War in the Galaxy

by SolitariusLupus

Commander Shepard: the 'Lion of Elysium', the 'Survivor of Akuze', and the 'Butcher of Torfan'. Humanities first Spectre. A galactic threat looms in the background as Shepard is forced to confront his past, to fight the future. General development of characters throughout; darker and grittier undertone. Slightly AU version of ME1's events.

32. Citadel Shenanigans

W.i.t.G

Hello again!

The promised chapter of the ground team completing their various tasks around the Citadel, is here. It's a big one, so get yourselves a drink and your favourite snack(s).

Let the shenanigans, ensue!

---

"What number are we up to, Wrex? Ten?"

"I don't know, Liara - you're supposed to be in charge of logging them! I just made sure the salarian was gonna pay us fairly for scanning the Keepers. I can't believe Shepard gave us this shit job to do..."

"It could be worse, Wrex."

"How? How could it be worse?"

"You could have made an idiot of yourself in front of the Commander, and his sister - like I did."

Wrex said nothing in response to this statement, as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His large, heavily armoured, hump softly -clanged- against one of the Presidium's pristine metal railings that surrounded the nearby lake.

Gazing behind him, his ancient blood red eyes couldn't help but notice an onyx statue of his forebears standing proudly above the water - a symbol of a time when the other races saw the krogan as having the potential for being more than bloodthirsty monsters. A time when the krogan had hope for the future. The stars were laid out in front of them - all they had to do was put down the -Ancients be cursed!- rachni, and they would be rewarded by the Council.

And what was the Council's reward for their uplifted soldiers? The damn salarians created the Genophage; the cowardly turians used it, and the krogan plummeted.

Mountains of dead krogan children littered the radioactive wastes of Wrex's homeland; his kin fighting each other for little more than the chance of collecting one of the few remaining fertile females left on Tuchanka, and bragging rights of who has the best looking pile of rubble. There was nothing left for Wrex... Not after his own father tried to murder him to maintain the status quo.

And here he was... The prodigal son. Sitting at the heart of Council space, on the Presidium of the Citadel; a stone's throw away from the Council's Tower... Where decisions affected the lives of trillions in the galaxy.

Scanning fucking Keepers for a handful of credits. All because a human asked him to.

Humans...

Wrex couldn't help but wonder if they too, were doomed to follow the course the krogan had set off down so many years ago. The Council were entertaining them for now, sure. Humanity had its uses... But, would they get discarded like the krogan had been? Would a solitary statue near a body of water on the Citadel be the only thing to remember them by?

That was all under the assumption that organic life didn't get wiped out by these Reapers, Shepard kept going on about.

Closing his eyes, Wrex continued to get lost in his own thoughts and ramblings. No sense of how much time had passed, concerned the Urdnot warrior - he was more than content to take a moment and feel some kind of warmth on his scarred hide.

It was only until he felt the presence of someone sitting down next to him, that Wrex dragged himself from his inner reverie. The smell of some sweet, almost sickly, food accosted the large merc's nostrils, as well as the tell-tale feeling of biotic power emanating next to him, caused the krogan to wearily open his eyes.

To his left, the asari was offering him some orange looking ball - her own orange ball having already been split open and sitting neatly in the palm of her other hand.

"What is it?" Wrex said in his usual monotone, gruff manner.

"It's called an 'orange', apparently. It's a human fruit. There's a vendor nearby that's selling them. I know you said you were hungry, and I don't think we're going to find any varren legs up here, so it's better than nothing."

With a tentative sniff, Wrex appraised the orange orb in front of him. Taking it gently from Liara, he felt the weight in his hand; his fingers lightly scratching the waxy outer coating.

"What's it taste like? Is it bitter? I hate bitter foods..."

"I don't know. I thought we could try it at the same time. Let's find out!" Liara gave a small squeal as she bit into an orange slice; juice dripping down her fingers, and smothering her chin with sticky, sweet juices.

Sounds of happiness could be heard from the young archaeologist as she wiped her mouth: "It's very good, Wrex! Very sweet - tangy even. It reminds me somewhat of the Nire fruits we had growing in a small allotment near my home, on Thessia. My mother would-"

Liara suddenly stopped speaking; her eyes going downcast at the fond memories of the times she spent with her mother. "I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't mention her again for the duration of our mission; we have bigger things to worry about."

Hefting the 'orange' between his hands, his keen eyes scrupulously examining every inch of its surface, the krogan replied - his voice lowered just enough for the two of them to hear: "Don't apologise. Tell me about your mother, little one."

A small sniffle emanated from the young asari, as she quietly finished her previous sentence: "My mother loved to grow them; Nire fruit have always been highly prized by my people for its aesthetics, flavour and nutritional value. I would help her pick them, off of their vines, just as the sun was setting. We'd walk home in the dwindling light of the day; I'd be regaling her with some story about the Prothean empire, usually - she'd merely smile and let me talk... She'd put the fruits in salads, pastries, stews... You name it. I always preferred eating them by themselves though - I wasn't very patient when I was younger; I never wanted to wait for them to be prepared. Mother would always chastise me, and say I had to learn to appreciate the small things in life... I'd almost forgotten the taste after all these years, but these 'oranges' remind me of home. Almost, anyway."

Wrex said nothing, as he gave the fruit another sniff. Slowly, he began gently peeling the orange's outer layer before placing a slice in his toothy maw.

Citrussy juices burst throughout the wizened krogan's mouth, as he chomped down on the soft flesh. The asari was right... The fruit was good. It was certainly unlike anything that he'd eaten from his home-planet. Then again, nothing grew on Tuchanka - just the body counts.

A small amount of time passed where the battlemaster said nothing; merely eating the fruit in front of him. After half of his orange had been eaten, he spoke - his usually gravelly tone laced with a warmth that very few people in the galaxy could say they'd heard before: "I'm sorry, about your mother, Liara. It's a cruel thing for a child to witness a parent's death."

The ancient krogan reached a hand out to rest on Liara's shoulder, before turning to face her - his blood red eyes meeting crystal clear sapphire ones. "But if it's any consolation, I think you handled her death with grace befitting the Warlord Shiagur herself. I believe your mother would be proud of you, seeing you now. And as to making a fool of yourself in front of the humans... Do not worry what others will think of you - only be concerned with how you think of yourself. Remember the good times; hold onto happy memories of your loved ones - you never know when your last day in this galaxy will be."

Liara choked back some silent tears, as she quietly ate another piece of her orange; a small, gentle smile on her face the entire time.

The two Normandy personnel said nothing else for a while. Passers-by would look upon the krogan with contempt, fear, or disdain. Usually, they looked at him in a perverse mixture of all three.

Wrex didn't care, anymore. He was used to it, after all these years.

In the encroaching silence, it was Liara's omni-tool softly chiming that caused the pair to stand from their seated position, near the krogan memorial.

After a few moments, Liara spoke; her usual air of confidence faltering somewhat, as she gave a small sniffle: "The Commander's asked us to look into some strange signal coming from one of the Ward elevators nearby, once we've finished up with the Keepers."

Wrex merely gave a grunt, as he pulled his own omni-tool up. It was an antiquated Blue-Wire model, but he didn't need it to do anything fancy... Not like the kids these days did, anyhow.

"How many Keepers have we logged so far? Ten?"

"Eleven, actually. I logged another one whilst I was getting these 'oranges'."

"Alright... let's go and find some more of these bugs, then. Lead the way, Liara."

Wordlessly the pair began moving past the statue, towards the last known location of a nearby Keeper.

In the background, situated upon the railing just below the statue of the krogan warrior, was the remains of half an earth-grown orange - a symbol for the future, left by a relic of the past.

---

"Commander Shepard? But... I was expecting someone-"

"I'm not the Commander; I'm his sister - Lieutenant Abby Shepard. Pleased to meet you, mister?-"

"Samesh. Samesh Bhatia. My apologies, but I was told that I would be speaking to the Commander regarding my wife's body."

Abby nodded her head in understanding as she flashed the older Asian man a disarming smile: "I completely understand, Mr. Bhatia. The Commander apologises for not being able to be here. His responsibilities as humanities first Spectre keep him extremely busy with intergalactic matters that affect trillions of people across Citadel space. He has personally entrusted me with the task of investigating the matter at hand."

Samesh began to nervously pace as he appraised the three human soldiers stood in front of him. "Yes, yes... I understand. Thank you for meeting with me. I've been petitioning Ambassador Udina for weeks now, but I've gotten nowhere. My pleas seem to be falling upon deaf ears."

Abby gently placed a hand on the nervous man's arm, before gesturing to some chairs nearby. "Why don't we take a seat and you can give us some more details, Mr. Bhatia? I'm afraid we've only been given the basics."

