AN: Miss me? I know I've missed you guys, so I'm just going to leave this here.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and Bioware owns everything. Including all my feels.
**The Shepard - Politics**
"Shepard? Heh. I liked her." Urdnot Wrex, interview for GNN - 2188
Shepard could feel the change in the ship. The air of anticipation and nervousness was palpable - the whole crew was radiating it. Especially the pilot. She had snapped at everyone and even Felix was giving her a wide berth.
They were picking up a guest - the Primarch - and then heading off to a summit. Kyrik had spoken about it with detachment, like he knew the whole thing was doomed to failure. From all that she read it very well could be, but Vakarian was putting his faith into it - and that meant something.
Among her reading she had pulled the turian commander's files. They were impressive: taking out an elite terrorist group, saving the Citadel from the Reaper's front line, taking out the Collector base. He had good instincts so she would follow his lead in this; besides, politics were never her forte.
It feel strange giving the reigns to someone else. For so long she had been given freedom to do what she wanted, a right she had earned after many hard won battles. They had given her the best frigate in the fleet with the condition that she use it to pierce a hole in the defense of the Reapers, and that's what she had done. This ship had similar capabilities. It wasn't the Normandy, but it was fast and had a significant amount of firepower and shielding.
The Intrepid, unlike the Normandy, was weapon that was being used for political plays. Idiots, she thought. There was more at stake here than who could get the most out this war. These bureaucrats failed to understand how different this situation was: this wasn't a war, it was surviving, holding on by the skin of your teeth and hoping that you'll live to see tomorrow. The bickering was hampering more than helping, and the soldiers fighting on the front lines were the only ones who understood the gravity of the situation.
Humanity hadn't been without its issues, groups within the crippled civilian government and even with the Alliance military thought there were other ways to deal with the Reapers. They used secret agents to drive wedges between friends and families, to sabotage projects and destroy communications.
Cerberus had been led by the Illusive Man, an indoctrinated individual that believed the Reapers could be controlled. Not many people knew about the connection between him and the Fall of Eden Prime, and most never would. Humanity needed to stay together, to trust each other, and public knowledge of indoctrination would cause widespread panic.
No, humanity had been far from perfect, but they had held their own for over a century and this cycle was in disarray after only a few months.
This summit had to work. Humanity had put it's dying hope into the Crucible and look where it had gotten them. Speaking of which...Shepard thought turning on her terminal and opening up the files from PX-139. She had promised Garrus she would see look to see if Anderson had left her any information on the Catalyst before the Primarch came aboard. He wanted to present the man with something if this all went to shit.
EDI announced the arrival of the Primarch, and the whole room came to attention. Shepard could hear the nervous trills of the turians and see the fluttering of their more mobile facial features. From what she had learnt, the Primarch was the head of turian government.
She stood respectively by the pilot, as he entered the bridge, followed closely by a small diplomatic party and Vakarian. She expected the Primarch to pass them by with all pomp, but he stopped dead at the sight of her, his face impassive, but she didn't miss the flick of him mandibles and the way his eyes tightened as they glanced over her.
"You have being Shepard." His voice as emotionless as he tried to to appear.
To be polite and respectful she should salute, but his poorly hidden disgust kept her from doing just that.
"I am." Shepard kept her voice just as detached, but where he failed, she succeeded; completely control of her body and her face.
Primarch Fedorian's mandibles flared gently at the blatant disrespect, and she smirked softly. A part of her dared him to make her salute - to demand respect - but he didn't, dismissing her as his gaze darted over to the turian next to her.
His eyes traced her every move as Torcia tensed. Their markings were different, but so much else was the same: color of the plates and eyes, the shape of the mandibles and even the very air by which they carried themselves.
Well, Shepard thought, that explains her mood.
Having family with this distinction always caused pressure: pressure to be great, to be perfect and to never, ever fail. It was the most challenging type of pressure - Shepard knew that from experience.
Fedorian growled something low and deep causing Garrus to look at him and Tocia to visibly flinched. It was beyond Shepard, but she could still hear the authoritative sting in his words, "We'll talk later."
It was the first time Shepard had seen the proud pilot do anything but stand tall.
Nihlus sighed, rolling his neck as the elevator slowly descended. The last few hours had been hellish. Dealing with diplomats, diplomat's assistants and the assistants of the assistants, was far beyond his job description. It didn't help that Garrus had given most of the grunt work to him, not that he envied the commander's job of dealing with the Primarch himself.
