The Primarch

Shepard darkened the visor of her breather helmet, increasing the UV shielding and saving herself the headache waiting to happen. She glanced at Garrus, head uncovered as he turned his face up toward Palaven's sun and hummed. She watched him, love bubbling up in her chest as she studied the lines of his mandibles and crest against the harsh rays. He glanced her way and caught her staring, mouth plates quirking into a smile as he reached out. She took his hand, and he pulled her into his side, keeping her there securely in his embrace as he took a deep breath and looked around.

"Welcome to Cipritine, Palaven's bustling capital city full of every flavor of politician you might hope to meet during your visit." He hummed and glanced down at her. "Where do you want to start?"

"Well," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Mordin before turning her attention back to Garrus, "I did tell the primarch I was on my way."

Nodding, he waved his free hand out toward a low, sprawling compound made of metal and muted shades of stone. "Should I call ahead? Clear the way for our arrival?"

She smirked, slipping her arm around his waist and started walking. "Nah. I'm a Spectre, and he's expecting me. Worst case scenario, I get to call him in front of an obstinate subordinate and put them to shame."

"Why does that possibility bring you so much glee?" Jane snorted, shaking her non-existent head. "You've got issues, and they have absolutely nothing to do with me."

Shepard rolled her eyes and thought, "Don't pretend it wouldn't bring a smile to your face."

Garrus chuckled, the sound rumbling through his armor and into her side. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She grinned up at him before humming and turning her attention back to the neat rows of fortified buildings. "Sorry we couldn't bring Jack, but turian politics and mandatory full-suits with shielded helmets just isn't her cup of tea."

"Now that," Jane said, her laughter echoing in the back of Shepard's mind, "would bring a smile to my face. Christ, she'd hate that so much."

"You two need to make up and play nice," Shepard thought.

"Yeah." Jane's mood sobered. "I'll keep working on it. I'd hoped making good with Garrus would bleed over, but I should've known better. Jack's her own woman, through and through."

"Hmmm. Yeah, it's probably for the best." Chuffing, Garrus looked down at Shepard as they walked. "I'd have liked to show her home, but my father's friendship with the primarch will only buy me so much leeway. I don't think he'd be very fond of Jack's penchant for blatant disrespect and threats of violence."

"I doubt few, if any, on Palaven would find her as charming as we do. And she wouldn't give a damn in the slightest. Like Jane just said: Jack's her own woman, through and through." Shepard grinned and then gently cleared her throat. "So, uh … since you are home …."

"That's a good idea." Jane hummed. "We never had the chance to visit Palaven, but I'm sure it'd have done him some good. Especially after Omega."

He fluttered his mandibles and turned his attention back to the building ahead of them before nodding. "Yeah, if we have time." He swallowed, mandibles tucking in against his face. "It's been too long since I've seen my mother; she may not remember me right away." A soft keen laced its way through his subvocals. "I'm sure Sol will find a way to make sure I understand it's my fault, no matter my reasons."

"I'm told family is good for that." Shepard stopped, tugging him around to face her. "They'll both be happy to see you, Garrus," she said when his gaze searched her visor. "So will your father, even if he isn't the best at expressing it. And they're proud of the good you're doing in this fight, too."

Brow plates dipping inward, he kept his voice low as he said, "I didn't think you'd ever met them?"

"We haven't." She shrugged and moved closer, wrapping both arms around his waist and lacing her fingers behind his back. "But I know what your dad would've said if things had stayed the same for you on Omega and had you called him when you thought you were facing the end. And I know your sister loves you, even if she gives you shit about your mother. She doesn't really get the seriousness of what we're doing, and hey, that's kind of a good thing. Dealing with your mom's illness is the worst thing she's ever had to see, so far. You've helped keep her safe from the horrors we see on a daily basis."

"I know," he said softly, mandibles fluttering as he glanced around, but his eyes didn't seem to actually be seeing anything until they found her again. "I'm not going to be able to keep Sol safe once the reapers get here. Maybe I'm doing her a disservice by not sharing all of the horrible details with her." Humming, he shook his head. "I don't know. At least I know no good could come from telling my mother, and my father wouldn't believe me, anyway."

"I think he might, now." She tipped her head toward her shoulder. "Now that the Council isn't hiding behind a wall of lies."

"Maybe." Garrus nodded slowly. "If it helps keep them safe, it's worth a try, at least."