Moving across to the chairs near the embassies reception, the Asian man began hurriedly explaining: "My wife was a marine, you see... She was part of the 212, on Eden Prime-"

Ashley, who had remained stoic up to this point, suddenly spoke - her voice passionate; her eyes burning brightly with the memories of the massacre on Eden Prime. "Wait, did you say the 212? Your wife... are you Serviceman Nirali Bhatia's husband?"

Samesh stopped his fidgeting at this, his head nodding emphatically; tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he replied: "Yes! Yes, I am Nirali's husband!"

Williams gave a soft smile as she extended a hand towards the grieving man: "I'm Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. I served in her unit."

Gently taking the proffered hand in his own, Samesh spoke softly - emotion lacing every word. "Chief Williams... It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Nirali spoke of you with great respect."

Holding back her own tears, Ashley's voice was barely more than a whisper: "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Bhatia. Nirali was a good woman. What can we do to help you? Just name it."

Abby looked somewhat incredulously at the Chief; she and Lieutenant Alenko had been apparently relegated to the side-lines whilst Ashley and Samesh spoke.

The Asian man once more regarded the N7: "I've requested that my wife's body be returned to me - for cremation. But the military has refused my request."

Shepard nodded slowly, her words chosen carefully as she replied. "Why did they refuse your request? There's got to be some reason."

Throwing his hands in the air in frustration, Samesh practically shouted: "I don't know! All I know is that they declared it impossible for my wife to be returned to me. This isn't right, Lieutenant! My wife served the Alliance proudly. I just want to be able to go back home, to Earth, with her and say my goodbyes..."

Ashley quietly nudged the fiery redhead, her tone soft but firm: "We've got to do something, Lieutenant. I-I owe it to Nirali, to help her husband."

Abby raised a hand to pacify both the Chief and Samesh. Her words held a passion that was very reminiscent of the Commander's. A tone of voice that brooked no argument.

"There's no reason for your wife's body to be held like this, Mr. Bhatia. Please, wait here. I'll find out what's going on."

Samesh's face broke out in a rare smile as he grasped Abby's free hand. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you! The man in charge of my case is a Mr. Bosker. When I last saw him, he was in that expensive bar over there." The grieving husband punctuated the end of his statement with an outstretched finger; pointing towards the Embassies Diplomatic haunt of choice.

With a small smile, Abby released her hand from the seated man's grasp, before signalling the two marines to accompany her.

As they slowly made their way up a set of stairs, Ashley quietly spoke: "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, if I was out of line. It's just-"

"You don't need to apologise, Chief. I'm sure my brother would be doing the same as I am - and I imagine you'd have said something similar to him."

Alenko, who'd been silent the entire time barked out a short laugh as he took another step upwards: "There would probably have been more swearing involved if the Commander was here."

The N7 merely nodded her head, as she subtly reached into one of the pockets in her leather jacket.

Withdrawing a white, crumpled cigarette packet and a small gold lighter, Abby wordlessly made an offering gesture.

Both humans smiled politely as they shook their heads.

Shrugging her shoulders, Shepard placed a white cigarette between her ruby lips, before lighting it. Taking a long drag, the N7 spoke aloud: "Let me know if the smell's off-putting. I've been told my brand choice isn't the most pleasant to be around - most people still think cigarettes should have been left back on Earth."

With an exaggerated waft, Kaidan replied: "I wouldn't have put you down as a smoker, Lieutenant... But don't worry - I've smelt worse on the battlefield."

Abby barked out a short, sharp - yet mirthless - laugh, as she pressed the haptic interface on one of the many doors that led to the Diplomatic bar. "It's a bad habit I picked up a few years ago; my first mission, actually. Every time I say I'm gonna give them up, something always comes along and I end up needing a nicotine fix. They help to keep me grounded, too - remind me of my 'roots'."

Ashley spoke next, her nostrils somewhat flaring as she tried to ascertain the smell. "My dad was a smoker, ma'am. So was his dad. The smell's kinda welcoming - it reminds me of home. I've served with smokers - not too many though. It seems like an outdated practice these days... It's usually aliens I see puffing on cigarettes now."

With the cigarette between her lips, Abby deftly passed a lumbering elcor diplomat - who was deep in conversation with their volus counterpart. "Technology's advanced to the point where the downsides are practically negligible, Chief. But you're right - my brand of choice is particularly favoured by batarians-"

Both marines stopped in their tracks at this admission. Shepard walked forward a few steps, before stopping as well.

The three marines stood in the corridor leading to the bar; no words passing between them for a short time.

It was Kaidan that eventually broke the silence: "The Commander's going to love this... If anything's gonna be guaranteed to piss him off, it's the smell of batarian cigarettes! Have you even spoken to him about smoking them?"

Chief Williams quickly interjected; "I thought batarian products were being embargoed, ma'am? How did you get a hold of a pack of batarian cigarettes?"

The female lieutenant took a drag of her cigarette, before blowing a murky cloud of smoke away from the group. Removing the packet from her jacket pocket, she presented the packaging for both marines to clearly see. "They're not 'batarian' cigarettes - they're human. Made in San Antonio, of the United North American States. Well, they say they're made in the UNAS, but they're probably processed and packaged on some colony world out in the boonies..."

Sure enough, the crumpled white packet had a red border streaking across the top; two white stars and what looked like an old-Earth cowboy situated on the banner. Big, bold red lettering was plastered across the front of the packet: TEXAS.

Alenko and Williams said nothing, as Shepard continued: "Before humans came along, the other races of the galaxy had their own vices they used on a daily basis - alcohol and recreational drugs, like Hallex, Red Sand... Now, one of the biggest galactic sellers is cigarettes; one of humanities' claims to fame. But do you want to know what the greatest irony of us introducing cigarettes to aliens, is? The Batarian Hegemony hates our fucking guts - but the black market is booming on Khar'shan for human cigarettes. They can't get enough of them. Crazy, huh?"

Kaidan wafted another puff of smoke away from his face as he replied - his words somewhat clipped: "Yeah, real crazy Lieutenant. But my point still stands - Shepard's gonna hate smelling cigarettes that remind him of batarians."

Abby nonchalantly dropped the stub of her nearly-finished cigarette on the crisp, clean floors of the Presidium, before grinding it under the heel of her well-worn combat boots.

"If my brother has a problem with me smoking my chosen brand of cigarettes, he can take it up with me. I've got tattoos as well - do you think I should speak to him about that first, or afterwards, Staff Lieutenant?"

The human biotic said nothing for a time - his eyes merely staring back into hers. When he did speak, his tone was quiet but held an undertone of steel: "You do whatever you want to do, Lieutenant. You don't answer to me. But please, try and understand how volatile he can be at the best of times. Respectfully, you weren't there with him - raiding slaver camps and pirate bases. I was. The mere mention of the word 'batarian' and he goes fucking nuts. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say: he probably doesn't want to be reminded about his past by smelling the same cigarettes the slavers smoked. I'm just looking out for him, that's all. He's got the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, and I wouldn't be able to call myself his friend if I didn't try and think about his wellbeing."

Chief Williams kept quiet as she glared at a passer-by who was lingering around uncomfortably, listening to their conversation. They quickly scurried off at the sight of the female marine slowly reaching to the pistol on her hip.

The young N7 kept her cold gaze on the veteran biotic, for some time, before eventually relenting. With a nod of her head, she quietly responded: "You're right, Alenko. I wasn't there. But I'm here now. I'll talk to him about it, and do my best to smoke 'em when he's not around - I can't make any promises though."

"Thank you, Abigail. That's all I ask."

With a snort of derision, Shepard threw her hands up in the air. "For fucks sake, Alenko - call me Abby! I hate it when people call me Abigail!"

The staff lieutenant merely chuckled as he acknowledged his fellow officer. "Then call me Kaidan; it's only fair."

The fiery redhead barked out a laugh before gently patting the biotic marine on his shoulder, "You're alright, Kaidan."

A small smile was the only response the engineer received, as she signalled for the group to get moving again.

Just as they neared the final door to the bar, sounds of raucous laughter emanated from the room. Abby stopped the group before addressing Kaidan: "You really are loyal to my brother, huh?"

"Till the day I die. He's earnt that much."

Addressing the other party member, Abby asked the same question, "And you, Chief Williams?"

Ashley gave a small smile as she regarded her superior: "He rescued me from the geth, back on Eden Prime - alongside the Lieutenant. We've been in plenty of fights since then, and after every single one he's always sought me out and made sure I was okay... The Normandy, and serving under the Commander, are the best assignments I've ever had. I'll follow him to the ends of the universe, ma'am. You can count on that."

A warm smile split the redhead's lips as she signalled for Ashley and Kaidan to enter first, the answers she'd received more than satisfactory.