Fedorian wasn't particularly loved, but he was respected. He was a turian who got results through devious means and backroom deals. Most of it was speculation, but rumors spread quickly in the higher parts of society and that of course trickled down to the lowest rungs. Information was important and Nihlus always had his ear to the ground. Some of the things he's heard in his years in the Terminus System haven't bolstered the reputation of the Primarch, but it was hard to argue with the outcomes of his dealings.
The Primarch's very presence alone had the whole ship buzzing, some trying to catch a glimpse of the turian, some trying to get out of his way. Nihlus had been standing on the bridge with Felix when the Primarch boarded and he had seen the way the other turian's jaw all but dropped at the sight of the man. It was clear that Felix hadn't known about Torcia's relation to the Primarch, probably no one outside of himself and Garrus had known, but the family resemblance had been impossible to miss.
Nihlus shook his head. Poor Felix. He was a good kid, but had horrible choices in women.
The elevator stopped and Nihlus exited, ready for a chance to unwind but paused at the empty gym. For the last three nights he had come in to find the human using his mat. No one else on the ship liked being in here this late into the night cycle and before Shepard's appearance, he preferred it that way. He had, however, taken to watching the woman using the mats and punching bags. He was learning a lot, not that he would admit it to anyone, and the late night spars were helping him sleep.
The quiet was a change.
It seemed like forever since he had been alone with his thoughts. Nihlus deposited his shirt at the edge of the mat, stretching his legs then back and taking up position at the punching bag. His movements were fluid, his punches strong, but his mind was elsewhere - tied up in the potential impact of the summit, the Dalatrass - who they were meeting the day after tomorrow - how he was going to deal with more politicians.
He had come here to unwind, not keep worrying about things. Before he could even think about it, Nihlus went right back into the elevator and headed to the engineering deck, leaving his shirt behind.
The hum of the engines reverberated through the walls of the small room that Shepard called home. It wasn't loud, the sound was more of a vibration that she could feel through the soles of her feet as she walked around the room. It was something she had noticed as she paced the room at times after her nightmares. EDI had been kind enough to stop suggesting ways to get her to sleep and left her to her thoughts.
Idle thoughts lead to idle hands. It was something her mother used to say before she shoved some book, gun, or tool into her hand. It was why she asked for the weapon's bench that they had installed in her small quarter.
Shepard sat cross legged at the bench, taking apart and reassembling her newest armaments. Especially with all the specific upgrades she had asked for, it was wise to know her guns inside and out, from balance to kickback.
She was messing with the sights on the assault rifle when her door hissed open. Setting the gun down lightly on the table, Shepard looked at her visitor with open curiosity - the only person who came looking for her was Dr. T'soni, and EDI knew to warn her if the good doctor was on her way.
Nihlus leaned against the door frame, glancing around the room for a moment before landing on her, "You were absent from the gym."
Shepard frowned slightly, "I thought you might be busy with the Primarch. I didn't think I would be missed."
Nihlus straightened at the statement, "I would not utilize the idiom 'craved'."
Shepard blinked and sighed. I think I need to spend some more time talking with EDI.
"Yeah, probably wouldn't use that word either." She stood up and straightened the over sized shirt on her shoulders. She had a bag of appropriately sized clothes in the corner, but she still liked this one. It was warm and hung off her shoulders just so, like the shirt she had stolen from Kaidan and had never returned.
She noticed him eying the clothing, "Just because you seemed to have lost your shirt doesn't mean you get this one back."
Nihlus blinked and then laughed. It was the first time she had heard it - a deep chuckle, rumbling up from his chest, "You do have realized that is my vestige."
"I know." She said walking past him, not hiding the smirk on her face. It was a challenge and a thank you. Guns could only occupy her so much. The only time her mind was truly clear was in the middle of a fight.
Nihlus fell in step quickly, "Will you ever return it to myself?"
"Sure." She said, smirk turning arrogant and just slightly playful, "If you can take it back."
Nihlus' mandibles dipped and opened wide. It was the same look that Felix got whenever he came up to the cockpit to talk with Torcia. A turian smile
"Challenge accepted."
CE 2186 - Location Unknown
In the darkness, the there were still shadows just at the edge of his vision. Thick and black like oil, they congregated just out of sight but he knew they were there. They were always there.
Opening his eyes, Saren stared past the holographs on his screen.
Control. Just a bit more and he would have control of this war - of this universe. While the rest of the galaxy was consumed with survival he knew better, he had seen beyond the veil of the Reapers. Indoctrination had washed over him like acid, burning away all thought and reason. The Reapers commanded and he obeyed. Their will had been his will, their dreams were his dreams and he saw more than they wished.
In the haze of the pain he had seen the Crucible, all but complete and an alien as hard as steel.