"Mmm. You know what else I know?" She arched an eyebrow even though he wouldn't be able to see it beyond her blacked-out visor. "I also know you and Mordin helped clear the way for cutting edge medical trials for Corpalis Syndrome and secured free access for participants with samples of collector tissue, STG clearance, and anonymous donations." She watched him for a couple of seconds as he stared at their feet. "Which, by the way, you totally could've talked to me about, and I'd have been more than happy to help push things through. I'm still happy to do whatever I can to help, including just listening to you when you need to talk about your mom."

"You have enough going on." His mandibles fluttered as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against her helmet. "You worry about so much already, Shepard. And I guess … I guess it doesn't feel right to burden you with this when you lost your own parents long ago," he said, the distress in his subvocals louder than the whispered words.

"And yet," she said with a sigh, "you expect me to tell you every little thing, and you spend every waking moment—hell, probably every sleeping moment, too—worrying about me."

He chuffed but still didn't really look at her. "That's different."

"No, Garrus, it's not." She gave him a little shake, and he squirmed. "That's love."

"May want to keep moving," Mordin said. "Displays of affection drawing attention."

Shepard glanced around, taking in the faces of several turians watching the two of them. Unlike Shanxi, their faces didn't scream hatred aimed at her, but they didn't exactly seem full of the warm fuzzies to see a turian and human snuggling in the middle of the capital city. Not that she expected the turians to be all too happy to see anyone sharing an intimate moment in the public eye. She dropped her hands to her side and took a step back, but Garrus wasn't having it. He let out a soft growl and threw his arm back over her shoulders, pulling her into his side again as he looked on defiantly and started walking again.

Grinning, she slid her arm back around his waist, letting her gauntlet rest on the plates of armor covering his protruding hip.

"Shepard," Fedorian shook her hand before waving toward a pair of couches situated around a table across the room from his desk. "Please, have a seat. I've sent one of the aids to the embassy cafeteria to fetch levo refreshments. I'm afraid we don't receive many offworlders, so the options are limited."

"The effort is appreciated, and I'm sure whatever they bring back will be fine. Thank you for having us, Primarch." Shepard gave him a smile and dipped her head before going down the two steps leading to the couches.

She'd taken her helmet off once inside and Mordin assured her the building's shielding was acceptable for human needs. Seeing Fedorian choose to receive her while wearing business attire made her wish she'd had the opportunity to remove the rest of her armor, too. She knew for a turian in his position, it was a statement of his political power more than anything else, but she'd have liked to show him a little trust, too. He must've realized the specifics of the location didn't exactly lend themselves to more comfortable dress on her part, though.

"Of course." He took a seat and waited for Shepard, Garrus, and Mordin to do the same before continuing. "An in-office lunch is quite possibly, literally, the least I can do. I wish I had time for something more, but with the Council's announcement, The Dissension, and your intel on Temple Palaven …." He chuffed and shook his head before leaning back and resting an ankle on the opposite knee.

Shepard sat her helmet down on the couch between her leg and Garrus'. "I understand, Primarch." She pulled off her gauntlets and gloves, knowing it'd be easier to eat without them, and laid them down next to her helmet. "I appreciate the time you are making, and lunch is more than I'd expected." It may not have been entirely true, Garrus had told her the primarch would probably try to feed her while they were there regardless of the time of day or how long they planned to stay. It'd brought a smile to her face, reminding her of what little she could recall about her grandmother. "Especially on short notice."

"I'm glad you're here, though." He waved a hand before resting it on his knee. "I wanted the chance to thank you in person. I know you weren't acting within the parameters of the Council's expectations while addressing the galaxy regarding The Dissension. It was a bold move, Commander. Regardless of whatever the Council may have thought, I believe your words carried significant weight to our civilian populations. I can't speak to how they were received by humanity, of course, but I know it meant something to the majority of turians to see the human spectre defending our leaders in the middle of growing hostilities. The war between our people may be over, but the wounds are still healing on both sides."

Shepard offered him a soft smile and nod. After visiting Shanxi, she'd say that the turians seemed to be healing far better than the humans, and it wasn't the tiniest bit surprising given the specifics of the initial encounter. As much as she loved Garrus, the turians handled the entire 'Relay 314 Incident' like major assholes. She preferred to avoid traveling too far down that road with the primarch, however. She seriously doubted he'd like what she had to say.