As the trio entered, the bar seemed to be like anywhere else on the Presidium: a few tables littered the room, and a selection of spirits, wines and bottles were present on a wall behind the bar itself. A human bartender smiled genially in their direction as he continued wiping up a spillage; various other diplomatic personnel were engaging in conversations around the room - they didn't even lift their heads to see who the newcomers were.

Interestingly enough, there was a table in the far corner of the room where three Alliance personnel were situated.

The Normandy trio drew closer to the Alliance table, before Kaidan swore loudly. "You've got to be fucking kidding me... Pearson, Singh, Wojciechowski, what are the fuck are you doing in here?! This bar's for diplomatic personnel only!"

The addressed marines quickly stumbled to attention before being quickly motioned by Alenko to sit down.

"Well? Is someone going to explain how you got in here? And how the hell, are you all so drunk already? You only got off the Normandy a couple of hours ago!" Kaidan seemed to be seething at this point.

The marines seemed to stutter out their responses in unison, before a raised hand from Lieutenant Shepard cut their attempted explanations short. Motioning to the door, the N7 quickly and quietly gave them a get-out-of-jail-free card: "If I was you, I'd find a bar down in the Wards before the Lieutenant decides to cut your Shore Leave short..."

The marines slowly looked at each other, before quickly gathering their bottles and making for the door. Whooping and hollering could be heard from the drunken trio as they left the confines of the bar.

Kaidan merely looked towards Shepard; his eyes relaying his unspoken question as to why she'd let them off that easy.

"We've all been there, Kaidan. And I don't fancy calling my brother to tell him some of his marines managed to find their way into a bar surrounded by the embassies of the various Council races. We can deal with them once we're aweigh. Till then, better they cause trouble down in the Wards than up here with all the gentle folk."

"The Lieutenant's got a point, LT." Ashley said, as she regarded her squad mates.

Alenko merely sighed, as he made his way over to the bartender. Drawing near, he addressed the older human, behind the bar: "I apologise if those, marines, caused you any issues, sir."

The bartender merely laughed as he placed the rag he was cleaning the bar's surfaces with, over his shoulder. "You kidding me? They practically cleared out my entire stock! Even the bottles the diplomats turn their noses up at. They weren't any bother to me; the people sat around these tables have seen worse, believe me son."

Abby spoke next, her voice low as she grabbed the bartender's attention. "Excuse me, could you point us in the direction of a Mr. Bosker, please?"

"Certainly. He's over there, in the corner. The gentleman in the blue suit."

The redhead gave the older human a disarming smile as she backed away: "Thank you so much."

Drawing near, the trio could hear Mr. Bosker finishing up what seemed to be an important call. "Yes... the results certainly seem promising. We'll have to do some more testing, but we should hopefully be able to have some prototypes drawn up in the next six-months..."

Clearing her throat, the N7 introduced herself: "Mr. Bosker?"

Closing his omni-tool, the clerk wearily eyed the marines in front of him. "Yes... Is there something I can assist you with?"

Shepard gave a small laugh as another smile split her lips; this one, however, was far more vicious and cold than the one she used with the bartender: "Yeah, there is. You can cut the red tape for a grieving husband. I want you to release the body of Nirali Bhatia."

Bosker folded his arms over his chest, his countenance suddenly turning haughty. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Kaidan jumped in at this, before Shepard could say anything: "We're Alliance marines, serving under humanities first Spectre - Commander Shepard. I'm sure you've heard of him."

The clerk practically jumped out of his skin at the mention of the Butcher, his confident physiognomy having quickly washed away: "C-Commander Shepard? Yes... I know about him... His activities made for quite the briefing in the Diplomatic Corps!"

Alenko nodded his head as he quickly flashed the Spectre credentials that Shepard had provided them, during his briefing earlier. "The Commander's taken a personal interest in Mr. Bhatia's case - he's sent us to make sure it's resolved as quickly and efficiently as possible."

"I-I see. I would love to assist you - nothing would make me happier to release Serviceman Nirali Bhatia's body, but it's really not that simple..."

Chief Williams responded next; her words clipped as the hand on the pistol at her waist threatened imminent violence if she didn't like the answer she heard: "Explain it to us then. And make it simple."

With an audible gulp, Mr. Bosker answered: "Serviceman Nirali Bhatia died on Eden Prime, as Mr. Bhatia no doubt told you. Her wounds are inconsistent with any type of weapon damage we've seen before. That, is why her body is being held."

Abby retorted in an analytical manner. "So, you're holding her body because you think it might be dangerous or contaminated?"

With a shake of his head, the quickly terrified man replied: "N-No, ma'am. Nirali Bhatia is not dangerous. Her body is, in fact, extremely valuable to the Alliance. The tests we are conducting may lead to better defences against geth attacks. Respectfully, Serviceman Bhatia may save more lives in death than she did in life."

The N7 nodded her head in understanding as she continued asking her questions: "How long do you think the research is going to take?"

Bosker gave a small sigh, as he gave a shrug of his shoulders. "This is a long-term study. I wouldn't expect the bodies to be released for a year... maybe longer."

"Bodies? So you've got multiple bodies to test on? Surely you can release one of them."

Nodding his head, the clerk explained: "Very few bodies had this new type of weapon damage, and very few were in good enough condition to study. Beyond that, ma'am, we need as many bodies as we can to get a reasonable sample size."

The engineer contemplated the diplomat's words, as she asked her final question: "When will this research result in actual new technology?"

"If we're lucky, we'll actually realize usable technology from this study in a few years."

"A few years, huh? I see..." Abby took a menacing step forward, until she was close enough to see what food Mr. Bosker still had stuck between his teeth, before she made her threats: "You know about my brother, Mr. Bosker. But let me assure you, blood isn't the only thing we share - his exploits are widely known; mine aren't. And that's because I prefer working under the radar... so people don't see me coming. If I want Nirali Bhatia, I can get her."

The clerk took a step backwards, until his back was quite literally against the wall, before he stuttered out his response: "P-Please... I don't think threats are n-necessary. Even if the body were here, on the Citadel, would you really risk going in 'shooting' to get it?!"

Kaidan smirked, as his left hand began to radiate with biotic power: "How far do you think we're willing to go on this, Mr. Bosker?" Simultaneously, Chief Williams took a step forward - her sidearm now having been drawn from her hip and being pointed dangerously towards the clerk's crotch.

The clerk threw his hands in the air; his eyes sullen with defeat. "Fine! All right, you win! It was hard enough refusing Mr. Bhatia. I'm not going to risk an incident by refusing you. Tell Samesh that the body is being shipped back to Earth. I-I'll go now to see to it myself."

And with that, the defeated man made a quick exit out of the bar.

The trio of marines looked at each other; pride filtering through their expressions. They knew they'd done the right thing by releasing Serviceman Bhatia's body back to her husband - she'd given enough for the Alliance. She'd earnt the right to an eternal rest.

Before they exited the bar, to inform Mr. Bhatia of Mr. Bosker's sudden change of heart, Abby approached the bartender once more.

"Can I grab a drink, please?"

"Of course you can! What can I get you?"

"Three 'kamikaze' shots, please. Don't skimp on the triple sec. "

"Yes ma'am, coming right up!"

Ashley drew closer, her voice low but passionate, "Nirali would have approved, ma'am. She was always a straight shooter - she hated bureaucratic bullshit."

Abby gave a small smile as she merely nodded her head. Within moments, the bartender produced three shot glasses filled with a cloudy liquid; a small wedge of lime perched on the rim of every shot.

"That'll be fifty credits, please."

Wordlessly, the N7 gave a wave of her hand; her omni-tool aglow. Seconds later, the bartender gave a small smile as he began wiping the bar's surface once more.

Passing the shots to the Normandy's marines, Abby bit into the wedge of lime before raising her glass. "To the fallen. Na zdrowie!"

Within one fluid motion, the shot glass was drained and the N7 slammed it back on the bar. Kaidan followed suit immediately; the shot glass being drained in one gulp. It was only Ashley that was taking her own personal moment to pay her respects, before she too knocked the shot back in one.

Shepard quickly motioned for the marines to fall in. "Come on, let's give Samesh the good news."

---

The journey back to the reception area of the embassies from the bar didn't seem to take nowhere near as long, for the Alliance trio.

As soon as Mr. Bhatia came into sight, he suddenly sprang up from his seated position. His eyes were bloodshot, and his bone-white beard seemed to be stained with tears. Wiping his face, the grieving husband couldn't help the words that leaked out. "W-Well, Lieutenant? Has there been any word?"

Abby gave a simple hand gesture, indicating Ashley take centre stage. The Gunny stepped forwards, taking the man's hands into her own before answering. "We reminded Mr. Bosker what we're fighting for; what we risk our lives for every single day, and what we're ultimately capable of. Your wife's coming home, Samesh."

No words seemed to be able to escape from the Asian man's throat, as he merely nodded his head. Fresh tears streaked down his cheeks; a warm smile splitting his lips as his eyes twinkled with relief.

