Shepard
That night, sleep refused to come.
Shepard lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, the soft hum of the Citadel’s lights pressing in from outside. Her heart was beating faster than usual—not anxiety, she was sure of that. It wasn’t the mission, either. She’d had critical missions before. But something gnawed at her, just beneath the surface, refusing to let her settle.
Her mind ran through the events of the last few days on an endless loop—Eden Prime, the Council dismissing her, becoming a Spectre. But none of it explained why her pulse felt out of sync, like her body was waiting for something her brain hadn’t caught up to yet.
Frustrated, she threw the covers off and sat on the side of the bed. Fine. If her mind wouldn’t settle, maybe her body could take the lead.
She pulled on a pair of black leggings and a tank top, grabbing her well-worn N7 hoodie from the chair by the door. The cool fabric was familiar against her skin, grounding her as she slipped out into the quiet corridors of the Citadel.
The Wards at night were a different world. The crowds had thinned, leaving only the occasional late-night wanderer or security patrol. Daytime storefronts had gone dark, their lights replaced by the moody glow of bars and clubs just coming to life. The neon signs cast shifting colors across the walkways, and the air carried the faint, sterile scent of recycled oxygen.
Shepard hit her stride quickly, her steps landing softly with a steady rhythm against the smooth walkways. She focused on the sound, letting it drown out the clutter in her head. But no matter how fast she ran, her thoughts kept circling back.
Music pulsed through her earpiece—heavy guitar riffs layered over electronic beats, all driving bass and soaring synth. Usually this kind of track cleared her head. Not that she’d ever give Sean the satisfaction of admitting it. Tonight it wasn’t working. No matter how fast she ran, her thoughts kept circling back.
Saren’s still out there. But that wasn’t it. She’d hunted dangerous targets before; it never left her this restless.
Becoming a Spectre. That was a shift, sure. But she’d been ready for the responsibility. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen this coming—Nihlus had told her. Nihlus.
Her chest tightened, but even that didn’t feel like the whole picture.
She picked up the pace, weaving past a couple of late-night vendors closing up shop. Some people glanced her way, their eyes lingering. Recognition, maybe. The first human Spectre. But Shepard barely registered them. Her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Garrus.
The thought came unbidden, but once it surfaced, it refused to leave. She slowed, her breath coming in sharp bursts now, but it wasn’t from the run.
Garrus.
One of the few people she’d met who didn’t look at her like a hero or a symbol. He was just… real. A good man, sharp in ways that mattered, with a dry sense of humor that slipped in when she least expected it. But it was more than that.
They’d only known each other a few days, but in that time, they’d fallen into an easy rhythm. In battle, he knew what she needed before she even said it. They moved like two parts of the same machine—no second-guessing, no missteps. Just trust.
And when he said goodbye earlier, that flicker of disappointment in his voice had lingered longer than she expected.
That’s when it hit her.
It was Garrus.
The realization settled over her like a weighted blanket. She couldn’t leave him behind. He deserved the chance to go after Saren, just as much as she did. And more than that… she wanted him with her.
Not just because of his skills—though spirits knew those were wasted at C-Sec—but because she trusted him. Trusted him in a way she hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time.
Her feet had already started moving again, faster this time, but with purpose. She wasn’t running to clear her head anymore.
She was running to C-Sec.
C-Sec Academy was quiet at this hour, the hallways lit by dim lights. Shepard’s footsteps echoed against the polished floors as she made her way to the requisitions office, her heart still pounding—but now it was from anticipation.
She burst into the office, still catching her breath. The requisitions officer—a weary-looking turian—blinked at her, clearly not expecting a Spectre to show up like this, in workout gear, hair damp from sweat.
“Spectres get whatever resources we need, right?” Shepard asked, her voice sharp from the run.
The officer stared for a beat, trying to process the sudden appearance of Commander Shepard, looking very un-Spectre-like but radiating the same authority.
“Uh… generally, yes,” he stammered.
“Does that include personnel?” she asked, the words spilling out faster than she meant them.
The officer hesitated, then nodded slowly. “It can… depending on the request.”
Shepard leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Can Officer Garrus Vakarian be reassigned to the Normandy under my command?”
The turian blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… Yes, Commander. I can facilitate that. But if I may ask…” He trailed off, eyeing her with curiosity. “Why Vakarian?”
Shepard smirked, the tension in her chest easing as the decision solidified in her mind. “He’s good with tech. Even better with a sniper rifle. And he investigated Saren—I need him.”
