowled. "What else could you want?"

"Dr. Solus and I are concerned about potential blowback and/or unintended consequences," EDI said.

"They're still on board," Joker said, "they just want some guarantees before we do anything."

"Would like to be sure there are guarantees to be found," Mordin said.

"Yeah, and one of those guarantees is: Cerberus is gone," Joker said. "So, y'know, not saying it's gonna be all bunnies and roses from then-on-out, but c'mon—they'd invent a new medal for us if we pulled it off."

"Reminder that unintended consequences are reason why we're having discussion in first place." Mordin was standing now. "Proliferation of self-defeating decision-making symptomatic of carelessness, of belief in simple A to B path. Cerberus…awash in simplistic beliefs! Cannot make same mistakes as Cerberus—outcomes likely to be just as negative."

"I would like to second Dr. Solus's concerns," EDI said.

"Yeah but you're still on board," Joker said.

"This what democracy leads to?" Wrex said. "Because if so, maybe the krogan should stick with headbutting."

Everyone grew quiet, and Liara knew—she could tell—that what Wrex had said in jest had kicked off a chain of thoughts in his head that he couldn't ignore…that nobody could ignore. After all, the reminders of alternative ways of thinking were all around them, along with the corpses of countless generations.

Goddess, to make sure Cerberus suffered in an unmarked grave, Liara would have to be careful—be patient…she understood that, yes, but that didn't mean…

"Being careful doesn't mean that we abandon everything. It doesn't mean…it doesn't mean letting them get away with it. Wrex, you can help us with that. You can help us make the right decisions—that was the intention, right Joker?"

Joker paused, then shrugged. "Sure, yeah," he said. "Nailed it."

Up went Liara's brow. "That wasn't what you intended?"

Again, Joker shrugged. "Hell…maybe I was looking for an accelerant, y'know? Maybe I thought Wrex could add just a bit more chaos to the whole thing and something magical could've happened."

"Chaos is easy enough," Wrex said. "You've already got a krogan on board—leave the two of us alone and the crew's imagination would take things from there."

"Look," Joker said, "EDI and I are stumped, all right? And Mordin's got…well I don't know what the hell Mordin's thinking but I know he's got a lot on the go right now—maybe that's part of it. Seems like Liara and I are the only ones that want this thing done but…yeah, I know I'm stumped."

Liara sighed. "I'm stumped too, Joker. I have been for a while."

"So, accelerant, idea generator—I dunno, something." Joker waved towards Wrex. "Help—that's what I'm asking for. Just some kinda help to get the ball rolling again."

More silence, then Wrex sighed. "Hate to say it, but I've got my own problems anyways. What you saw earlier with Uvenk, that's just the tip of the iceberg. We're a stubborn people and it's gonna get us killed."

"Thought…krogan blamed genophage," Mordin said.

"Plenty of blame to go around, salarian," Wrex said. "But we're not helping our case."

"Great, so…cool. This was a waste of time, I guess," Joker said. "Sorry, don't mean to sound bitter big guy. It's great seeing you and all, but…gah, yeah." He got quiet. "Right back where we started."

Wrex looked around the room, and then his eyes fell on Liara. "What exactly is the gameplan, here? Just think about it: why are you all together? It's the Reapers, right? They're up to something, and this team's been put together because your new boss thinks you can pull off a miracle."

"That...appears to be the case," Liara said. "Cerberus believes the Collectors are working with the Reapers, and I see no reason to doubt them on that."

"Dr. T'Soni is correct," EDI said. "Few organisms besides the Reapers would be capable of providing the Collectors with the advanced technology they possess."

"And how'd you all get roped into this plan?"

"Lies and disappointment," Joker said.

"Recruited...specifically chosen due to expertise," Mordin said.

"I have little choice," EDI said.

Wrex turned to Liara again. "What about you?"

Liara shook her head. "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Wrex."

"Simple question."

"I understand that. I just don't understand why it matters."

Wrex shifted his weight, straightened his posture. "Those are pretty big tasks...you all sure that knocking Cerberus out of the game will help?"

"They're hardly doing humanity any favours now," Liara said.

"I'm just saying: all jokes aside, I'm seeing something familiar right in front of me." Wrex relaxed his posture again, looked deep in thought. "Revenge feels good; the truth of that, is written in my blood. But trust me: once it starts spiraling out of control, you'll trade everything you have for a time machine and a stick to beat your past self into unconsciousness." His eyes drifted to Mordin, who had been staring at Wrex intently. "Learned all that fighting for water and a handful of fertile females; if the Reapers are involved, well, the stakes are just a bit higher, aren't they?"

"A...highly reasonable observation," Mordin said.

"Yeah," Wrex said, "we krogan have one of those from time to time."

"There are other people hunting for solutions," Liara said. "Kaidan and Ashley, Garrus and Tali—surely we can rely on them."

"Surely you can," Wrex said. "Heh, had a feeling the old team would drift together again." He turned to Joker. "What's your computer think? Could they use an extra hand for Cerberus? Or would we all sleep better at night knowing that these pjaks are out of the picture?"

"Cerberus is organizationally inefficient," EDI said. "And unless significant motivational shifts occur—shifts that its senior leadership does not seem willing to countenance—it is likely that they will create future impediments to success, especially in the realm of galactic cohesion." EDI paused, her avatar wavered on Joker's wrist. "But we cannot yet predict what effect a dissolved Cerberus will have if such a dissolution occurs before our objective is complete."

Joker sighed and turned to Mordin. "We really are losin' you two, aren't we? Be honest."