The comm link pinged, alerting him to an incoming call.
"Report."
"Sir," It was Kuril, "I found her."
"Where is she?"
"On the Intrepid."
Saren's eyes narrowed. "Vakarian." It came out more of a hiss than a word. Even when working together, their relationship had been hostile at best. True, the turian had freed him from the Reaper's control, but destruction of the Collector's base had put his plans back years.
"Your orders?" Kuril's voice cracked over the comm.
"Leave her," For now. "Vakarian will come to us."
"But-"
Saren cut him off, "You have other issues to deal with."
A pause, "Of course sir."
Saren closed the comm link and stared at the plans for the Crucible in front of him. It was only a fragment of the whole, but it didn't matter. The Council and the Hierarchy would build it for him and when they were finished, he would take it from them.
And he would take the alien from Vakarian.
In the end he would have control - of the Council, of the Hierarchy, and of the Reapers.
This time they will be the ones kneeling.
CE 2186 - The Intrepid
Dalatrass Linron stared hard at the Primarch as he talked, a part of her hoping, no matter how improbable, that the man would spontaneously combust. The turian was manipulative, cunning, and desperate - a dangerous combination. She must be desperate too, to agree to meet with a krogan ambassador.
It was a meeting that she knew would result in nothing, but it was the only option. There was only one thing she could think of that the krogans wanted and she would never give it to them. Besides, it would take too long.
No, she wasn't here to talk to the krogans, she was here because of the Primarch. The turians had come through for the Council before, after grave mistakes by her ancestors and, as much as it made her stomach turn, she would at least hear their plea.
Unlike the Council, she wasn't blind - just cautious. The reports from the STG were fairly clear. Kirrahe had sent some incriminating evidence from Virmire a while back. There have been more and more files of Reaper threats that had landed on her desk. Mordin Solus gave her an entire speech about the Collectors and she was inclined to listen to him. He was one of the greatest salarian minds alive today, even if he was on the crazy side.
She had known what was coming, even if everyone else didn't and that was the only reason she is here. The krogans could be helpful, if they were controlled, but history had shown that they could not be trusted. If this Krogan was reasonable than perhaps they could come to an agreement on the matter. Fedorian was right, the galaxy had to work together if they wanted to survive.
So she would wait and listen as the Primarch prattled on. He wouldn't really say anything of import until the krogans arrived anyway.
Wrex boarded the ship with flourish and command. He had been built for leadership and finally had it. The information on his omnitool burned a hole through his arm and it brought a smirk to his face. Now was the time for the krogans to redeem themselves. He should have known it would be at the hands of Garrus, especially after Virmire.
That turian deserved his respect. He had earned it and proven himself a friend and brother to Wrex time and time again. If other turian's had half the quad that Garrus did then perhaps this would have been settled long ago.
Wrex wasn't stupid. He knew that much of the blame was placed squarely on the shoulders of idiots like his brood brother Wreav. That krogan would have the his people on a warpath before the Reaper's corpses were cold. It's a good thing that Wrex didn't give a damn about him - if he ever made a move against Wrex then he wouldn't be around for anyone to care about.
The small unit that followed Wrex through the docking bay stayed two paces behind him, it was sign of respect and he wanted the other races to know that he had the power to demand it out of others of his kind. The two behind him weren't just grunts, they were the heads of other clans; not the two strongest, but two that pledged their loyalty to clan Urdnot.
There was an equally small welcoming party of turians. Three to be exact, two of which were well armed. Wrex didn't recognize any of them. One stepped forward.
"Urdnot Wrex?" He asked.
"Who the hell are you?" Wrex said, crossing his arms and staring down the officer. He was small, even for a turian, standing a good foot and a half below the krogan, including their humps; small enough that he had to look up slightly at Wrex. Wrex smirked cruelly down at him, seeing the hesitation in his step.
The turian however didn't flinch and spoke with bravado, and for that Wrex had to appreciate him a bit. Being scared was one thing, but refusing to back down was another, "I am Lieutenant Victus. Commander Vakarian and Primarch Fidorian are talking with Dalatrass Linron in the conference room," He gestured behind him towards the elevator, "I will escort you, but your..." And he stumbled over the term, "Krantt will have to stay here."
Wrex snorted, "They are not my krantt. You have to be of a higher quality for that honor," He heard the soft growls behind him, but the krogan paid them no mind. If they wanted to start something then so be it. Urdnot was the strongest clan on Tuchanka and if they wanted to challenge the claim, they were welcomed to try. "I don't care what you do with them, just make sure they don't tear apart your guards. Neither of them are particularly happy to be on a turian ship."