Eventually, he found his words: "Thank you, all of you. I will return home, and begin my preparations. It does not bring me happiness, but it may bring me peace."

The man released his grip from the Chief's, before bowing slightly. Just as he was about to walk away, Ashley's words stopped him in his tracks: "Samesh? I don't know if this helps but your wife... Nirali loved you, very much. She'd always speak of you with such pride."

A small tear cascaded down Ashley's cheek as she continued; her voice cracking with emotion: "She used to say the chow we had on base, was shit compared to your cooking. And... she used to play recordings of you, every night before she went to sleep. Whenever she had the chance, she spoke about how much she missed your hugs, and how you used to sing for her; 'He has the voice of an angel, Chief, if only you could hear him'. Just, please know... she'll be missed."

Mr. Bhatia gave one final smile, his words soft as he coped with the surge of emotions running through his veins. "I know, Miss Williams. But thank you. It is nice to hear it again."

And with that the grieving husband left the trio standing alone, in the middle of the embassies reception area.

Nobody said anything for a time before Abby let out a long, shaky sigh. "And here I thought I'd be coming aboard to kill synthetics... I didn't expect to be getting emotionally gut-punched within my first few hours of assignment to the Normandy."

Alenko stared into the distance; his gaze fixated on a slowly moving sky-car: "I'd say you get used to it, but we all know that's not true."

Ashley wiped away her tears, and gave a loud sniffle before appraising the N7: "We did a good thing there, ma'am. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Chief. It was a group effort." Reaching for the crumpled packet in her jacket pocket, Abby addressed the human biotic, "You heard anything from the Commander, Kaidan?"

"Funnily enough, he's just messaged. He's asked us to speak to some reporter near the entrance to Flux... an 'Emily Wong'. She's been hounding the Commander for assistance into a matter we previously dealt with - a criminal called Fist - but he thinks there might be more to the situation than she's letting on."

The N7 gave a grunt as she gently shook her lighter: "Great. Just great. Remind me to thank my brother for giving us these shitty jobs, when we should be getting drunk with the rest of the marines."

Alenko began to unconsciously rub his temples as the beginnings of an unwelcome migraine made itself apparent; his response was perhaps more clipped than it should have been. "Will do, Shepard."

Shepard motioned for the squad to make their way out of the embassies, and towards the Wards elevators, before an elderly human man blocked their path.

Ambassador Udina, accompanied by two assistants carrying datapads, gazed upon the two heavily armed marines and casually dressed redhead; a cigarette still loosely hanging from her lips. A wicked smirk split the man's lips as he acknowledged the group: "Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams - what a pleasant surprise! I would have assumed you'd be accompanying your commander, or at the very least relaxing in one of the many reputable entertainment establishments in the Wards."

Both marines said nothing, as they waited for Udina to direct his attention towards the female Shepard.

"And who's this? Another member of the Commander's crew that I was unaware of?"

Quickly taking the cigarette from her mouth and placing it in her pocket, a cool tone of voice punctuated her reply: "Lieutenant Abigail Shepard, sir. A pleasure to meet you." An outstretched hand towards the ambassador suddenly put the onus on him, to be on the backfoot.

Without missing a beat, however, the seasoned politician firmly grasped the proffered hand. His words dripped with seemingly false pleasantries: "Ah, the Commander's sister! Yes, I was told you'd be joining the Normandy's crew in hunting down Saren Arterius. It's always good to put a face to a name, don't you think?"

Abby could only weakly smile as she prayed to God the man would let go of her hand already - his hand was so clammy, and cold, she thought she was shaking hands with a corpse.

Luckily, Kaidan addressed humanities ambassador with a question that caused him to redirect his attention away from the N7. "I believe you have a meeting with the Commander soon, Ambassador. Is that right?"

Udina's face was suddenly overcome with a thunderous frown, as he slowly released his grip on Shepard's hand. "Yes... I've had to push the meeting back. More pressing matters have come to my attention; I'm sure you understand how busy I am. I've already informed humanities first Spectre that I'll be meeting with him later on - when my schedule is freed up somewhat."

Alenko merely nodded his head as he took a step forwards - trying to indicate they too, had somewhere to be. "Absolutely, sir. I know he'd understand."

Humanities ambassador signalled for his assistants to fall in, as he began making his way back to his offices: "It was good to finally meet you, Lieutenant Shepard. And to see you again, Lieutenant Alenko; Chief Williams. But you must forgive me - I really do have pressing matters to attend to."

Shepard took her own step forward as she falsely smiled in response; no words escaping her ruby lips. Once the ambassador was out of sight, Abby let out another heavy sigh: "What a fucking creep..."

Ashley shook with mirth as she fell in behind the Lieutenant: "Yep. You're definitely the Commander's sister."

Kaidan gave a chuckle of his own, before addressing the engineer: "Do you want me to take point, Shepard?"

Lighting her cigarette, Abby took a quick drag before waving the human biotic onwards: "Lead the way, Kaidan. Let's find this reporter."

---

Rapping his gauntleted fingers against the sides of the open door frame, the former C-Sec detective spoke aloud: "Dr. Michel? Everything okay in here? I heard a raised voice..."

Garrus and Tali quickly entered the medical clinic, allowing the door to softly shut behind them as they approached the room's only inhabitant.

Dr. Michel wordlessly gave her greeting to the alien duo, as she continued conversing with a distorted voice; the monitor on the wall she was speaking into, flickered intermittently. "No, I don't think you understand. I need those supplies for my clinic. I can't just give them away!"

A low, menacing chuckle punctuated the monitor's next statement: "You can, and you will. Otherwise, your story won't stay secret for long."

The human doctor pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration as she let out a lengthy sigh. When no response from the French woman was forthcoming, the distorted voice finished its threats: "Don't disappoint me, Doctor. You've got one hour." And with that, the call was disconnected; the monitor immediately ceased its flickering.

Dr. Michel violently swore; something even Garrus and Tali's translators couldn't pick-up fully. The human woman tried her best to put a positive smile on her face as she regarded the Normandy duo. "Officer Vakarian, I must say what a pleasure it is to see you again. And Miss Zorah! You look much better than the last time I saw you; it's good to see you too!"

Tali beamed brightly towards her one-time medic. "Thank you, Dr. Michel. A lot has certainly changed since we last saw each other."

"Please, call me Chloe. We're all old friends here; formalities can be left at the door."

The good doctor took a step forward, a hand outstretched towards the turian. Garrus' sub-harmonics trilled with mirth as his mandibles unconsciously flexed - taking the proffered hand into his own, he shook it warmly.

Tali couldn't but notice the pair didn't let go of each other's hands straight away; a fit of coughing causing the turian and human to quickly realise they weren't alone.

"My goodness, Miss Zorah! That cough doesn't sound very healthy - are you sure you're okay?" The French woman's inflexion caused her words to sound somewhat funny to Tali's ears. With a slight wheezing chuckle, Tali waved her hand to signify she was fine.

"I'm okay, Doctor - really. I'm just fighting an infection off. Things got a little dicey on our last mission, but I'll live."

Chloe's eyes went wide as she appraised the young woman in front of her again. Yes... she certainly did look different to when she last saw her. A thick, onyx black armour set covered her enviro-suit, and a whole host of weaponry could be seen on her back and hips. Not to mention a particularly large, vicious looking knife in a smooth leather holster attached snugly around her leg.

She didn't seem to be the same scared and naïve quarian that the human had patched up so many months ago...

Dragging herself out of her inner musings, the human addressed the aliens: "Apologies, how rude of me! Is there something I can do for you both? Do you require medical treatment; antibiotics perhaps?"

Garrus shook his head gently, before addressing the doctor. "We'd been told by our commander that you wished to speak with me, Doctor."

The French woman scoffed loudly as she pointed towards a nearby wall: "That? It seems insignificant in comparison to the situation I'm in now... I wanted to speak to you about getting C-Sec to do some more patrols on this level of the Wards; kids have been causing a nuisance with graffiti and general vandalism. They're scaring my patients away. But now, I'm afraid I may need to ask for your help with a much bigger problem - something that I can't go to C-Sec with..."

Raising his mandibles slightly in surprise, the turian replied passionately. "We'll do whatever we can to help, Chloe. Just name it."

Dr. Michel wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye as she warmly regarded the heavily armed alien in front of her; her voice soft as she placed a hand on Garrus' arm: "Thank you, Garrus. That means a lot to hear, right now."

Tali looked on incredulously at the pair as she coughed once more - this time, on purpose. When she'd gotten the human's attention, she asked the most poignant question that came to mind: "Who was that voice we heard on the monitor, Doctor?"