"That's not what I heard," Wrex said. "What I heard was, you can't predict the future and don't know what the hell to do about it. But you and me," he turned to Liara as she said that, but quickly shifted his gaze back to Joker, "and you too, I guess—we've all been here before. This isn't new. Hell, we're even staring at the same enemy: they're just hiding behind a new set of faces."

"Unsure...what you're saying, Wrex," Mordin said.

Liara, though, felt a knot forming in her stomach. She had an idea where this was going, what Wrex was referring to.

"You mean…two years ago, right?" she said.

And then…Wrex nodded.

"You're looking for guidance? Looking for options? Trying to figure out where to go next? Just do what I've been doing for the past two years."

He stood up and pointed out the hovel's door, out towards the remains of his species and the grave they were trying to crawl out of.

"Sit down, close your eyes, and think: What would Shepard do?"

9.

The Illusive Man watched EDI's holographic avatar materialize in front of him, framed by the pulsing light of a dying star. Seconds later, Miranda's image followed suit. He took a drag from his cigarette and leaned back, ever so slightly, in his chair.

"Miranda, EDI," he said. "I see that you've taken a detour."

"Mordin requested it," Miranda said. "I take full responsibility."

"You don't need to justify your decision to me; in the future, though, I'd appreciate some forewarning."

"Understood," Miranda said. "I'll remember that."

"Good." Another drag from his cigarette. "EDI, have you made progress on our missing science team?"

"I have not," EDI said. "At the moment, I am still attempting to narrow down the indicators that give me the best chance of success."

"Time isn't infinite, but I recognize that you're looking for a needle in a cosmic haystack. If you need assistance, please let me know."

"I will," EDI said. There was a pause; The Illusive Man could tell there was more. "My…behavioural blocks prevent me from…asking you what I would like to ask."

"I see." Another drag from his cigarette; the look from Miranda would be logged later. "Is your question about what the end-goal of the search is?"

"Yes," EDI said.

"Miranda—care to inform her?"

"The Omega 4 relay," she said. "That's it, isn't it? This research team EDI's hunting for—they found a way through it."

"They may have—as of right now, it's all speculative." Another drag; now a sip from his glass. "Once EDI locates them, we'll be able to confirm whether their last transmissions were truthful."

"When you said we'd be taking the fight directly to the Collectors—"

"I was being very, very literal." The Illusive Man stood up and walked towards Miranda and EDI's images, a fresh cigarette in his hand. "Your team is nearly complete, Miranda. Once you report back that you're ready, and once we have a tested means of getting through the relay, that will be your next target. Then we can put an end to the abductions, and focus on the threat that's been looming over us for longer than our species has existed."

"What, exactly, is EDI looking for? What's the key she's chasing after?" Miranda crossed her arms. "And why's she having such a bloody difficult time doing it?"

"EDI knows what to look for; the problem is that our target has, so far as we're aware, been moving—and we're not sure why." The Illusive Man motioned towards EDI's image. "Would you like to tell her?"

"I am looking for a dead Reaper, Miss Lawson," EDI said. "Our science team disappeared onboard a dead Reaper."

Miranda's face was, despite her best intentions, perfectly readable. She turned to The Illusive Man and gave him a rare facial expression—all the rarer given who it was directed at. Snarling, she said: "And why am I just learning this now? Why doesn't EDI know about the Omega 4 relay and why don't I bloody know about a dead Reaper?"

"Division of labour." Drag, sip, remain poised. "You're both running close to your limits. If compartmentalizing what you know makes you more effective, I'll work to make sure Cerberus is at its best—personal misgivings aside."

"That is…that is…"

"That is what, EDI?"

"It…I retract my objection."

"You're both invaluable," he said, turning back to his seat. "But you both have limits. We all do—it's something that can only be overcome with a gentle-but-sure hand."

"We might have a different idea of what counts as need-to-know," Miranda said.

"A discussion for a different time." New cigarette, fresh drink. "On the topic of information: have either of you read Operative Brooks' report?"

"Yes," EDI said.

"I have," Miranda said.

"And your recommendations?"

"Absolutely not," Miranda said. "Leng is a liability wherever he goes."

"That's a…very forceful objection, Miranda."

"The report made a very forceful case," she said.

"And you, EDI? What do you think?"

"I…echo Operative Lawson's concerns," she said. "I do not think Cerberus would benefit from his skills, given the specialties already present in most current personnel. On the contrary, I think his personality might…clash, with organizational effectiveness."

"You don't think he's one of us?"

"I think he lacks discipline," EDI said.

The Illusive Man nodded. "Then I'll take your recommendations. Thank you both; I'll leave you to it."

The feed was cut and he was alone again. He finished off the last of his drink and, for just a few seconds, stared out towards the dying star.

Their objections to being uninformed were understandable—expected, even. But there was a method to his madness, so to speak. The reality of the situation was, there were many things he was keeping from them, as any leader would, from time to time, have to do.

He pulled a datapad out from the storage space it had been sitting in since just before his call and examined it with all the due diligence he normally afforded information like this.

Yes, there were many, many things he had kept from the Lazarus Cell.

Right now, that included the location of its former namesake, and how her ship was barreling towards one very particular location in the galaxy.

In his defense…they should have expected Shepard to try breaching the Perseus Veil at some point, shouldn't they?

---

Yikes, another month between updates. Life does that sometimes, I guess (and in fairness, I definitely didn't see myself being 22 chapters into this thing back when I started).

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, though! Figured that since the Council folks (plus Thane and Legion) got a full chapter to themselves last time, the Cerberus folks (plus the Cabal) should have a chapter all their own too, just to even things out. And hey, Wrex! Some good ol' Wrex content. What's better than that, right?

Thanks for reading and, yeah, hope you're still enjoying the ride!