Victus straightened immediately and glared at the sneering krogan. This one had a quad - small, but still a quad. He should have known that Vakarian would only surround himself with the best, "I'll see to it personally."
"Heh. See that you do kid." Wrex said.
"Follow me."
Victus turned on his heel sharply, a perfect 180, reminiscent of strict turian discipline. He was a military brat if Wrex had ever seen one. If this had been the old Intrepid, Wrex would have told the kid to pound a varren, but the new ship wasn't the same. The layout was similar, but different enough that he needed some direction, so he followed.
As they walked towards the elevator Wrex paused, feeling someone's eyes on him. On the overlook one floor above them he spotted someone - not asari, but not anything else he had ever seen. She looked at him, down at him, and there was something about her that made him look again.
"Huh." He said. Victus stopped and looked up as well.
"That's Shepard." The turian said, nodding to the figure, "A human."
That caught Wrex off guard. "I thought they were all dead." He said.
"We thought the Rachni were all dead too but you and the Commander found one on Noveria. We discovered her in a stasis pod on Oma Ker."
Wrex shook his head and started walking again. "We're fighting a war against an ancient enemy with ancient allies now? Makes me feel young." He looked back at Victus who was still staring up at the human with an odd expression on his face. Turians, Wrex thought. "Come on kid. Don't want to keep the Dalatrass and Primarch waiting. They've got less patience than a varren in heat."
The turian's mouth fell open and Wrex smirked, "That's probably the nicest thing I'll say about those two."
The blood drained a bit more from the skin beneath his plates, making his face as pale as his markings. It made Wrex laugh darkly.
At least I'll have some fun here.
Garrus found it hard to listen to the updates on Palaven. The Primarch went through them with a robotic efficiency, outlining the destruction of Cipritine, the devastation of the space fleet and the complete annihilation of the Menae outpost.
Three million turians were lost on the first day. Five million the second.
The figure was hard to swallow.
While the death toll was staggering, the supplies that were to be debated and hopefully agreed upon were just as unbelievable. With every loss that the Primarch outlined, the repairs that he recommended were mind blowing. Garrus knew that the Primarch was starting out high so that he could give something away during the talks, but he was surprised that the Dalatrass hadn't outright laughed at the other turian yet.
And through all of that, the Primarch hadn't once mentioned reinforcements. That meant he was betting on krogan support.
And if Garrus had noticed that, the Dalatrass had as well.
He couldn't wait for Wrex to show up.
"The krogan have no right to make demands!"
Lieutenant Victus stood guard silently by the door listening to them debate the terms of the treaty. The krogan hadn't waited long, opening with the demand they all knew was coming: curing the genophage, and it was clear that he wasn't going to back down.
Their shouting escalated and Wrex was true to his word - some of his more choice phrases made the turian blush. He was glad that he was facing away from the diplomats, it wouldn't have been good if they saw him with his mouth hanging open as it was.
How his commander kept things calm was beyond him, but that has always been one of his specialities. Especially when it came to the impossible. A few years ago the Dalatrass wouldn't have even met with the krogans, but the Reapers changed everything: old alliances, new wars, and death counts that couldn't really be counted.
They had even changed him.
He had been on Fehl Prime when the Collectors came for the colony. He saw what the slaves of the Reapers could do and when Commander Vakarian told him what the Reapers were doing with the captured colonists, Tarquin felt like he would be sick.
It was made all the worse because he had chosen to sacrifice the colony in hopes that the intel would save more lives. He thought it had been a calculated loss, but it hadn't. Vakarian destroyed the Collector base before the Hierarchy could mobilize and all those turians that he had abandoned had been liquified for nothing.
"Victus!"
The turian started from his thoughts, "Yes sir?"
"See to it that the krogans have accommodations. We're going to Sur'kesh." Vakarian strode past him on his way to the War Room with Wrex and the Primarch on his heels.
Wrex sent him another smile as he walked by and the turian's stomach dropped. Sur'kesh was five days from here. Five days. Keeping a group of krogans under control for a few hours was much easier than keeping them contained for a few days. And he had said he would "see to it personally".
"Me and my big mouth," Tarquin grumbled as he made his way back to the Cargo Bay.
Five days was a long time. Longer when there were two groups of militaristic forces with a history of brutal warfare. Especially when one group was instinctually confrontational and territorial.
Battle scars and hormones never mixed well together.
It would have been a miracle if nothing happen on the journey. To make it three days before a confrontation was impressive. Lieutenant Victus should have been applauded for his efforts, even if in the end they were futile.