"You know, given his age, he might've fought in the First Contact War," Jane said, though the statement carried no judgment, just observation. "Garrus' dad, too, for that matter. We never really asked or thought to look."

"We're not going to now, either," Shepard thought. "We have enough trouble without looking for more."

"I have some C-SEC reports on how the situation changed on the Citadel following Shepard's interview." Garrus gently fluttered his mandibles when Fedorian turned his attention to him. "I can send them to you, if you'd like, sir."

Fedorian nodded to Garrus but didn't otherwise acknowledge the statement, his attention shifting back to Shepard.

"If my interview helped at all," she said with a shrug, "then it was worth the censure. Even with blame for the attack on Tiberius Towers falling on me, too." She smiled and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I wanted to thank you in person, too, for your help defending Earth. We lost so many," they said and then had to stop to swallow down the sudden ache in their throat and threat of tears as their heart spasmed with grief, "to the collectors, but we would've lost so many more without the Hierarchy's assistance."

Garrus hummed softly and settled a hand on their thigh, Fedorian's gaze tracking the movement. Taking another deep breath, they sat upright again and covered his hand with her own, squeezing his fingers. Thankfully, the primarch seemed more interested in what Shepard had to say than with Garrus' impropriety. Mordin shifted next to her, inadvertently drawing her attention as he watched the back and forth of the conversation.

"Forgive me," she said, turning her attention back to Fedorian but gesturing to Mordin. "Allow me to introduce Dr. Mordin Solus. He's been working with me since my … reinstatement."

"Dr. Solus, yes." Fedorian stood and Mordin did the same, reaching across the table to shake hands. "If I'm not mistaken, you recently released a cure for the genophage on Tuchanka."

"Not mistaken." Mordin released the turian's hand with a nod of his head and returned to his perch on the edge of the couch. "Measures in progress to help curb krogan natural population growth." He paused, taking a deep breath and lifting his chin a little higher. "Either way, cure necessary."

"For all of our sakes, I hope you're right, Professor." Fedorian's mandibles fluttered and flicked, dancing out the rhythm of his thoughts and emotions across his face.

"He is right," Shepard said, tone walking a fine line between decisive and just plain rude, and Garrus chuffed softly, squeezing her fingers a little tighter as if silently pleading with her to be nice. "And he did it—at least in part—because it's something I requested."

"Really, though, be nice," Jane said, worry coloring her words. "Even just the stress of it all …. Yeah, I know, Dr. Chakwas said his heart was fine, but still. I think he'd be less stressed if we dropped a reaper in his lap than if you and his dad's BFF started to throw down. To Garrus, Fedorian's kind of like our Anderson, or something. The turian equivalent of a Godparent."

Shepard sucked in a slow breath. "I know, Jane," she thought. "I know."

"I see." Fedorian's brow plates lifted, mandibles spread wide before falling slack a moment later. It seemed as if he had something more to say, but a buzz of sound came from his desk. "Excuse me." He stood, standing tall and proud as he made his way up the stairs, not looking over his shoulder at her once. Rounding his desk, he pushed a button on his console and the door to his office slid open.

Shepard's attention shifted to the door, and she watched as a young turian with yellow colony markings, barely out of his mandatory service if she had to guess, carried in a box with what looked like a red and white restaurant logo emblazoned across the sides. Fedorian waved his hand at the table in front of Shepard, and the young man dipped his head before carrying it down the steps.

Setting the box down as carefully as if it were an armed bomb, the turian straighted and faced Shepard after, nodding his head. "Spectre." He didn't wait for any sort of response before turning his attention back to Fedorian and dipping his head lower. He lifted a fist, rapping his knuckles against his chest. "How else may I serve, Primarch?"

"That will be all." Fedorian nodded his acknowledgement of the salute. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, sir." The youngman dropped his hand as he turned and rushed back up the stairs and out of the office.

Fedorian sat back down and gestured at the box. "There should be something in there for us, too, Garrus."

Garrus took that as his cue and slid off the couch, kneeling in front of the table on one knee as he opened the box and began doling out the contents.

Gaze fixed firmly back on Shepard, the primarch picked back up where things left off. "Was this decision related to the reapers' impending arrival?"

"In part, yes." Shepard nodded as she let the statement sit without further explanation, her gaze slipping to Garrus. Even though he remained within reach, without him right at her side, she felt lost.

