Prologue

Through Shoals of Dust

Rael'Reegar nar Neema vas Moreh never considered himself to anything more than an ordinary citizen of Rannoch. What he had trouble reminding himself was the very fact that he'd been raised on Rannoch made him unordinary.

His people had spent three hundred years wandering the stars, driven from their homeworld by the geth. At least, that was what they'd been taught. The truth, as Zaal'Koris put it, was far more depressing.

After creating the geth, a race of networked synthetics, the race became sentient, and fearful of an uprising the quarians had tried to shut them down. The resulting Morning War, as it was now known, cost countless lives, all for nothing.

The geth had never been planning an attack. They protected themselves from the assault and, confused, began building their own future while they waited for their masters to return.

And they had returned after three hundred years, led by Rael's mother and her best friend: Commander Shepard. The quarians had been preparing for a war to retake the home world. The Conclave, their government, had approved it. Their Migrant Fleet had readied for it. And the Admiralty Board had overruled it.

It was the fifth time in the history of the flotilla the Admiralty Board had overruled the Conclave. It was also the reason his mother was no longer part of it. It was a story his father, Kal'Reegar, loved retelling. His mother had been nominated to take his grandfather's (Rael'Zorah, for whom he was named) place on the Admiralty Board. And she had done so, only to resign the post within the same year.

While the Conclave had been ready to go to war, the Admiralty Board had insisted, unanimously, that a war would be unnecessary. Rannoch was waiting for them, and they had only to go home. It had been unprecedented, monumental, historical, and according to many: completely mad.

The Admiralty Board had only the word of Commander Shepard and a mobile geth platform that went by the alias 'Legion.' Their word proved to be true. The fleet had landed on Rannoch only to be welcomed timidly home. Most of the geth had left to take their place in a Dyson Sphere in one of the solar systems in the Perseus Veil. Those that stayed had split, and became a new faction known as the Legion, who wished to live side-by-side with their former masters.

All of this was history to Rael'Reegar. He had been born on the Neema, raised on Rannoch, and joined the Moreh after his Pilgrimage. Before he was born, the quarians had needed to go on pilgrimage to support the Migrant Fleet, and while they continued to take care of what ships remained after the Reaper War, it was no longer necessary for their survival.

It was, however, necessary if they wanted to maintain their fleet and remain one of the major powers on the Citadel. That, to Rael, was what was current, and what was important. As the first quarian Spectre, he guessed it was no surprise.

After their role in the Reaper War, the quarians had pushed for and been granted their old embassy on the Citadel, and then continued to push for a seat on the Council. The embassy was granted almost without delay. Everyone remembered the countless heroics of the Migrant Fleet and their willingness to evacuate planets ravaged by the Reapers. Except for Rael, who hadn't been born yet, and then as the war continued, had been too young.

After his role in the Migrant Marines during the Second Heretic War, alongside the Legion and his fellow quarians, Rael had been presented with several others to the Council to be reviewed as a potential Spectre. He had no doubt that his parents, who were both known as heroes throughout the galaxy, were part of the reason he'd been accepted.

It hadn't bothered him. What did bother him was having to wear his envirosuit whenever he was off Rannoch, on missions for the Council. Still, if that was the only price he had to pay to get his people a seat at the heart of galactic government he would have worn an envirosuit for the rest of his life. As history and his parents told him, it was what quarians used to do anyway.

Rael rolled his shoulder in his armor and tugged on the buckle across his chest. The Spectre symbol glittered along with his other metals, the only decorative parts of his otherwise mottled black and gray gear. The older quarians, and some of the more recent generations, decorated their envirosuits with scarves and patterned wraps to help identify and express themselves. Rael knew who he was. He didn't need his suit to tell him.

What he would have liked was for his suit to help cool him down. Intai'sei was a desert: hot and uncomfortable. He had built in climate control, but there was only so much it could do before the draw backs of a full bodysuit of heavy armor began to take its toll.

He could have come in his suit alone, without his armor, but he was more cautious than that. It wasn't that he didn't trust humans. He could have landed at Thoreau Mesa suit free and would have trusted them to take him to a clinic when he passed out from infection. Rael liked humans. Especially their Councilor, Gianna Parasini, who had taken over after the late Donnel Udina had died of a broken neck. (C-Sec never found the culprit, though there were whispers that they didn't try very hard.)