As with any powder keg, it only took a spark- a wrong word, a misinterpreted look – and everything went to shit.
"Out of my way turian." Suvnek Grall ground out. He was a krogan on a warpath, heading straight from the cargo bay to the mess hall. The three krogans, minus Wrex, spent their time in the lower decks, as far away from the turians as possible and surfacing only to scavenge food from the levo rations they picked up from a re-fueling station on their way to Sur'kesh.
Grall was smaller than Wrex by a good six inches and 50 pounds with a small hump and barely fused cranial plates. Younger in age and experience, he had still raised to the rank of clan leader after his father had died. His battle prowess could not be denied and he wore his scars proudly, as all krogan did.
A tussle had broken out in the cargo bay earlier that day and it had his blood singing. It only enhanced the edge as the turians eyed him wearily and with a bit of disgust.
"I have a name." The turian in question replied. Torcia stared at the krogan, her eyes sharply outlined by black of her markings making them that much more pointed as they glared him down.
She had just been waiting for the elevator with a group of technicians trying to return to the CIC. The doors had opened and the krogan had all but run them down. The others stepped to the side with annoyed clicks and whistles, but pride wouldn't let her step down – especially with her uncle on the ship.
"Your name is not worth knowing."
"You know nothing about me." She hissed, stepping into his space. She was angry – with her uncle, herself, the damn krogans who thought they owned the ship. She didn't care about Lt. Victus' orders. He had insulted her and she wouldn't let it pass.
"You are turian. That is all I need to know." He snarlled.
"I have seen more battles in the last four years than you have in the last four hundred. If anyone doesn't need a name, it's you."
The krogan growled and stepped forward into her space. She could hear the woven armor of his gauntlets creak as hands clenched into fists at his side.
"You know nothing."
"You are a krogan. That's all I need to know." She echoed his words, knowing the insult she had just thrown at him. Her sharp tongue often got her in trouble just as often as her hubris did.
Torcia didn't have time to react as the meaty fist came up and connected with her face. She wasn't a fighter. Her meager combat training had totaled in the basic use of a pistol and activation of her omni-tool shields. It was enough to hopefully keep her alive until help arrived. Neither would aid her in close quarters with a fully armored krogan.
She stumbled backwards and Grall surged forward yelling as he raised his fist for the next punch. It didn't connect with her. The fist was diverted and he was spun around. He blinked and stared back at the doors of the elevator.
"Take the elevator back beneath to the hold and freeze your cranium."
The words were broken, but the command was evident, he turned his head to the side looking back over his shoulder. There was the human – the one he had seen lurking around the windows overlooking the cargo hold. Behind her was the turian, clutching her eye as blue blood oozed from a break in the plating. Another – male – was tending to her.
Grall shifted his gaze to the human, "You are not my clan leader, my battlemaster or my milk mother. Do not order me."
"Then I shall proceed to askance. Kindly depart." She said, crossing her arms looking all too calm and collected for him, "Depart with your dignity full. Your accolade is defended and your muscle proven."
Grall growled and stepped towards her, but the click of a safety caught his attention. Standing by the elevator door and holding it open was the Nihlus – the Spectre. Grall had heard of him, if being a Spectre wasn't bad enough. His hand played over the pistol strapped to his leg, and Grall knew he would use it.
"I'd listen to her. She only asks nicely once."
He wasn't stupid. He was outnumbered, and outgunned. Grall obliged, determined to carry his gun with him from now on, no matter what Wrex had ordered.
"Stay out of my way next time turian," the krogan spat. "I only ask nicely once too."
Shepard watched as the lumbering krogan stomped back into the elevator and left. The tension in the room had been palpable when she had emerged from T'soni's office. Turians pressed against the wall and then Lt. Neros had gone flying. Her first instinct had been to stop it and he thought that went along with it, as wrong as she knew it was, had been 'not on my ship.'
This wasn't her ship. This wasn't her crew. This wasn't her command.
She glanced over at Nihlus, "Thank you."
He nodded, "Any interval."
He glanced over her shoulder at the pilot, who with the help of Specialist Kato has finally standing up.
"You are luckily." He said, "If that had been a biotic, he would have fractured your nape."
She heard the annoyed trill and Nihlus sighed, "I'm going to go locate Garrus. He shall desire to know that there perchance will be a quarrel in the Cargo Bay."
Shepard nodded and then he too left. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall had begun again - louder than usual with harsh whispers and some cheers. Torcia sat in a chair, brushing off the help of Kato who ran off to get medical supplies from the Medbay. A few turians patted her on the shoulder as they walked by and some gave her a wide berth.