Garrus glanced at her, offering her a reassuring flick of his mandibles. Fedorian hummed, and she looked up in time to see the familiar twitch of nose plating that let her know he was scenting the air, taking in whatever change in her drew Garrus' attention, too. Garrus finished setting out the food and drinks before pushing himself to his feet, touching an access node on the end of the table on his way up.

The node glowed softly for a second before beginning a steady flash. Garrus turned and sat back down next to her, taking her hand again. Sensors around the edge of the table sent out a projection of white light as it scanned the area, sweeping over Shepard and the others. The table's surface began to move, gaining height and spreading wider as it shifted from a coffee table and into a dining table. It came to a stop just in front of her abdomen, bringing her insulated cup and box to rest right in front of her.

Relaxing with Garrus next to her again, Shepard nodded to herself and followed his lead. They waited for the Primarch to open his box and begin before touching their own. She picked up her cup, first, grateful for something to wet her still aching throat with.

"I noticed several construction sites on my way down. Planetary defense weapons?" she asked, pushing the tab on the lid of her cup to slide it open. She hadn't considered it until just then, but it was nice to see the cafeteria included lids with mouthpieces more accommodating to human and salarian lips.

"Yes. Not just here in Cipritine, but across the globe." He nodded and dug out a set of utensils tucked into the side of his food container. He speared a piece of purplish-blue meat with the two-pronged fork and used the knife to trim away the bits of metallic carapace still attached. "We've increased labor and resource commitments in mobile defenses, weaponry, and armor as well."

Shepard took a sip and hummed softly as the familiar, ice cold, fruity taste of tupo berry tea hit her taste buds. Setting the cup back down, she opened the container in front of her, savory steam teasing her nostrils. A bowl overflowed with a mix of leafy greens and vibrantly colored chunks of fruits and vegetables. Resting on the side lay several strips of red meat, the outside charred, but the inside sure to still be bloody, what with having come from a turian run cafeteria. Curious, she glanced at Mordin's container, finding pretty much the same thing sans the meat. She figured it was a default levo meal based on the needs of a human's more traditionally omnivorous diet and a salarian's more herbivorous one. They idly wondered at what point in salarian evolution the species stopped eating flies, if Javik was to be believed.

"I've engaged in talks with a few other primarchs in turian controlled space, and we're going to begin construction of fortified shelters to protect non-combatants and serve as refugee camps to—hopefully—decrease the strain on the Citadel and other galactic hubs should things become dire." Fedorian glanced up from his meal, catching her gaze. "I've read as many of your reports as I could get my hands on, Shepard, and I've made it a point to maintain a working relationship with Councilor Anderson and Admiral Hackett. They both seem like good men less interested in political maneuverings and more about what it will take to win this thing." He hummed, carving off a bite of his steak. "I must admit, I was skeptical when I first heard your claims about the reapers, and I was dumbfounded when I received the video you recorded prior to the collector attack on your old ship. Your tenacity intrigued me, however. It was enough for me to start asking a few questions of my own."

He chuckled and pulled the meat from the fork with his mouth plates before working his jaw, using teeth and tongue to guide the meat to the back of his throat and swallowed. "I'm afraid Sparatus wasn't pleased with my interest, but he eventually let enough information slip to make me think there might just be something to your claims. Of course, it wasn't until the Council announced the reality of the reapers that I truly understood the seriousness of what you've had to say. I must admit, I regret not listening sooner."

Jane scoffed. "You and everyone else in the galaxy, Primarch."

Shepard smirked, stabbing into her salad a few times. "The fact that I'm sitting here across from you, now, and we're having this conversation at all—especially in light of recent events—is more impressive than I think you realize, Primarch. No offense to you, of course. I only mean to say that it hasn't been easy getting anyone to really listen to anything I've been trying to say. Sometimes, I'm not sure why the Council bothered to make me a Spectre at all, since all they've wanted to do is shut me up from day one." She skewered a strip of the red meat, too, relieved to hear the primarch's soft laughter. Bringing her fork to her mouth, she paused to meet his gaze again. "I'm relieved to see the turians making so many preparations so swiftly. Is there anything I can do to further help Palaven prepare?" she asked and then shoved the food into her mouth.

"Actually, there is, Commander." He bobbed his head as he cut another piece. "Since you seem to have the most experience with dealing with these sorts of things, you can tell me what, exactly, I should expect to find in the ruins of Temple Palaven, and what in the name of all the Spirits I should do with whatever is down there."

