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It took a day and a half of constant fighting for their forces to secure the designated positions around the greater plateau. Eventually, the Reapers more or less gave up on the hills he and the Krogan and Turian coalition had fought for. He doubted they'd ever cared, of course, but it had been a good way to bleed them of manpower, munitions and assets. Even now, the Reapers were landing transports full of Cannibals, Husks and Marauders further out along the moon and sending them in waves at the new defensive line. Almost none even reached it, shelled into nothingness by mortars at first and now heavy, tread-based Turian artillery cannons being dug in along the outside of the hills. Ground was being cleared at the top of each hill, too, where even heavier artillery pieces were being put together while bunkers and trenches were plotted down their sides. And, on the great plateau itself, John could see a pair of Turian corvettes hovering low, assisting with ground clearance and the construction of massive bunkers to house power and control systems for the coming orbital defenses - a pair of heavy guns, facing north and south to support the navy above the moon.

It was coming together quickly, but…

He wasn't sure it was coming together quickly enough.

Sitting at the top of the slope he'd created in the attack on the hill, he felt the air around him tremble. Then the rocks around him did, too, some of the smaller ones bouncing free and rolling down the hill. He looked up to watch a charcoal black box the size of a house come down, using thrusters at each corner to slow and coordinate its descent. It had two beak-like viewing sections protruding from the middle and heavy, quad-barreled turrets just behind them. It landed in little dips created in the lowland where rock and debris and dirt had been duck out and pushed aside into small hills. As Krogan disembarked from it, the same workers that had cleared the land got to work pushing the dirt and rock against the hull to more or less bury the transport while ammunition, food and supplies were carted off.

It was the nineteenth he'd seen and, he knew, it would soon serve as a buried pillbox. Part of the defensive line just inside the hills, in case any of the actual hills were lost and they needed a fallback position to assault and retake them from.

"Doe."

He didn't need to turn to recognize the voice, grunting a quiet, "Tar."

"Keeping watch?" The old Krogan asked, dropping down to sit beside him.

"Something like that." He gestured with his Lancer at the distant construction. "Orbital fire is coming along nicely."

"They're just building off schematics." He shrugged, "More or less a copy of the one on Tuchanka. Means they can use dumb construction droids and volunteers to speed it up."

"Volunteers?"

"Civilians who evacced off Turian worlds." He grunted, "Not all are Turian, but… They know this is how they get their homes back."

"Ah." It made sense, logically. They'd be used to Turian pragmatism, such as it was, and would recognize that retaking Palaven would always have to come before its lost colonies. The infrastructure was just too important, along with the morale of having the homeworld safe. "Well… Many hands make light work, as they say."

"Do they say…?"

"Supposedly." He chuckled, "My mother said so, when I was little."

"She still…?"

"No." He sighed, frowning behind his helmet. "She was… Killed, by the- By pirates."

"Batarians, I'm guessing?" He only shrugged, which the Krogan took as a yes, rumbling lowly. "Bastards… At least they're gone, the racist, slaving bastards. Something good came out of this whole mess."

He tried to set aside the fact that the Krogan had been one of the main species aside from the Batarians to contribute to the slave trade and, instead, quipped, "Aside from the Cure, you mean?"

"Thought it went without saying."

"Ah." He chuckled lowly, "Fair enough. What are our next steps?"

"A couple weeks of skirmishing to hold ground while we built the anti-orbitals, and then the Alliance brings in the Sixth Fleet and, oh, half a million ground pounders or so?" John flicked the Krogan a disbelieving look and, rumbling a low laugh, the warlord nodded and sighed. "Don't get excited, cousin."

"Cousin?"

"And why not?"

He just shrugged - it seemed odd, but he didn't really see a reason to question it. "Why shouldn't I get excited?"

"After that is several weeks set aside to clear and plan landing routes for Palaven. Big-wig stuff and a lot of digging hidey-holes and finding out the next day you gotta move 'em ten feet." He answered, sighing and shrugging wearily like someone who had been through the infantry-man's most annoying exercise more than once in his life. "You won't be here for all the waiting games and line-changes, though. S'why you shouldn't get excited for 'em."

"I won't…?"

"Nope." He shook his head, pitching a blocky, ancient looking and very distinctly Krogan looking tablet into his side, laughing while he fumbled to catch it with his elbow thanks to his hands being busy with the rifle. It dug into his side a bit and he depolarized his visor so the alien could see his scowl while he shuffled the gun out of the way and grabbed the tablet. "Sorry, sorry, couldn't help myself. You need to relax."

"I'm in a literal warzone…"

"Yeah, well… So is everyone." He shook his head, "Anyway, High Chieftain is pulling you on request. Ship is coming in to carry you off."

"What ship?"

"That'n right there, actually." Tar grunted, pointing up as a familiar looking, sleek-bodied Corvette angled around and down to land as close to their hill as possible. His immediate surge of excitement on seeing the Normandy settling down must have shown on his face because the Krogan warlord bellowed a laugh and clapped his shoulder. "Didn't know you hated my company that much, cousin!"