"You could have gotten killed." Shepard said, sitting across from the pilot. Torcia sat up straight, trying to put on her usual cold composure, but wincing as her faceplates shifted and the blood started oozing again.
"I had the situation beneath my mastery."
Shepard crossed her arms as she stared the turian down, "Of course you did. You always have everything under control, don't you."
Torcia was silent. Shepard sighed, "Asking for help isn't a weakness you know."
The pilot's mandibles flattened against her face as she turned and stared off into space, "Then you do not comprehend my familial unit." There was a distant sorrow in her tone, a regret that Shepard recognized. She had put the world on her shoulders once – still did.
"Moreover," The turian continued, her tone much more forceful, "I never demanded for your aid."
"I'm sorry I damaged your pride by saving your ass," Shepard ground out, annoyed with the woman's damned hubris, "Next time I'll leave you to your beating."
"You could no do that!" Came a deep voice, somewhat shocked. The two woman turn and saw Kato, his arms full of bandages, disinfectants and numbing creams. There were so many that he struggled to keep the awkward bundle secure. It was a ridiculous sight, but so very him.
He sat down and stared at Shepard with a wide-eyed, innocent and hopeful look. She had seen that look before, "You are THE Shepard. The legendary swashbuckler who came to the assist of the lost and the ill-fated."
Another fan. Damn hero-worship.
"You've been talking to T'soni haven't you." She ground out.
Kato fumbled with opening an antiseptic wipe, "When she mentioned there was literature concerning your exploits, I admit, I was curiosity. I perused the extranet for apropos articles." He dabbed the medicated fabric against Torcia's forehead and she hissed, "Sorry." The other turian batted his hand away, but he just grabbed her wrist and held her there. They glared at each other for a second and then Torcia submitted, crossing her arms and staring down at the table.
He grabbed her chin lightly and turned her head so he could get a better angle to clean the wound. Shepard was surprised that the pilot had given in. She had been under the impression that she found the Specialist's attention annoying.
It seemed private, so Shepard stood to leave, but Torcia gave her a look that begged her to stay. Interesting.
"I am curiosity," Kato continued, blind to the exchange between the two women, "Did you in reality conquer a Reaper with nothing save a knife?"
Shepard blinked, her eyebrows raising in surprise. She hadn't heard that one yet. It also didn't help that the translation software was far from complete.
She settled back into her chair, "I'm going to have to say no, but I did drive a Mako into one filled with a few hundred pounds of explosives."
Both turned to look at her, this time they weren't the only ones with intrigued looks. She noticed that the noise of the mess hall had dimmed while the crowd had not. Glancing around Shepard saw she had caught the attention of a good portion of the room – some openly staring and others trying to look out of the corner of their eye.
Well a story was good for morale. She didn't like talking about her exploits, since more often than not they ended with failure, but she had learnt that talking about the victories – with a dash of spice and flare – did wonders for a crew. In a war that seemed unending and unwinnable, every victory, even the small ones, mattered.
"Lieutenant Vega and I were looking into a strange distress beacon..."
Nihlus walked into the war room and shook his head. Wrex and the Primarch were having what many might call an argument, but this was Wrex and he was being polite. Nihlus had seen the krogan when he wasn't. It usually ended up with someone dead. Wrex had a lot of control for krogan, it was probably how he had become one of the most powerful clan leaders on Tuchanka.
"You are already planning how you are going to butcher the krogan troops before we've given you our full support. Typical." Wrex said, his voice tight.
Fedorian glared, "You promised us troops-"
"When we have a cure for the genophage," Wrex cut in, glaring right back, "That is what you should be focused on. The salarians aren't going to just roll over and give the females to us."
"We have 2 more days of travel before we get there, it should be spent productively," Fedorian growled, Nihlus could see the tightness in his mandibles as he walked down the stairs. Garrus shot him a tired, begging look but Nihlus just shook his head. If Vakarian was tired now, he wasn't going to appreciate the news that Nihlus was baring.
"You're right," Wrex said, crossing his arms, "More productive talk would be HOW we are going to synthesize a cure once we have the females. Troop movements, deployment options and supply chains can be dealt with later, once you've held up your end of the bargain."
"Krogans are so short sighted," Fedorian grumbled, "We don't even know if the cure will even be feasible in-"
Wrex cut in again, all diplomacy gone from his voice, "You better hope it is or else-"
Garrus stepped between the two men, "Alright, that's enough. Primarch, I will be happy to go over the supply chains with you, unless," He glanced over at Nihlus, "There is something else that I am needed for."