Chloe sighed heavily, her hand coming up to rest on her forehead as she began her explanation; her words become more harried and panicked towards the end. "It was someone from my past... They've somehow found out that before I opened my own practice, I was fired by my previous employer for handing out free medical supplies to struggling clinics. They never filed any charges against me - they just wanted me to leave, without any fuss. But now I'm being blackmailed for my own supplies... I have no choice, I have to give them what they want! If I don't, and the Citadel Medical Board finds out about my past, I could lose my license. They'd shut down my clinic! So many people rely on me for free treatment and care... I can't let them down!"

Garrus raised his hand in a pacifying gesture, his tone gentle as he began asking his questions. "Don't worry, we won't let it come to that. We can help. Tell us what they want, exactly."

Dr. Michel numbly nodded her head as she pointed to some pre-packed crates, neatly stacked in a corner of the room. "I have to give some of my medical supplies to a merchant in the markets, nearby. Like you've already heard - I've got one hour to deliver them."

"Okay, give us your contact's name. We'll go and deal with them, whoever they are."

The human's eyes went wide as she unconsciously looked at the heavy weaponry the pair were carrying around so nonchalantly. "D-Deal with them? But... won't they expose my past?"

It was the clipped, vicious laugh that came from the quarian's vocaliser that caught Chloe off-guard. "Don't worry, Doctor. They won't say anything, to anyone, once we're done with them."

Feeling hope return to her once more, the good doctor permitted herself a small smile: "I was told to speak to a merchant named 'Morlan', down in the markets. Thank you - the both of you, for helping me with this. I won't ever forget it."

Tali said nothing, but simply smiled at the kind woman, as she made her way to the clinic's exit. Garrus seemed to linger for a moment before he too gave the doctor a small smile, and exited to find 'Morlan'.

As the door shut softly behind them, Garrus pointed to a nearby service corridor. "We'll go this way. It's the quickest way to the markets, and we'll avoid the crowds."

The young quarian merely nodded her head as she fell in beside her dextro teammate.

As the pair entered the service corridor, it was the turian that spoke first: "Thanks for agreeing to help out with this, Tali. I appreciate it."

Tali gave a small chuckle as she manoeuvred her way past a lumbering Keeper. "You're welcome, Officer Vakarian." The young dextro woman stressed Garrus' former title, and tried to mimic Dr. Michel's elongated pronunciation in a playfully mocking tone.

If Tali didn't know any better, she could swear that her dextro companion's face plates seem to change colour slightly with embarrassment. Satisfied with the result, she continued speaking - her usual Slavic tone in place. "Shepard asked me to make sure you don't get into any trouble. What kind of quarian would I be if I disobeyed a direct order from my Captain?"

The former C-Sec' detective smirked at this statement; his sub-harmonics once again trilling with mirth. "Oh... Is that what you're calling it? Just following orders from your Captain? I'm surprised you didn't argue to stay with him, instead of agreeing to defend the poor, defenceless turian."

If it wasn't for the heavily-opaque visor, Garrus would have been able to clearly see the fierce blush that spread across Tali's features at the mention of staying close to her captain. Without missing a beat, however, Tali gave back as good as she'd got. "It's not my fault you need me to make sure you don't get squashed like a rachni worker. You were lucky I saved your hide back on Ontarom!"

Tali was expecting some witty rebuttal, but her turian counterpart said nothing in response for a time; a weak smile the only expression she could discern as to his mood.

Nearing the end of the corridor, the quarian engineer let guilt get the best of her. "Sorry, Garrus. That was unfair. I shouldn't joke about things like that... I've gotten too comfortable working alongside humans, I think. They're constantly insulting one another, and I get carried away with it sometimes."

Vakarian gave a low chuckle as he slammed the haptic interface of a door that would lead them straight to the markets. "You don't have to apologise, Tali. You're right - I was lucky you saved me. I got sloppy; careless. I was too focused on shooting those mercs, than I was with my surroundings. I couldn't let the marines think I didn't have their backs, so I just kept scoped in and picking off what lone targets I could."

Tali, didn't understand. "So why did you go quiet then? Is that some 'turian' thing I'm unaware of? I expected you to say something back at me."

Garrus' voice was low as he quietly responded: "I was just thinking what my father would have said, if I told him a quarian had saved me from being killed by a human. No doubt he would have had plenty to say."

The young dextro woman clapped the armoured turian on the shoulder, before they entered the markets. "Well if your father's anything like mine, he'd disapprove of everything we've done so far. Keelah… I haven't even told him I'm serving on a human warship; I've only told my Auntie Raan, and I've sworn her to secrecy about it all."

The former C-Sec detective barked out a laugh as he began scanning the various stalls laid out in front of them. "Have you told your aunt about the crew you're serving with?"

"Yes. I've told her all about you, Wrex, Liara and the other humans onboard."

"What about a particular human? Have you said anything to her, about him?"

Tali's face burned fiercely once more as she gently shook her head. "What's to tell? He's my captain. That's it."

Garrus scoffed incredulously as he regarded the quarian next to him. "I've seen the way you look at him; how you follow him whenever he enters, or exits a room. The way you listen to every word that escapes his lips. I can also see when you're smiling... you tilt your head slightly and your eyes brighten ever so slightly. When you're around Shepard you're practically beaming, all the time."

Dejectedly, Tali replied - her hands coming to dance a mad flurry at her waist. "He's my captain... and that's it. Besides, we have more important things to worry about - like stopping Saren and the geth. When I'm finished with my pilgrimage, I'll be back on the fleet being a productive member of quarian society and he'll be doing whatever he does for the Alliance, or the Council..."

Another scoff from the turian. "You don't really believe that, right? The only times I've seen him genuinely smile recently is when you're around - cracking jokes or teasing him. And believe me, I think the rest of the crew - myself included - prefer it when he's happy, compared to when he's volatile and angry."

A small sniffle emanated from Tali's vocaliser; Garrus didn't know whether it was from her infection, or her emotions running rampant. If he had to... he'd have bet credits on the latter. Tali solemnly finished voicing aloud the nagging thoughts she'd been harbouring for weeks now. "He could be with someone that doesn't need to spend the rest of their life in a fre'eging enviro-suit. He could be happy teasing and joking with someone else, I'm sure. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of that - I couldn't stand in the way of that. It wouldn't be right."

"Tali you are one of the most gifted, most talented, and most intelligent people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. But you really do say the stupidest things sometimes..."

A snotty laugh punctuated the gentle jab sent towards the turian's ribs: "Bosh'tet."

Chuckling along with the playful action, Garrus dodged the jab with ease. Seeing some heads turning their way, the turian turned serious. The taller dextro nodded his head towards a row of market stalls. "You take that side, and see if you can find this 'Morlan'. I'll take the other side. If you find them, send me a notification on my omni-tool and I'll come straight over; I'll do the same for you."

"Copy that, Officer Vakarian."

Shaking his head, Garrus began inspecting the stalls - a small smile on his face at Tali's attempt at a French accent.

After asking a few market traders about 'Morlan', Garrus was directed towards a shifty looking salarian at the back of the market. Turning around to see where Tali was, he could see the young woman was in a fierce negotiation with an elcor over some small black box.

Deciding he could handle 'Morlan' on his own, the turian approached. Within moments, the shifty salarian spread his arms wide - his tongue quickly licking against his lips at the prospect of fleecing a new customer. "Hello there! Welcome to Morlan's famous shop. You want many good supplies, yes?"

Bowing his head, and keeping his voice low, Garrus responded with a conspiratorial whisper: "I've been told you were expecting a delivery of medical supplies?"

The slimy salarian salesman's confident physiognomy faltered as his eyes went wide. Looking around in a panic, the amphibian's eyes were constantly scanning as he replied: "B-But I was told the doctor would be bringing them."

With a smirk, Garrus nodded his head slightly. "Change of plans. You're dealing with me now, instead."

Stuttering out his words, the salarian went a paler shade of green than he already was: "A c-change? But... the doctor... I don't... This is not right, turian."

All of a sudden, a hulking krogan emerged from the shadows - his tone venomous as he pointed a stubby finger towards the shopkeeper: "Shut up, Morlan! I knew you'd screw this up."

Glancing Garrus up and down, with his emerald lizard-like eyes, the krogan sized up his potential prey. "Who are you? What the hell's going on here?!"

With his arms out as a gesture of pacification, the turian quickly replied: "Relax. I'm simply here to make sure you leave Dr. Michel alone, that's all."

The krogan began looking around; trying to see if a trap had been sprung, and he'd been unwittingly caught. When he couldn't see any other apparent threats, the krogan growled out his response; his words emanating an aura of impending violence against the stupid turian. "Is that right? We could stop all of this, right now, if you just bring me the supplies. Otherwise, I'll have to start spreading the doctor's dirty little secret around. But by all means - give me an excuse to hurt you!"