But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t just about intel or skill. There was something more, something she couldn’t quite put into words. So she didn’t try.
“Very well, Commander,” the officer nodded, turning to his terminal. “I’m arranging the transfer as we speak.”
Shepard exhaled, feeling the weight in her chest finally start to lift.
“Have him report to the Normandy by 0900.”
“Of course, Commander. I’ll message him right away.”
Shepard nodded, her mind already settling into the new reality. Garrus would be on the Normandy. He would be with her on this mission.
And somehow, that thought finally let her breathe.
As Shepard stepped out of the C-Sec Academy, the night air of the Citadel hit her like a balm. The halls were still quiet, but the restless energy that had chased her through the night was gone.
Selvek had been right. It was rare to find someone who understood you in battle like that. And Garrus… he got her. Without words. Without hesitation.
She found herself smiling, shaking her head at how obvious it seemed now. She could only hope she hadn’t misread him—and that he actually wanted to come along.
Leaning over the railing, Shepard let her gaze drift over the sprawling expanse of the Citadel around her—the neon-lit levels stretching out in every direction, the Wards’ nightlife humming beneath the surface.
For the first time since Eden Prime, she felt ready.
And as the exhaustion finally crept in, Shepard knew one thing for certain:
She wasn’t leaving Garrus behind.
Garrus
Sleep refused to come, and Garrus had stopped trying to chase it.
Not that it was unusual. He’d had plenty of sleepless nights before—usually after running up against another wall of C-Sec red tape, or when a case went cold despite his best efforts. But this felt… different.
He’d helped prove Saren was a traitor, helped Shepard revoke his Spectre status. That should’ve been enough to ease his mind. But it wasn’t. Because Saren was still out there. And Garrus was still stuck here, in the Citadel, shackled by protocols and paperwork.
The frustration gnawed at him.
He’d tried to distract himself by diving into his other investigations, but his focus kept slipping. The data blurred together, meaningless compared to the real mission slipping through his fingers.
Eventually, he gave up. He found himself walking the Wards instead, his steps aimless, his thoughts anything but.
Shepard.
She wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d worked with plenty of humans at C-Sec, and most of them fit into one of two categories: either they were trying too hard to prove themselves, or they thought they were better than everyone else. But Shepard? She didn’t fit either mold.
She was different. Genuine. She didn’t demand respect—she earned it. And she didn’t act like she was superior, even though… well, Garrus suspected she was.
The way she’d defended him against her own crew had caught him off guard. She barely knew him, and yet she’d stood up for him without hesitation. That wasn’t something he was used to—not from his colleagues at C-Sec, not even from his own father.
And then there was Selvek. Meeting him had explained a lot—the turian discipline in the way Shepard moved, the sharp edge to her tactical thinking. But even that didn’t explain everything.
There was more to Shepard. And Garrus found himself wanting to figure out what that was.
His omni-tool beeped, cutting through his thoughts with a sharp, insistent chirp. He frowned, pulling it up. Who’s messaging me at this hour?
The message blinked on the screen, simple and direct.
Urgent: Reassignment
Officer Garrus Vakarian, you are being reassigned to the SSV Normandy by authority of Commander Shepard, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Your transfer is approved effective immediately. Per the commander’s request, report to the Normandy by 0900 tomorrow.
Garrus stared at the message, his mind scrambling to process it.
Reassigned?
His heart skipped a beat. It had to be a mistake. Or maybe he was imagining things. Shepard was a Spectre now—she could requisition resources, sure, but personnel?
Me?
Before he could talk himself out of it, Garrus turned on his heel and made a beeline for C-Sec Academy.
The Academy was quiet, the sterile halls dim under the late-night lights. But Garrus’ mind was anything but calm.
He stormed into the superior officer’s office, barely waiting for acknowledgment.
“I just received reassignment orders,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “What’s going on?”
The officer blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by Garrus’ abruptness. “You’d have to ask the requisitions office. Came from them.”
Garrus didn’t wait for anything else. He was already moving, his mind racing faster than his feet could carry him.
When he burst into the requisitions office, the turian behind the desk looked up, his brow plates lifting in mild annoyance.
“I’m being reassigned?” Garrus blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. “Was this a mistake?”
The officer quirked a brow, clearly unimpressed by Garrus’ urgency. “That’s correct, Vakarian. And no, it’s not a mistake. You’ve been reassigned.”
“But… why?”
The requisitions officer sighed, clearly not in the mood for questions. “Because Commander Shepard herself came into my office not long ago to requisition personnel for her mission. You, specifically.”