No, Rael liked and trusted humans. What he didn't trust was walking into a combat zone unprepared, which this mission might very well turn out to be.

The very fact that he wasn't sure what to expect was proof that it was his first mission not given to him by the Council or the Migrant Fleet; it was something Rael had chosen to do on his own. He'd heard the whispers, the rumors of a coming war that could change the face of the galaxy forever.

So soon after the Reaper War, Rael knew the Council wouldn't take him seriously. His own parents struggled to take him seriously, but all his leads and searching pointed towards the same conclusion. War was coming, and the galaxy wasn't ready for it. They were still coming off the battle-high of the Reaper War, fleets of nearly every Council race weren't half of what they used to be. The Council races weren't half of what they used to be.

They'd lost countless heroes, names whispered reverently like prayers. And Commander Shepard's was at the top.

Her death had stirred the Council races, and it had stirred their enemies. They watched the war from a distance, and while the Council races suffered, they had bided their time. Rael knew what they planned to unleash, and he knew in his heart Commander Shepard was the only one who could stop them.

He also knew what so few others did. That Commander Shepard had never really died. What he didn't know what was whether she'd be willing to come out of retirement (or what someone like that considered retirement) to help him. His mother had insisted that no, she would not.

"You said she'd do anything for you." Rael had been confused.

"She would…" His mother had wrung her hands together, her nervous habit when she was anxious, "For me. Not the galaxy, Rael."

"They're the same thing." Rael had insisted. If he'd learned anything from his people, it was their sense of honor and self-sacrifice. Helping the Fleet and the Home-world helped all who dwelled on them. "Saving the galaxy saves you, too."

"She doesn't see it that way, son," Tali sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a light squeeze. His mother was touchy. His father said it came from living so long without being able to touch. "Not anymore. Not after-… not anymore."

"But she is alive?" He'd pressed. "And on Intai'sei?"

Tali smiled, and looked distance for several seconds before she laughed. "As if Shepard could die."

So here he was, his aircar on autopilot, tugging at his sticky armor, waiting to reach a manor nestled in the middle of a desert on a planet with less than three hundred thousand people. Trying to find a legend, and convince it to come out of hiding.

Rael couldn't understand how someone could resign their position and abandon their people, but history told him it was common with humans. Jon Grissom had done it, and now Shepard was doing it. She'd taken on a new name, a new life, a new planet, but Rael prayed to the ancestors she was still the same person, willing to take on the impossible.

Ideally, he would have brought his mother along, a member of Shepard's old squad to help persuade her. But she was a member of the Conclave now, and she had more important things to do than help him on his missions, especially ones she didn't believe in.

"I haven't exactly brought it before the Council yet…" Rael had explained when he'd been talking to his parents.

"Good," Tali snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "Those idiots won't have anything to do with a rogue Spectre they've declared dead twice, no matter how many times she's saved them."

Rael tried not to cringe. His mother was a passionate person. He'd heard her speak the same way about it the Conclave now and again, and for the most part tried to ignore it. It was difficult, considering he believed in the Conclave and the Council. Tali noticed and sighed. Living so long among humans had made his mother alarmingly perceptive. "I'll tell you what they told Shepard. If this is what you think you need to do, then do it. You're a Spectre now," She smiled with pride, like she always did when she said it, hypocritically to her thoughts on the Council, and pinched his cheek like she did when he was a boy, "You don't have to ask your mother for permission."

The aircar slowed to a stop as it reached the lone house in the desert. One of the new model X75 Makos was parked outside. A glass window made the walls of the second story. The sunlight hit it and reflected out blindingly at anyone trying to approach, which Rael guessed was Shepard's intention.

Seconds after he'd climbed out of his car, savage barks and howls filled the air. Varren. She kept pet varren? Rael almost flung himself back into his car, when he realized they were chained and pinned in just out of reach of the door, but close enough to be intimidating.

There was no hiding his presence now. Rael took a deep breath, air sterile and filtered through his envirosuit. He could only hope she was the same person, or would listen to reason. If not… he'd have to find someone who would make her.

AN: An idea I've had for a while. A Garrus/Shepard romance, taking place twenty-some-odd years in the future, when the Reaper Wars are over, and the galaxy is under a new threat. Read and review, continued if someone is interested :3