Nihlus sighed, "I just came from the mess hall. There was a confrontation between one of the crew and the krogans," He held up his hand before anyone could say anything, "It has been dealt with, by Shepard actually."
"Shepard?" Garrus asked, surprised.
"Hmm," Nihlus nodded, "She's better with people than I thought. I don't think there will be anymore problems."
"I disagree Nihlus," EDI cut in. All heads swiveled upwards as if they could look at EDI's disembodied voice directly, "The krogan in question departed the mess hall and returned to the flight deck. However tensions has risen between the krogans in the cargo bay and Lieutenant Victus is so far unsuccessful in calming them."
"Great," Garrus rumbled and looked over at the Primarch, "Sir, I must see to this."
He waved him off and Garrus shot Wrex and Nihlus a look, "and the two fell in line behind the commander.
"I don't think I've ever seen you so polite in my life," Nihlus commented to Garrus as the doors opened in front of them. Wrex smirked, letting out a small laugh.
"You should have seen him earlier. Like a varren being lead by a piece of pyjak meat. Did you lose your backbone in jail Vakarian?"
Garrus didn't turn to look back at the Krogan, but they could feel the annoyance coming off him in waves, "Did you lose yours while sitting on your ass?"
"Heh," Wrex chuckled darkly, "Glad to see the Primarch hasn't completely broken you. All of your ass kissing made me want to punch something."
"Me too."
"Commander," EDI said, as the elevator doors opened, "The violence has escalated. Lt. Victus will require medical aid."
"Noted." Nihlus said sardonically as the scene unfolded in front of them. Victus was on the floor, clutching his arm that bent at an awkward angle. It was likely broken and the shoulder joint didn't look to be in good shape either.
The two krogans that Wrex had brought with him were in a fist fight with their team of turian guards. So far, the krogans looked to be winning.
Garrus, for the third time today lamented the situation he had landed himself in.
Save the galaxy a few times and you get stuck babysitting politicians. He thought. Is it bad that I miss the geth right now? At least with them you knew where you stood.
Dealing with the Primarch and his blatant dislike of other races – not to their face, at least most of the time – bleed through everything and dealing with him had pushed Garrus to the edge in the last few days. He was a soldier, not a politician, but here he was forced to broker peace agreements between age old enemies. He was lucky Wrex was representing the krogans; anyone else and he might have shot him.
Wrex didn't particularly need these other two to secure a deal, did he?
Too bad he couldn't deal with the Primarch that way. No, dealing with the Primarch meant meetings upon meetings, holding your tongue – yes, it was possible for him to do that – and dressing at all times in his dress uniform. It wasn't made for combat, with its stiff fabric and aesthetically pleasing cuts.
He felt exposed but was too angry to care. He was angry with the Primarch, with the Dalatrass, with the war, and with his inability to do anything. He couldn't save his home, his parents and his sister were still M.I.A., and he had heard a few of his friends had already perished.
This however, was something he could solve. Garrus shrugged out of his dress jacket, all but tearing the buttons off. He couldn't stop his mandibles from twitching in irritation as he stalked forward, flanked by Wrex and Nihlus, "You just had to bring along a clutch of irritable children with you, didn't you?"
Wrex chuckled next to him, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, "It was a show of power, something you'll have to prove now."
"I haven't been sitting on my throne for the last six months," Garrus shot back, a playful note seeping into the irritated tone, "At least this will give me a chance to see if you have gotten soft."
"No," Wrex said, "You've been sitting in jail, a very well fed jail." He glanced down at Garrus' waist, "Of all the turians I had to befriend, I pick the one who can't stop eating."
Garrus opened his mouth to retort but stopped when one the turians went flying towards them. Nihlus awkwardly caught the private. The poor girl was unconscious.
"EDI," Nihlus said, alert the med bay that they are going to have incoming. No fatalities. Also, get them to send down a team to deal with the krogans."
"The Med Bay is prepared, however, my scans shows that the krogans are uninjured."
"For now." Nihlus growled.
He pulled his pistol from the holster at the base of his back. Standing, he shot the krogan closest to him. The krogan, who had been fighting with two turians, turned to look at him.
"Come and dance." Nihlus said, activating his shield. The krogan, well into his blood-rage at the moment, obliged. He spared a glance at Garrus, but saw Wrex with him. Good, without his armor, Garrus would have a hard time with a hormone-fueled krogan - even on his best days.
Movement out of the corner of his eye, Nihlus saw his opponent charge. "Oh shit!" He hissed, throwing up his shield just a second before the charging krogan connected with him. The breath flew from him in a whoosh, and Nihlus cursed.