Surprisingly, the turian didn't flinch at the threat. If anything, it made him more bold. Within mere moments, the turian had swiftly moved to the side of the krogan and had an arm draped lazily across his giant hump.

"W-What are you-"

"Quiet. You've said your piece, now I'll say mine." The turian had somehow managed to unholster a pistol, and it was now jabbing just below the krogan's second heart; just in the small of his back.

Audibly gulping, the krogan tried to turn and look towards his new foe before a painful jab with the pistol's barrel into the soft, fleshy parts of his back caused him to wince - the blackmailer knew that meant to not make any sudden moves; message received.

Garrus drew closer to the krogan; his aim not wavering in the slightest as he softly spoke. "Do you see that quarian, over there with the elcor? Don't speak - just nod your head and listen."

The blackmailer didn't move a muscle, until the former C-Sec officer jabbed him again. Wincing with pain, the krogan slowly nodded his head.

"Good. Now, you should be praying to whatever gods you krogan keep that I'm talking to you about Dr. Michel, rather than that quarian. You see, she has this thing about killing krogan-"

Another audible gulp signified the blackmailer had clearly bitten off more than he could chew. Garrus could sense the fear radiating from the larger creature, as he continued whispering his threats: "-I've seen it first hand. Now, I know you must be wondering: 'how could a little quarian like her, kill a fully grown krogan'? It's ludicrous, right?"

As the krogan was about to open his mouth to respond, another jab made him think otherwise. He decided to merely nod his head, instead. The turian, carried on talking - as if nothing had happened: "Granted, she's a bit taller than other quarian females I've seen. She's certainly got more muscle and weight behind her, too. But I suppose you can thank her training with our commander for that. You've probably heard of him... He's got many nicknames: the Lion of Elysium, the Survivor of Akuze - my favourite one though, is the Butcher of Torfan. Others call him 'The Maniac'... Quite an apt moniker for him, now that I think about it. But, I digress. That quarian has been taught by the Butcher how to single-handedly disable, and gut a krogan. From tail to head-plate."

The blackmailer began to shake with terror at this point. If Wrex had seen him, he'd have deemed the krogan little more than a clan-less whelp - not worthy of fielding the name 'krogan'. Garrus didn't care - he was having too much fun at this point. He'd seen Shepard do it enough times, and he had to admit: it certainly felt good putting the fear of the Spirits into people.

"You see that knife she carries? The one in the holster, on her leg?"

The krogan felt numb at this point, but managed to dumbly nod his head.

"I once watched her prize the head plate off a krogan warlord, and beat the poor bastard to death with it. Crushed his face into a bloody pulp... She was coated in orange blood afterwards, as I'm sure you can imagine. But do you know what the scariest part was, though? She laughed the entire time she did it... She's more of a 'maniac' than the Butcher, believe me."

Just at that moment, Tali had finished her negotiation with the elcor merchant and was waiting to receive her purchased goods. Turning to see where Garrus was, she spotted him stood next to a large, unarmoured krogan. Jovially, she gave a small smile and a wave in their direction.

"Wave back to her, krogan. Or she'll plaster these walls with your blood."

Smiling like an idiot, the krogan nervously began waving towards the bloodthirsty quarian psychopath - Garrus too giving a wave of his own. At this, Tali turned back around and finished her transaction.

"Now, krogan… do you want me to introduce you to her, or are you going to forget all about Dr. Michel and the good she does for the citizens of the Citadel? Her secret better stay with you until the day you die. Because otherwise, I'll make sure that quarian finds out where you live, and you'll be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of your natural, if not short-lived, life." Withdrawing his sidearm from the blackmailer's back, Garrus finished speaking: "You can speak now."

"F-F-Fuck this! I-I-I don't get paid enough for this s-shit! I won't tell a soul about the doctor and her secret... Just stay the h-hell away from m-m-me!"

Within the blink of an eye, the krogan had hightailed it out of the markets faster than you could say the word 'quarian'.

The turian's sub-harmonics trilled with danger as he rounded on the salarian salesman: "That goes for you too, Morlan. Not one word, to anyone. Or I'll make sure the quarian comes to pay you a visit."

Licking his eyeball's nervously, Morlan merely nodded his head before slowly crouching down behind his stall's counter - out of sight, and out of mind.

Tali slowly made her way across to Garrus, her head cocked to the side gesturing her confusion, before she addressed her teammate. "Why do you look so pleased with yourself? Who was the krogan? And why's that salarian hiding?"

A squeal of terror could be heard from behind Morlan's famous shop counter, before Garrus pointed Tali in the direction of the stairs leading to the upper markets. "Don't worry about it. Let's just say Dr. Michel's not going to be having anymore problems in the near future, concerning people blackmailing her.; we better go and give her the good news."

With that explanation sufficient enough for the young quarian, she began taking two steps at a time up the stairs. Once the pair had reached the top, Tali stopped Garrus in his tracks with an outstretched hand.

Quizzically, the turian regarded the engineer: "What's that?"

"It's a Combat Scanner VII. Supposedly, it's cutting-edge tech according to that shopkeeper. He was trying to charge me one hundred thousands credits for it! Can you believe that?"

Understanding started to slowly dawn on Garrus as he continued to look at the small black box, in the palm of Tali's three fingered hand. "Please tell me you didn't pay that much for it..."

Tossing it nonchalantly in the air, before deftly catching it again, Tali cocked her head to the side; a devious smile on her face - causing her eyes to devilishly twinkle. "Don't be ridiculous, Officer Vakarian. Do you honestly think I would get conned out of one hundred thousand credits by some bumbling elcor? No. I'm a quarian - I value my money too much. I haggled him down; didn't pay a credit over thirty thousand for it."

The taller dextro facepalmed as he asked the question he didn't really want the answer to. "Please tell me that's not for-"

"It's for you, you bosh'tet!"

Tali's bubbly and joyous tone was usually highly infectious - helping to elevate her companions moods considerably, whether aboard the Normandy, or on the battlefield. But Garrus couldn't help the pang of guilt that struck him deep in his heart; her bubbly tone just made him feel awful about receiving this gift.

"Tali… thank you. But you didn't need to get me that. I know credits are more valuable, and hard to come by for quarians-"

"It's my money, I can spend it how I like. I've been saving my combat pay up from the Alliance; I've still got enough to potentially get a decent Pilgrimage gift, when this is all over. So shut up, and turn around a second."

Garrus, didn't comply. He was too stunned to understand the meaning behind Tali's words, so he stood looking at her - his mind drawing a blank. Without a moment of hesitation Tali speedily moved to face her friend's back before rapidly taking his sniper rifle off the left side of his back. Before he could argue, Tali had inserted the mod and handed the rifle back to him. It suddenly sprang to life in his hands and with a few adept -taps- to her omni-tool, Tali folded her arms in triumph.

"Tell me what you can see."

Garrus was simply, baffled. In the corner of his visor, he could see a small holographic circle with numerous dots indicating the various people walking past the pair. He cautiously raised the scope of his rifle to his eye; his weapon expertly pointed away from the civilian populace. Even though he should have had tunnel-vision... he could still see the holographic circle in the corner of his vision.

"I-I can see people walking past us... but how?!"

"The scanner's connected to your visor. When I was down on Ontarom, with the Captain, he'd mentioned he'd added some prototype tech to his rifle. Now I don't have the funds, or connections he does; this was the best I could find. But now, you won't have an excuse in the future if you get jumped whilst you're 'scoped in'. I'm not always going to be around to save you, Garrus."

Holstering his rifle, onto the magnetic strip of his armour, the turian was speechless. In a rare show of emotion, he wrapped the young quarian in a short, but tight embrace.

Tali stood stock still, before reciprocating the friendly gesture - awkwardly patting the turian on the back.

"Thank you, Tali. I mean it."

"You're welcome, Garrus. We're a team, after all. And we've got to look out for each other. I've learnt that much, working alongside the Captain."

Releasing his grasp on the engineer, Garrus' mandibles splayed with joy. Wordlessly, the pair started making their way back to Dr. Michel's clinic.

After a few steps, Tali couldn't help herself. "No offence Garrus, but I think I prefer being embraced by the Captain. You're too... different."

Barking out a laugh, Garrus smiled understandingly. "None taken, Tali. None taken."

"So, are you going to tell me how you dealt with the doctor's blackmailer, or am I just going to have to stand there quietly?"

"I don't think you'd somehow stay quiet, Tali…"

"Good point. Oh, by the way! Once we're done here, Shepard's asked us to help a C-Sec officer deal with a preaching hanar on the Presidium - apparently the hanar's causing problems, and the Captain thinks we'd be best suited to defuse the situation."

Shaking his head with mirth, Garrus said nothing in reply.