Shepard bit back a scoff, reminding herself that Fedorian was not only the leader of his people, but an important figure in Garrus' life. And, he had nothing to do with all the Council's shit she had to deal with from the start. "Do you want the whys and hows or just the whats?"

"I beg your pardon?" He flared his mandibles wide, confusion etched into every corner of his face."

"She's asking if you want the full story or just a quick answer." Garrus beamed at her, a cocky tilt to his mouth plates, apparently quite pleased with himself for being able to translate her human idioms.

Shepard snorted, returning his smile. She shifted her leg, tucking her ankle beneath his heel and pressing her knee against his. A soft purr filled the air for a brief second before he cut it off and cleared his throat, turning his attention back to his plate.

Fedorian chuckled, a soft smile warming his eyes when she glanced his way. "The full story, please, Commander."

She nodded and began, "The Illusive Man—Jack Harper—was a mercenary on Shanxi during the First Contact War. Before his execution, he spoke of what he called the Arca Monolith. Apparently, during the war, one of the Hierarchy's science teams crashed on Shanxi. They were transporting the monolith—I'm not sure where it came from in the first place—to Palaven. After they crashed, they took it to a local cave system to hide it until they could get it off world again. Based on his descriptions and the intel we were able to salvage from an OSD and several datapads found in his apartment on Shanxi, the monolith was clearly a reaper artifact, and the whole science team was likely indoctrinated."

"Definitely indoctrinated, more like," Jane said.

"Oh, for sure," Shepard thought in return.

Fedorian rumbled but didn't speak. His gaze remained glued to Shepard, only shifting long enough to gauge the placement of his knife against his steak before he began to cut.

"Harper and two other mercenaries working with General Williams—Ben Hislop and Eva Coré—found the cave with the artifact along with a whole host of indoctrinated, cybernetically altered turians being led by General Desolas Arterius … Saren Arterius' brother." Shepard paused to take a bite.

Fedorian nodded as he processed her words, seeming to understand the significance of the connection. Good. It made her job a lot easier. She chewed and swallowed before taking a sip of her tea.

"One of the mercenaries," she said, continuing on with her story, "Hislop, touched the artifact and was caught up in some sort of blast. Harper was near enough the blast caught him, too, but just barely. When he came to, Harper found his friend, Hislop, had been changed just like the turians who guarded the monolith. It altered him, as well, but on a much smaller scale—as far as we can tell, just his eyes were affected."

"I've seen images in a few classified reports." Fedorian looked down at his plate while he cut into his food again. "The Illusive Man's eyes glowed blue."

"Correct. Apparently the blast created some sort of cybernetic enhancement." Shepard nodded when he glanced up at her while bringing his fork to his mouth. "He said that after the blast, he had some sort of connection to the artifact. He described it as a pull, a drive to protect it, no matter how far away from it he went. I think the Arca Monolith was the source of his indoctrination, at least the first dose, so to speak."

Fedorian stopped eating and watched her, mandibles slack, worry dancing across his eyes. "Your reports suggest indoctrination takes prolonged exposure."

"Everything else I've seen indicates that it does." Shepard pulled her shoulders up in a shrug. It really was new to her, to all of her. "I don't know if this artifact was just more potent or if it had to do with the cybernetics it created. I haven't encountered any other artifact that changes people like that beyond the dragon's teeth the geth heretics used to create the husks we first fought on Eden Prime."

"I understand." He nodded. "Please, continue."

"Hislop and the turians who were completely changed by the artifact—Desolas referred to them as Valluvian Priests—acted as if protecting it was their sole reason for existence, something compulsory and beyond their control." She stabbed a chunk of fruit, fibrous and giving off a citrus smell. "Hislop refused to leave the artifact, so Harper and Coré had no choice but to escape without him. It wasn't like that for The Illusive Man, though. He still had control over himself. Some time later, Desolas used the artifact to lure Harper to Illium where he kidnapped him and Coré, and brought them to the temple on Palaven."

Head retracting, Fedorian sat a little straighter, eyes suddenly more alert. "He brought them here? Why?"