Idiot. Good thing Shepard isn't watching this. I would never live it down.
Garrus and Wrex moved past him to engage the other krogan. Wrex took point, charging the loner and putting a shoulder into the smaller krogan. Wrex was far larger and clearly stronger as well.
The smaller krogan went flying and Wrex stopped on a dime, standing between the groaning krogan and the injured turians. Garrus snapped out orders, and his soldiers left, grabbing their injured and retreating upstairs.
Grall stumbled backwards, his grip on the turian easing and eventually releasing as Wrex slammed him backwards. He had come down earlier, angry and hungry. His pride hurt and his annoyance coming off of his like waves, it was infectious. The turian guards had tried to calm him down, but it only served to enrage him more. Once the first punch had been thrown, Nakmour Kung, head of clan Nakmour, joined in the fight gladly.
Grall had sent their guard, Lieutenant Victus, flying and he had landed with a satisfying crunch. It was like a damn had been released and the others began to trade blows. Kung and Grall were the leaders of clans, and had deserved more than being locked in the cargo bay like animals. Their anger had been building, looking for an outlet and being curved only by Wrex's threats.
They had only needed an excuse to unleash their rage and this had been it.
A part of him had known that Wrex would come to deal with them. He wouldn't let the smaller clans have any more power than he allowed, keeping them all at peace and all equal – equally submissive to the Urdnot clan.
But the others had surprised him, charging recklessly in the fight and then hitting him hard – harder than he thought a turian could manage. It brought white light to his eyes. Shaking his head, Grall watched as the larger krogan stood over him, cracking his knuckles in threat.
Grall's rage boiled just underneath the surface and he surged towards the krogan, but Wrex had been ready for him and the larger krogan gave into his own anger, unleashing a torrent of fists and pain on the krogan.
Garrus could have stopped him, and he probably should have, but these were Wrex's people and his to deal with. The sharp snap as armor his platting, faded into wet slaps as blood seeped from the now unrecognizable face. Wrex kept hitting and Garrus had to turn away for a moment.
He watched Nihlus deal with the other, putting more bullets into his legs until the krogan's healing factor finally gave way and he collapsed. A series of kicks to the face and mercifully the krogan finally passed out.
Wrex stepped up next to him and Garrus tried not to notice the bright orange splatters on the krogan's armor - or the blue and orange ones on his shirt.
"I assume you left him alive."
Wrex nodded. "He understands his place. This won't happen again."
Garrus walked away, stopping only to grab his coat. "See that it doesn't."
"The fleet couldn't get a clear shot on the Reaper with the refugee ships so close, and neither could I. The jamming signal was too strong, " Shepard said, sinking back into the chair. Everyone in the room leaned in closer, "So I took one look at Vega and kicked his big butt out of the Mako, hit the thrusters and launched the whole thing off the edge of the cliff. It hit the Reaper, the nukes exploded and it stumbled. It stunned the Reaper long enough for the refugee ships to clear the area and the fleet unleashed hell on it. The whole valley was obliterated."
Torcia blinked. She hadn't meant to stay for the whole story, but it had been...so engaging. Except for Sovereign, not one single Reaper had been felled, and Sovereign had required a salarian, asari and turian fleet just to accomplish that. She had a new respect for the humans.
"How did you make it?" Felix asked breathless. His whole attention was on Shepard. It was the perfect opportunity for her to sneak off, now that his clumsy first aid attempt had finished, but she was curious for the answer.
"Well," Shepard said, her tone implying that it really hadn't been all that impressive, "I abandoned ship before the Mako dove off the cliff and rejoined with Vega. We hardly dove over the edge of the ridge – fried shields, parts of our armor molten, but we made it. The idiot was orating about it for weeks."
"Wow," Felix breathed, finally sitting back in his chair, he gave a dazzling grin at her, "That's just...wow. I'm glad you're on our side!"
Shepard just nodded and stood, "We'll win this war. I give my oath."
Felix turned his attention back to Torcia, making her shift in her seat a bit, "I think we'll be fine as long as some people don't try to take on Krogans anymore."
Torcia opened her mouth to say something, mostly likely angry and short as usual, but the sight of the elevator opening and a crew of 6 turians, one unconscious took all the words from her. She recognized them, they were the team sent down to guard the krogans. A sick feeling swept over her - guilt, shame, disgust - somehow she knew she had been the cause of this.
Without a word she ran over and took Victus' other shoulder under hers and helped them towards the medbay.
The light hearted mood that Shepard's story had instilled on the Mess, was gone as everyone caught sight of the team.