"N-No, I just- I didn't- I mean-"

"Relax." The Krogan grunted, standing with the groan of a weary old man. "Natural to miss home, isn't it?"

"I guess, yeah…" He blinked, realising he had missed it, though he'd never have called it home. It was close enough, though. Or, he supposed, as close to home as he was liable to get for the rest of his days. Sighing, he looked up, past the pockmarks of fire and what looked from here like smoke that surrounded the moon and on up at the stars.

His Earth, his humanity, was probably dead by now… Wiped out by the Covenant. Every bit of their existence eradicated but for the scars left on their killers' hides.

"Yeah." He grunted, "The Normandy isn't much, but… I guess it's home."

"Sounds like you have a lot on your mind, Doe." The Krogan rumbled, "Not coming apart, are you?"

"No." He said as he stood, shaking his head and collapsing the Lancer in his hands. Stowing it on his back, he turned and clapped the Krogan's shoulder as he stepped away and down the hill, smiling behind his mask. "Don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed out here, cousin. There's way too much war for you to miss out on."

"Heh." The Krogan snorted, "How can I do anything stupid? I have a feeling you're taking all the stupid with you."

He just shrugged and kept on, picking his way carefully down the slope he'd had to make. And around crews trying to salvage the Tomkahs he'd buried, and the bodies inside them. The crews were mostly Krogan, and a few turned to give him nods as he passed, so he knew none of them held anything against him. Even so, he had to wonder… How many soldiers had died in the landslide he'd created? It'd been the only way he could see to survive, to accomplish their objective, but he'd seen Krogan outside their Tomkahs when he'd fired. And as sturdy as they were…

He'd seen more than one body loaded up to be shipped out, pulverised in a way that left no doubt as to how they'd died. So many, and he had no idea if he was to blame…

"John!" He looked up, blinking as he realized how far he'd walked, distracted in his own head. Enough to get close to the landing area, where Javik, of all people, had noticed him and came quick-marching up. The red-armored alien clapping him on both shoulders in greeting, smiling thinly, and said, "It is good to see you! It has been longer than I would have preferred, my bond-friend."

"It's good to see you, too." He smiled, rolling his sore shoulder and waving the Prothean off when he looked concerned. "You missed most of the fun."

"Ah, yes." He rolled all four of his eyes in a very human, and distinctly foreign looking on his face, gesture and turned to head back towards the ship, waving for John to follow. "I have been kept busy on your Citadel. Speeches before newly trained soldiers headed to battle, interviews to discuss Prothean tactics, interviews to discuss Prothean culture… And technology… And social norms…"

"People are fascinated by the past."

"Indeed." He sighed, waiting while a heavy supply truck descended the Normandy's open ramp, carrying supplies they'd brought with them for the Menae fighters to use. "It is unfortunate they remain more fixated upon my past than your future."

"Our future, you mean."

"Ah." He nodded, flicking John a look and then nodding again, like he wasn't entirely used to the Human gesture. "Yes."

"Javik?"

"I have had more than a little difficulty, learning your people's mannerisms. Deciphering what isn't this humanity's mannerisms from your version has made it more challenging." The alien explained quickly, almost as if he were trying to keep John from interrupting. "Forgive the misspeak."

It screamed of an excuse to hide something, but John could understand how it felt to feel so detached from the world they found themselves in. The way they'd come here might have been different, but… The result was the same. They were both far from anything they'd ever approached calling 'home' and flailing for some kind of reconnection to make up for it. He'd found the Krogan, as strange as it was both to realise that and to understand how real it felt, and Shepard had the Alliance and the Normandy and the crew. But Javik? All he had was the war…

And it wasn't even one he was being allowed to actually fight, because he was so much more useful off the field.

"Javik…" He started, laying a hand on the Prothean's shoulders. "You'll find your place, somewhere out here. Once the war's over, there'll be a lot to do. A lot to reclaim. You just have to pick a spot."

"Feeling philosophical, are we?"

"I guess." He sighed, "Nothing to do over the last couple days but work and think. And it was that or counting Husks…"

"I have seen the killing fields beyond the defensive ring, through the digital viewers as we descended to land." Javik nodded, sounding solemn as he turned, gazing at the one John had come down. Or beyond it, really, to the lowlands he could hear artillery buffeting even then. "It reminds me of my time. So many battlefields… I always took joy in the deaths of the Husks opposing us. Now? I feel pity. Almost remorse."

"They're victims, too." He nodded, "All we can do is avenge them."

"Indeed. Come." Javik nodded, turning when they saw a chance to get inside between the freight-runners.

The storage bay was still a third full when they got in, and thronged by Krogan, Turians, Asari and Human soldiers. Most of the first two wore the armor he'd come to expect, but he saw one or two Krogan in Alliance blue, and half a dozen Asari. It was strange to see the Alliance symbol on their chests, but he supposed it made sense. The Alliance would probably take all-comers eagerly, and Asari and Krogan both brought inherent advantages rare for the rank and file. Krogan didn't need much training or any modification to fight, and Asari were all Biotics.