"Desolas hoped to use The Illusive Man to gain a better understanding on how the monolith worked and to control those affected by the monolith," Shepard said, letting her forearms rest on the edge of the table, the fork still waiting in her hand. "When the war came to an end, Desolas was ordered to release them. Saren was there to oversee the transfer of prisoners; it's probably where he got his first exposure, too. Somehow, Harper was able to convince Saren that something was wrong with Desolas, and they figured out his brother intended to use the artifact to enslave other turians, turning them into Valluvian Priests against their will. I guess he wanted to build his own, personal army," Shepard said, waving her free hand. Truthfully, Desloas' reasons for the whole thing didn't matter in the slightest.

Fedorian let out a soft growl, but it didn't seem to be directed at Shepard or anyone else in particular. Still, Garrus shifted on the couch, his body turning a little more toward her even as his gaze remained on Fedorian. He didn't say anything, but the tension rolling off of Garrus suggested he feared the older turian might just pounce. The amalgamation contemplated what Garrus would do if a standoff between Shepard and Fedorian did ever take place. She wasn't concerned, however. She realized the primarch was frustrated because of the events of her story, not at Shepard. Besides, she'd do her damn best to patch things up if she had offended the primarch, not just to prevent a diplomatic catastrophe, but for Garrus' sake, too. She'd never put the man she loved into such a position unless there were lives at stake and no other option.

She waited until Fedorian chuffed and lowered his gaze before she continued, "Realizing the seriousness of the situation and seeing no other way to stop Desolas, Saren called in the airstrike on the temple. Desolas and Hislop were still inside with the priests when the place came down on top of them. The Illusive Man said he still felt the pull of the monolith, even after all this time, and so he didn't think it had actually been destroyed, just buried. He seemed to believe there was a second monolith in the temple, as well." She paused, setting her fork down against the wall of the container and waited for Fedorian's gaze to turn back to her. "Here's the thing … from what I saw with Saren and the human husks, there's a good chance that Desolas, Ben, and every one of those Valluvian Priests in that temple are still, for lack of a better word, alive beneath the rubble."

"Alive?" The shocked flanging in the primarch's voice seemed to completely freeze the atmosphere, bringing Garrus and Mordin to a complete standstill, too. "How would that even be possible?"

"Artifact physically altered victims, not just psychological indoctrination," Mordin said, breaking the silence, and truthfully, Shepard appreciated the primach's attention shifting to someone else for a bit. "Suspect form of nanotechnology released with blast. Eyes only enhanced for Illusive Man, full bodies for others. AI called The Intelligence created reapers to 'preserve life at all costs'. Speculate reapers likely only one of many methods employed. Indoctrination initially meant to prevent advanced species from creating AIs but ultimately insufficient. Arca Monolith designed to hybridize organic and synthetic life to remove need for creation of AI's but required immediate proximity. Inefficient. Created more AIs to assist, tasked with harvesting organics to preserve DNA in new reapers."

"The Intelligence?" Fedorian looked back at Shepard, then Garrus, before settling on Shepard once again. "What is he talking about?"

"When I contacted you with the list of members of The Dissension and we spoke about the collectors headed for Earth, you noted that I brought the information to you instead of the Council." She stopped, not because she thought he might not recall the conversation, but because she suddenly didn't feel sure she should tell him anything else.

"Yes," he said with a nod, "and you said they were seeking you on charges of treason for failing to follow first contact protocol …."

Shepard looked at Garrus, searching his eyes for guidance. He gave her a decisive nod, crystal blue eyes clear of doubt. She swallowed and sucked in a deep breath, letting it seep back out of her.

"If I share this with you," Shepard said, turning her attention back to Fedorian, "you can't divulge the details of this to anyone, and you sure as hell can't tell anyone it came from me."

Fedorian's mouth plates lifted in a smirk, but he tipped his head in agreement. "You have my word, Commander."

Shepard took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks before blowing it out again. "On 2181 Despoina, I encountered a species I call the leviathans. Turns out, they're responsible for the reapers."

"You're certain?" Fedorian's mandibles flicked, gaze shifting between the three of them.

"I saw them myself." Garrus hummed when Fedorian looked his way again. "Sovereign was created in their image. When I first saw them, I thought they were reapers."

"How can you be sure they weren't?" Fedorian asked, and granted, it was a good question.

"Made in image, not identical. Functional, biological anatomy. Chitinous, non-metallic exoskeleton. Organic variances in size and appearance. Movements natural, fluid." Mordin sniffed. "Clearly not synthetic lifeform. Besides, behavior direct contradiction to reapers', fleeing from planet, not attacking."