In that moment, he'd decided. He'd send his father a message about everything that had been happening - he'd tell him the highs, the lows and everything in between. He'd tell his father about the aliens he was working with; the human warship he was serving on, and how different it all was. And then... Then he'd broach the subject to his old man that he knew would cause an argument. The subject that would cause multiple, violent swears to be uttered by both parties.

Garrus was sick of the red tape of C-Sec, and being able to act freely to deal with Dr. Michel's blackmailer... It was simply invigorating. Being able to work alongside, and even make friends with different aliens who would have been shunned off of the Citadel, was just the proverbial cherry on top for the turian…

He'd re-apply to the Spectres when this was all over.

But that was a problem for another time - for now, he was more than content to serve alongside the Normandy's rag-tag band of soldiers, engineers, and mercs.

Opening the door to the good doctor's clinic, Garrus couldn't help the smile that split his scaly maw.

---

"Commander Shepard, I presume?"

The commander, and Toombs, slowly entered the Shadow Broker's agent's premises. When they were far enough inside the room the door behind them softly, and swiftly, shut - a red lock indicating that no one else would be joining them.

Nodding his head, Chris replied. "That's right. And I assume you're Barla Von? The Shadow Broker agent?"

The seated volus' voice modulator made a weird hissing noise as he awkwardly stood up; his stubby arms pointing first to himself, and then to two chairs on the opposite side of his desk. "Yes, I am Barla Von. And yes, I do offer my services to the galaxy's most powerful and influential information broker. Please, both of you, be seated."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Shepard went to sit down - not before noticing Toombs hadn't moved an inch. The scarred merc's body began to subtly shake:

"I don't like this, Shepard... Why are we locked in here? I-I don't like being locked in rooms!"

Before the Butcher could speak, the volus quickly pressed a button on his omni-tool: the haptic lock instantaneously changed from red, to green. Another low hiss came from the fat alien's mouthpiece, before it began voicing its apologies: "Forgive me. I'm so used to my clients preferring to conduct their business in privacy that it's become almost habit for me to lock the room. Please, Mr. Toombs, you have my solemn promise that nothing will happen to you, or the Commander."

Hearing his name being spoken aloud from a complete stranger caused Toombs' helmet to snap towards the sound, before a subtle hand motioning him to sit down from Shepard, caused the smaller human to acquiesce.

Once everyone was seated, the volus asked a simple question: "Can I offer you both some refreshments?"

Two shaking heads was the only answer given to the alien, as he relented. Placing his hands on the desk in front of him, Barla Von addressed humanities first Spectre. "I'm sure you have some questions before we get to the heart of the matter, Commander. I've been informed that you don't take information at face value after all; a useful trait, I'm sure."

Shepard couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that rushed through his veins as he appraised the rotund alien. Choosing his words carefully, Shepard pointed to the office in general. "I assume this conversation is completely confidential?"

Nodding his suited head, Barla spread his hands wide in a gesture of placation: "I provide financial services to the galaxy's elite, Commander Shepard. Top diplomatic officials; celebrities; even a few Spectres, employ me for my skills. I wouldn't enjoy the privileges that I do, by having 'loose lips' - as you humans so fondly say. I have worked hard to solidify my reputation as one of the best. I own, and operate, in one of the most prominent locations in the Financial Services sector of the Presidium, because I learnt so very long ago to hold my client's secrets to a higher standard than my own. Believe me, Commander - the Shadow Broker wouldn't have employed me for this transaction if they didn't trust in my abilities."

Chris gave a small grunt, as he leant back in the frankly uncomfortable metal chair. "And I assume you've been told-"

Barla Von raised a singular, stubby finger as he cut the larger human off: "Commander, forgive my intrusion, but I think it's best if we 'assume' that I know everything that I need to know about this transaction. I have been adequately informed about the goods that you're wishing to sell to the Shadow Broker, and I am also aware of your desire for this transaction to remain out of both the Alliance's, and the Council's, perspectives."

The Lion said nothing for a time as he unconsciously rolled his shoulders; a slight -pop- sounding in the enclosed room from the action.

It was Toombs that broke the ensuing silence: "So you know everything already - great. Let's get on with it then. We've got places to be, and I'm sure you're a busy guy."

Another hiss from the alien's enviro-suit punctuated the volus' next move. With deft movements, Barla tapped a few haptic keys on his omni-tool. Suddenly, a holographic display was plastered across a nearby metal wall; images of sealed crates and Cerberus commando's in action caused the commander to slightly grimace.

"The Shadow Broker wishes to purchase experimental technology that you... 'acquired', from various Cerberus bases throughout the Attican Traverse. I have been informed that if I am satisfied with our conversation here today, I am to transfer the total sum of ten million credits to an already established account on Illium-"

"Wait, wait, wait... What do you mean an 'already established account'? And where the fuck's 'Illium'? I thought you'd be transferring the credits to my personal account?" Shepard said, confusion evident in his voice as he first looked at Toombs, before resting his gaze on the volus.

Without missing a step, the volus continued his explanation: "-An already established account on Illium, that was created at the behest of the Shadow Broker. Substantial efforts were made to rout the account through various LLC's, and companies across the galaxy; most prominently, throughout the Terminus Systems. In short Commander, no-one apart from the occupants of this room, and the Shadow Broker, will truly know where the account begins and where it ends. This provides protection for not only you, but for the Shadow Broker as well. At the conclusion of our transaction today, you will be provided with all the necessary details to access the account - don't fret."

Chris said nothing, his mind already racing, as he gestured for the fat alien to finish speaking.

When no further interruptions were apparent, Barla Von asked his questions: "Now, I have been led to believe that the technology you wish to sell is still aboard your ship - the SSV Normandy. Is that correct?"

"Well the crates aren't here. So yeah, they're aboard the Normandy. Once the credits have been transferred, or gifted, or... fucking whatever, I'll make sure they're unloaded and left on the dock for collection."

"I see. And what if I am unable to have intermediaries able to collect the cargo straight away? Are you willing to have it left out, in the open for all to see? Or-"

"Well obviously fucking not. We're docked for the next forty-eight hours, at least. You let me know when you can collect the cargo, and I'll make sure it's ready for you."

"Understood. How many crates do you have to sell, exactly? And can you please provide a brief description of what they contain? Just for my records - I'm sure you understand."

Shepard gave a loud sigh, before muttering a silent curse under his breath as he activated his omni-tool. With a quick flick of his hand, information was passed along to the suited volus. "The information's all there for you. Everything's been catalogued."

Barla Von's mouthpiece gave a long, drawn out hiss as he inhaled the surrounding air; quickly reading the proffered document. Eventually, he nodded his head.

"Very good, Commander. It's a pleasure to work with a client as well organised as you are."

A false smile split the titan's lips as he prayed to God the financier would hurry the fuck up. That, didn't seem likely though. Barla Von asked his previous question, again: "Do you have assault rifles to primarily sell, or is it armour? Or is it ammunition mods? Or is it-"

"Five standard size crates of 'Gorgon' assault rifles; two crates of 'Hydra' shotguns; three crates of 'Harpy' pistols, and four large crates of various heavy weapons - there's a selection for the Broker to choose from. I also took four crates of light, and medium, armour - only suited for humans and asari, I'm afraid. Finally, there's five crates of generic weapon, ammunition and armour modifications. All in varying levels of quality - but they're better than most of the shit you'd find on the market."

"I see. One final question, Commander: why are you wanting to sell this equipment? Why not keep it for yourself, and equip your team with it?"

A short bark of laughter preceded the Butcher's response. "Because if my team could kill the commandos using this equipment, then that equipment's worthless to me. I lead trained, disciplined killers into the worst combat zones in the Traverse - they need equipment that won't fail them. They need the best. And only the best, will do."

Barla Von held the large human's gaze for a time, before he pressed one more key on his omni-tool. Without looking away, to the new image on the metal wall, the volus stared the titan down: "And what about the Hyper Rail you used back on Ontarom, Commander? How many of those did you secure?"

Looking quickly to the image of the deceased, shattered krogan mercenary, Shepard returned the cool gaze, and gave his reply: "There's five of them, altogether. They've been lumped in with the other weapon modifications."

"I see."

Closing his omni-tool, Barla Von swiftly produced a tablet from one of the many draws in his metallic desk. Handing it to the commander, the volus's tone seemed to soften: "The Shadow Broker would like to extend a final courtesy to you, Commander Shepard. If you agree to his terms, I'm more than willing to conclude this transaction today and transfer across the necessary funds."

Taking the proffered tablet in his own gauntleted hands, the commander quizzically spoke aloud, "What terms?"

"The Shadow Broker understands the mission you're currently on - hunting down the rogue Spectre, Saren Arterius - is highly dangerous. So, I have been instructed to inform you that you can receive the full sum of credits today, and retain the Hyper Rail's, as well as the prototype rifle I can quite clearly see attached to your back, until the conclusion of your assignment - with the Shadow Broker's blessing."