Shepard was waiting in the CIC and was just as open about how happy to see him she was as Javik had been, throwing her arms around him and hoisting him up in a bear hug that did plenty to remind him just how strong she really was.

"John!" She grunted, letting him go and chuckling when he staggered back. She flicked his dirty cloak a look and snorted, "It's good to see you in one piece. And accessorising…"

"It's good for morale, apparently."

"Yours," she smiled, "or the Krogan's?"

"...Yes?" He shrugged, smiling when she snorted and waved for him to follow her.

"We've been busy while you've been fighting. A lot of scouting, some rescue, special theater operations… Those sorts of things." Shepard said as they headed towards the command center, her armored form more than able to part the thin groups in their way. The CIC had already been busy enough, but once they entered the War Room, it was like walking into a storm. There were at least fifty people running around the room, speaking into comm-lines, and Shepard had to raise her voice for him to hear her. "Wrex wanted you on-site for a mission- Politics, apparently. So we're running supply."

"I can tell." It was certainly chaotic enough for logistics work. "Why would I be involved in politics?"

"You're a Human in a Krogan clan, Doe." Shepard gave him a look, "The politics are unavoidable, especially now."

"Fair enough, I guess…" He sighed as they finally escaped the cacophony and went into the diplomatic room at the back. Wrex was waiting for them, dressed in a lighter set of dull red armor and robes that wrapped tight around his chest and spilled down around his ankles. He gave the Krogan a nod and a smile and grunted, "High Chieftain."

"Don't you start, too…"

"I'm… Sorry?" He flicked Shepard a look and leaned against the doorway while she stepped around the table.

"Inside joke." She smiled, turning to raise her eyebrows at the Krogan. "Isn't that right, High Warlord and Chieftain of the Krogan Clans?"

"I regret everything…" He grumbled, "Everything."

"Can someone explain the joke…?"

"Wrex has an embassy position on the Citadel now." Shepard explained, which made John smile - the Krogan deserved a place to speak, and the Embassies would be a good start for that. "Unfortunately, Krogan haven't ever really had a leader for their planets. Just warlords acting as. So, the Council decided to give them an official rank and title to use for now, until things are 'settled'."

"Oh, no…"

"So-"

"Shepard, please."

"According to the Citadel-"

"I'm on my knees here!" Wrex pleaded, smiling toothily and waving his arms. "Don't!"

"Wrex's official title," she smiled, "Is 'High Warlord and Chief Chieftain of Warlords of the Krogan Planetary Bodies, and High Warlord and Chieftain of the Krogan Clans'. And yes," she smiled even wider, "that is on his plaque, outside his office, and is announced whenever he speaks at an official function."

"Petty damn Salarians…"

"Mostly," Shepard shrugged, "it's a political response to the support the Krogan are getting. And the public support. And the cooperative militaries love 'em…"

"I guess it's a worthwhile tradeoff." He smiled, "Eh, High Warlord?"

"I will space you…" Wrex sighed dramatically, shaking his head and leaning on the table. "To business, now you're both done prodding the hungry Varren… Doe, I want someone on the ground with Shepard investigating a sensitive situation."

"What kind?"

"The top-secret kind." Shepard smiled, adjusting her armor, "What else?"

"That doesn't explain anything, Shepard…"

"How much do you know about the Rachni?" Wrex asked quietly, laughing when his shoulders drooped. Shaking his head, he explained, "I heard rumors out on the ass end of the galaxy and dispatched scouts to investigate. They went dark. No surprise, if the rumors of Rachni activity were true."

"Sensing a 'but' there…"

"But," Shepard snorted, "Wrex sent a rescue force to find them. And they went silent, too."

"Ah. Well… Shit." He sighed, shaking his head, "So we're the rescue squad's rescue, then?"

"Pretty much." Shepard nodded, "We'll be heading into unknown waters, through a war-torn galaxy, to fight giant psychic bugs, probably, and hopefully find Krogan to rescue. Sounds fun and we leave in an hour. You in?"

"Shepard." He cocked his head, "Do you have to ask?"

"...Legally, yes?"

"She's been like this for a week." Wrex rumbled lowly, "I swear, she goes too long without shooting something and she loses her mind."

"I shot something last week, Wrex…" Shepard sighed, "At that fuel processing facility, when I saved some N7s."

"Then what's your issue…?"

"It wasn't even a fun fight…"

"Ah." Wrex snorted, "Guess I should've known. You'd swear she was a Krogan, too…"

John just rolled his eyes and sighed, "I'll get my kit, then."

"Ah, and don't worry." Shepard called out as he left, "I talked the armory officer out of skinning you for losing your gun again!"

He just waved her off and laughed.

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And now to take a break and pass some time while Menae progresses. With what?

Sidequests of course! This IS from an RPG of course, lol.

Also a few other tidbits of comic relief and iiiiimplicatiooooooons for the astute observer.