Shepard picked back up when Mordin stopped for breath. "They once ruled over all other sentient species; we're talking long, long before the protheans. The leviathans got tired of their underlings creating AIs only to have those AIs revolt and take them out. As the leviathans said, 'tribute does not flow from a dead race.'"

Fedorian hummed, staring at his steak as if it'd suddenly lost all appeal the moment Shepard spoke the word 'leviathan'. "It sounds more like they viewed the other races as chattel."

"They did, and their rule wasn't the product of diplomacy or war. They enthralled the others with some form of telepathic control. A natural indoctrination." Shepard let her words linger for a moment before trudging along. "Anyway, they came up with the brilliant idea of creating their own AI, calling it The Intelligence, and tasked it with finding a way to break this pattern and preserve life at all costs. Eventually, the AI came to the—obvious—conclusion that its creators were a part of the problem, and thus the leviathans became the subjects of the first harvest."

Fedorian's brow plates dipped inward. "What made them think their AI wouldn't turn on them as the others had?"

Jane scoffed, the sound void of any real bite. "The question of a thousand lifetimes."

Shepard shrugged and hiked an eyebrow to her hairline. "Hubris." She picked up her cup and took a deep swallow of the tea before setting it back down again. "The leviathans I met are the descendants of those who managed to escape and hide in the depths of oceans on uninhabited planets. They watch the galaxy through artifacts—these iridescent orbs—left behind on the surfaces of the planets they once inhabited and use thralls to erase any evidence they come across that leviathans ever even existed. They've been watching from hiding as their creation basically went more and more insane and wiped out advanced civilization after advanced civilization for countless cycles."

"If we know where these leviathans are," Fedorian said with a deep, resonate growl, "why aren't we—the Council, humans, turians, anyone stopping them while they're still in hiding and vulnerable?"

"What was that about hubris?" Jane's snark almost tore a bark of laughter from Shepard's throat.

"Trust me, they're not vulnerable. Not really. Besides, the reapers are the real threat here. When I learned about the leviathans' part in all of this, I tried to convince them to help us end the reapers. They refused, adamantly and painfully before fleeing the planet. What they did to me was a slap on the wrist compared to what they're capable of, and they only left me intact because I'm fighting to clean up their mess. Without the cybernetic implants Cerberus used to bring me back and keep me on my feet, I'm not sure I would've survived. Worse, they didn't even touch me. They did this with their minds. Kind of like an asari's meld." A shudder forced its way down her spine as memories of the leviathans pushed their way forward, stealing her away from reality.

"Shepard, are you alright?" Garrus' voice broke through the fog a moment later, snapping her back to the present.

She glanced at him and nodded before turning her attention back to Fedorian. "The Council is afraid, and understandably so, that the leviathans will attempt to reclaim their position as the apex species and enthrall all other advanced species once again. And, to be fair, if we're somehow able to win this war and the leviathans are still around in numbers … they might. Either way, it won't be because I didn't follow some first contact protocol I was never trained in to begin with."

Fedorian rubbed a gloved hand over his face and crest. "Spirits."

~69696969~

Garrus hummed and grabbed Shepard's upper arm, pulling her up short as she stepped out of Fedorian's office. "Give me a few minutes with him?" he asked, voice pitched low even though he knew he'd be overheard by the primarch.

Shepard smiled up at him, and nodded. "Of course. Take as much time as you need." Her lips pulled up further, blunted teeth flashing before she added, "Mordin will make sure I don't get into any trouble."

"Spirits." Chuckling, Garrus leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, trying hard not to imagine all the trouble he knew she could find on Palaven. "Don't go far, though. There could be members of The Dissension here who we haven't identified yet."

Glancing over her shoulder and out of Fedorian's office, she nodded her head toward the hallway. "See those benches?" She glanced back up at him. "I'll be right there the whole time. Promise." She gave him a quick kiss before tugging away and crossing the distance to the benches, sitting and looking at him with raised eyebrows as if to prove her point.

He flicked a mandible and nodded but still said to Mordin, "Keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't blow anything up or get kidnapped."

Mordin smiled and took a seat next to Shepard. "Will keep two."

Garrus let the door close with a chuff before turning back to Fedorian. The primarch sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed loosing over his chest, one ankle over the other.