Shepard's eyes narrowed as he regarded the fat alien. "The Shadow Broker wants to pay me for the Hyper Rails, and my rifle, but let me keep them until I kill Saren? Is that right?"

"That's correct."

"And what if I don't give them back? What if I say 'fuck you, I'm keeping them'? Or, what if I die before my mission is completed? What're they gonna do then?"

The volus' modulator gave another hiss, a smirk evident in the alien's voice. "The Shadow Broker's influence stretches far beyond what you can possibly imagine, Commander. If they want something, they'll get it. By any means necessary."

Before the Butcher could utter his own threats, Toombs, who had been silent throughout all of this, suddenly piped up. "So, where do we sign?"

Looking incredulously at his old friend, Chris gave a small sigh before relenting. "Fine. Tell the Broker, they've got a deal. Once Saren's dead, I'll bring the mods and the rifle straight here."

Clapping his hands together in celebration, the volus happily exclaimed: "Excellent, Commander! Most excellent. Now, if you would be so kind as to read the contract I have provided you on that tablet, and sign where necessary please."

Shepard began perusing the tablet; for a few minutes he actually read the small print. But then, he got bored. Scrolling to the various necessary signature boxes, the commander quickly passed the contract back to the financier.

Placing the tablet back in its draw, Barla Von subsequently drew out a black credit chit - sliding it across the desk towards the human juggernaut.

Taking the chit in his hands, Barla provided the necessary context: "The account that chit belongs to is practically untraceable; you shouldn't have any issues making any purchases with it. If you do, please come back and see me at once."

Slipping the chit inside one of his numerous chest armour pockets, the commander began to stand up. "Let me know when you want the cargo leaving on the dock; I'll make sure it's ready."

"Very good, Commander. Very good." Tapping his omni-tool, the volus also stood up, "Your funds have been released to you, Commander. A pleasure doing business with you."

The fat alien outstretched a three-fingered suited hand as a gesture of a friendship; Chris returned the gesture, but couldn't help comparing the volus' hand to that of Tali's. He instinctively knew whose hand he'd rather be shaking - every time.

Toombs quickly stood and shook the volus' hand, before escaping the enclosed office and basking in the artificial glow of the Presidium. At the doorway's threshold, Barla Von said a final farewell to the pair: "Good luck, Commander! I look forward to seeing you again, in the future."

A small, genuine smile split the Lion's lips as he waved goodbye. When it was just he and Toombs stood together outside the offices, he let out a large sigh. "Thank fuck that's over... I'd rather be shot at by geth than sat in an office like that for the rest of my life..."

Toombs clapped his friend on the shoulder, before motioning towards a set of corridors that would take them to the Lower Wards. "Can we get that drink now? I'm fucking dying of thirst here!"

"Good idea."

The duo began making their way across a bridge, before Toombs spoke up: "So... what are you gonna spend all that money on, Chris?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Shepard continued looking forwards. "I need to speak to the ambassador, or Captain Anderson maybe... See if they can get me an introduction with a weapon manufacturer's representative. I need to outfit every marine on the Normandy with new kit, as well as getting new weapons and armour for my ground team..."

Suddenly, a proverbial lightbulb factory exploded in the scarred merc's head as he stopped the giant titan in his tracks. Opening his omni-tool, to his contact list, Frank hurriedly spat out the thoughts that were cascading in his mind: "Wait a second... I think I can help you with that! I've made some friends as a merc - friends that certainly like to get paid and are more than willing to bend the rules. If you're game, that is."

"What are you talking about, Frank?"

Jabbing a finger towards a specific name on his omni-tool, Toombs exclaimed: "Yeah, yeah! I can make this work - for sure. He's always looking for extra credits..."

"Frank! What are you fucking talking about?!"

"Harkin! He's a guy I know, working in C-Sec. He's recently come off of his suspension. They've got him watching the docks down on one of the wards; Zakera, I think. He could help you out."

The commander involuntarily shuddered as he remembered a small glimpse of the blubbering face of Harkin outside Chora's Den. Saying nothing in response, Frank finished: "We could pay Harkin to see to it that some of the 'contraband cargo' he's watching goes missing, and ends up on your ship. It's genius!"

Shepard's head immediately began rotating on a swivel, as the N7 tried to find any hint from any nearby passers-by that they'd heard the frankly ludicrous plan. When nobody paid the two heavily armed and armoured humans any extra attention than was already necessary, Chris replied - his voice barely more than a whisper: "Frank I'm a Spectre, and a Lieutenant-Commander in the Alliance Navy. I can't rip off C-Sec, or the fucking Alliance! I don't mind bending the rules every now and then but-"

"Who said anything about 'ripping off' the Alliance or C-Sec? Come on, Shepard. Give me some credit, Christ. For the money you're gonna potentially spend, you need some premium firepower and equipment. And you don't see the Council outfitting their public servants with top-of-the-line stuff. Nah... You need equipment that's destined for the private sector."

Looking around nervously, Shepard made a subtle motion with his hands for Frank to keep on talking. The scarred merc couldn't help the smile that split his deformed lips as he continued his explanation. "Mercs, Shepard. The Blue Suns, the Eclipse... Shit, even the goddamn Blood Pack. C-Sec takes more high-tech equipment and fancy toys off of the various merc companies that operate in Council space than you could even dream of; the Blood Pack are banned in this part of the galaxy, and they still manage to have their shit taken off of them. I'm telling you, there's a gold mine not too far away from here - and you could have the pick of the lot. If, you don't mind spending some of your ill-gotten gains to purchase some ill-gotten gains."

A devious smile now split the Butcher's own scarred lips as the thought of equipping his whole ship with high-tech equipment started to outweigh his initial fears. "So C-Sec just keeps all this stuff locked away? They don't think to use it for their own ends?"

"Of course they do. Most of the good stuff's earmarked and distributed as soon as it's in their hands. But, there's always more coming in. And I know Harkin's let some of the mercs generously garnish his wages so they can have their stuff back before the higher ups at C-Sec know what's happening - I've paid him off a few times myself."

The Lion began slowly nodding his head: "Okay... But say some of this 'equipment' goes missing and gets delivered to the Normandy - I don't imagine the mercs are going to be best pleased; I can't really afford to make more enemies at this point in time - I've got enough on my plate with Saren, the geth and the Reapers."

"Yeah, right... I've heard the stories, Shepard - you've killed people for less. I would have thought you'd have enjoyed the idea of taking the mercs' toys from them and doing some good with them."

Looking across the gleaming high-rises and gardens of the Presidium, Chris said nothing for a time as he weighed his options up. Should he take Toombs up on his offer, and steal from the mercs to equip himself, and his team, for the fights ahead? Or should he go about this in a more legitimate manner - through the proper channels?

Without another moments hesitation, the commander gave a final nod of his head. Slipping the black credit chit from his chest piece, he deftly handed it to his old friend. "Set it up, Frank. Just for fucks sake, make sure the equipment he 'mistakenly loses' wasn't already put to one side for C-Sec. I need enough weaponry, armour and modifications for the entire ship - if you have to use the whole chit, do it."

A sloppy salute was the only response Shepard received as the other Survivor of Akuze began frantically tapping away on his omni-tool.

The Lion checked his own omni-tool; swearing violently under his breath as he realised the time: "I've gotta go and see this 'Nassana Dantius' in the embassy bar, and then see Ambassador Udina - I'm already five minutes late. Send me the location of that bar, in the lower Wards, and I'll meet you there."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

Chris began unconsciously walking towards the embassies before stopping suddenly in his tracks. Turning to face Toombs, he shouted: "Oh! And don't drop my name in the conversation, Frank, please. The less I'm associated with this, the better."

A short, guttural laugh sounded from Toombs enclosed helmet as he looked at his friend quizzically. "There's a story there, but I'm not even going to ask... Go and see the diplomats, and then we can get that drink. I should have some more details for you, by then. The first round's on you, though!"

Waving his hand in agreement, the commander hurriedly broke off in a sprint.

Frank merely watched his friend go, before activating the comms inside of his helmet. With an audible *click*, the line was established. "Harkin, it's your ol' pal Toombs. I've got an offer for you, that you'd be fucking stupid to refuse. How would you like to be five million credits richer than you currently are, and you'd actually be doing the galaxy some good?"

---

I hope you enjoyed this one - I certainly had fun writing it!

This chapter was initially only going to be around 5,000 words, but then I just kept going, and going, and going. Let me know if you'd like another chapter like this in the future; where we go in depth into some of the more glossed-over side quests.

As I'm sure you're all aware by now: the characters I'm presenting are not clean carbon-cut copies of what we see and interact with in the games. Bioware owns the content; I'm just garnishing it with my own little twists.

I'll see you in the next one!