He watched Garrus in silence for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "Your wounds are leaving scars."

Still self-conscious under the primarch's scrutiny, Garrus chuffed and scratched at his jawline. "They could go away given time. Dr. Chakwas thinks they're as severe as they are due to the thulium, which she also thinks saved my life."

"It wasn't lightning, the markings would've faded completely by now." Fedorian's mandibles fluttered softly as he looked over Garrus. "And no, I didn't mention it to your father. You're a grown man, now, Garrus. What you chose to or not to tell him is none of my business. Though I think you should see him while you're here. Your mother spent some time offworld for clinical trials, but they're home now. And if things between you and Shepard are as serious as they seem … well, I know your mother would want to know, at least. I'm assuming the other human I smell on you is known to Shepard."

"No, it wasn't lightning, but it's a long, complicated story. And yes, she is." Garrus hummed and scratched again. "Her name's Jack. She and Dawn—hmm, she and Shepard, are close. Shepard is seeing someone else, too, but it's complicated."

"How so? I know humans are as varied in their preferences between single or multiple partners as are turians." Fedorian raised a brow plate.

"For one, he's dying and won't be around much longer." Garrus shifted his weight and shook his head. "It's not my place to discuss the details."

"Of course." Fedorian hummed and let his gaze drift away. "This must be a difficult time for her, beyond the obvious."

Garrus chuffed. "That's putting it mildly."

"And this Jack?" Fedorian pushed himself off his desk and walked back around, taking a seat before waving at the chairs situated in front. "Are things with her serious, too?"

"They're … also complicated, but in a different way." Garrus took a seat and rubbed a hand over his face. "Hell, everything is complicated with both of them, but yes, it's serious with both of them, too." Chuffing again, he waved a hand dismissively. "I wanted to ask you for a favor. For Shepard, and our mission."

"I'm listening?" Fedorian flared his mandibles before leaning forward, propping an elbow on the desk, and resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"The ship was hit pretty hard in both the attack on the collector base and shortly before that when we were breached by agents of the Shadow Broker." Garrus sat back and lifted a leg up to rest an ankle on the opposite knee. We spent some time in dry-dock on Illium, so it's been repaired, but I'd feel a lot better if we could have someone make sure the Normandy is in top shape. Maybe see what upgrades can be made, even if it's just a list for future additions."

"I'm not saying no, but why isn't she asking the Council or the Alliance, instead?" Fedorian asked, sitting back in the chair.

"Well, for one, she's not asking; I am. For two," Garrus said, turning a palm out toward the couches as he spoke, "as she said, the Council has been nothing but a thorn in her side. She was never officially stripped of her rank in the Alliance, of course, but she views herself as a Spectre first despite the Council being more trouble than they're worth." He lowered his hand to rest in his lap. "That being said, I'm sure she would ask the Alliance or even Anderson if she had the chance to stop for five seconds and think about it, but she doesn't. We're also working with a skeleton crew at the moment. She got rid of everyone wearing Cerberus colors who's backgrounds brought up too many red flags. She hasn't even slowed down enough to replace any of them yet, though. She didn't want to give The Illusive Man the chance to escape again, and after what she learned on Shanxi, she wanted to come straight to Palaven."

Fedorian narrowed his eyes. "Does she know you're asking?"

"No, not yet." Garrus shook his head and splayed his palm out over his keel. "But I'm asking because I know our people can do better and faster, and we're here now. The old Normandy was a cooperative design created by turian and humans as a part of peacekeeping efforts, as you know. This ship is based off of the original design, but Cerberus got a lot of it wrong. Granted, they got some of it pretty right, too. Either way, it's no longer a Cerberus vessel. It's not an Alliance or Council vessel, either. It belongs to Shepard, and it's the ship that's going to be spearheading the war against the reapers. So, it all needs to be right." He hummed. "If you agree to help, I can get her to agree to allow it. So long as you make sure it's people you expressly trust to not be involved with The Dissension or Facinus."

Fedorian nodded, leaning forward with a finger poised over the intercom on his desk. "How much time do we have to work?"

"I think I can finagle at least a couple of days," Garrus said, nodding to himself. "She wants to stick around to make sure the Arca Monolith is truly destroyed, and she wants me to see my family while we're here, too." Garrus stood. "I suppose I'd better clear it with her before anyone tries to touch the ship," he said with a laugh.