Garrus’ mandibles twitched in surprise.
“She seemed quite eager to have this done quickly,” the officer continued, glancing back at his terminal. “Even made me wake Executor Pallin to approve the transfer right away. So I’d suggest you get ready and report to her ship.”
Garrus nodded, his mind still spinning as he turned and left the office.
As Garrus stepped back into the quiet corridors of C-Sec, his thoughts were a tangled mess. Shepard had personally requested his transfer. She’d gone through all the channels—in the middle of the night, no less—to make sure it happened immediately.
He wasn’t sure what to think.
As he walked toward the elevators, something familiar caught his attention—a scent, faint but distinct.
Cinnamon?
The question hung in his mind, subtle but insistent. He slowed. There was something else layered beneath it, something he couldn’t quite name. But he knew that scent. He knew it, even if he hadn’t realized it until now.
His eyes scanned the corridor, following instinct more than logic, until they landed on a figure leaning against the railing.
Shepard.
It was the first time he’d seen her not in armor or fatigues. She was in workout gear—skin-tight leggings and a hoodie that clung to her frame. He found himself surprised. He’d assumed most of her imposing presence came from her armor, but now…
Now he saw the truth.
Every line of muscle in her arms and legs spoke of years of discipline and training. She was lean, sure, but there was no mistaking the strength beneath the surface. Garrus wasn’t an expert in human anatomy, but he knew enough to recognize that this wasn’t common.
He could hear her heartbeat—still elevated. She’d been running, probably pushing herself harder than necessary.
Did she run here… for this?
After a few moments of silent observation, Garrus decided to approach.
“Commander,” he called, his voice breaking the stillness. “I… didn’t expect to find you here.”
Shepard jumped slightly, clearly lost in her own thoughts. She turned, her eyes narrowing playfully.
“Spirits, Vakarian,” she muttered, a grin tugging at her lips. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”
Garrus chuckled, a deep, familiar sound that settled the strange tension between them. “I wasn’t really sneaking, Commander.”
But the playful tone didn’t last long. The question he’d been holding back slipped out before he could stop it.
“Why me?”
The words hung in the air, heavier than he expected. He wasn’t sure what answer he wanted—but he knew he needed one.
Shepard didn’t hesitate. She met his gaze, steady and sure, her voice quieter this time, but no less certain.
“Because I don’t think I can do this mission without you,” she said simply. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t for you.”
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle between them before finishing, softer now.
“And because I trust you.”
Garrus felt something shift deep in his chest—a warmth he hadn’t expected, steady and grounding.
For the first time in a long time, someone believed in him.
And that made all the difference. Suddenly, this mission felt a lot more personal.
The air between them felt lighter after Shepard’s words, but it wasn’t the kind of lightness that faded. It lingered, settling in Garrus’ chest like a steady pulse. Can’t do this without me? The weight of that hit harder than he expected, and for once, it wasn’t just about the mission.
They started walking, no clear destination in mind. The Citadel’s artificial night stretched around them, quiet and still, broken only by the soft hum of overhead lights and the occasional distant echo of late-night wanderers.
At first, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Just… easy. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling.
But eventually, Garrus found his voice.
“You know,” Garrus started, glancing sideways at her, “I should probably thank you.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “For what? Dragging you into a mission that’s probably going to get us both killed?”
Garrus chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Commander. For letting me come along. For trusting me.”
The smirk on her face softened into something warmer, and she shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. But Garrus knew better. Trust wasn’t something either of them gave easily.
She slowed her pace, her eyes flicking toward him, and then—just like that—she said it.
“Drop the Commander, Garrus. It’s just Jane.”
The words were simple, casual—like she was commenting on the weather. But they hit Garrus harder than he expected.
Jane.
For a second, he just blinked at her, the weight of the name settling in his chest. But, of course, he couldn’t leave it there.
Garrus cleared his throat, covering the unexpected tightness with a light chuckle.
“Not pyjak then?” he teased, tilting his head with mock innocence.
Shepard rolled her eyes and elbowed him playfully, but didn’t bother to respond—didn’t stop him either.
“Alright, Jane,” he said, testing the name like it was some kind of secret code. It felt… right. Familiar in a way that surprised him. “But if we get into a firefight, don’t blame me if I forget.”
She laughed, the sound easy and bright in the quiet night.
“About the Commander part or the pyjak part?”
Garrus grinned, his mandibles twitching. Yeah, he thought, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
They kept walking, their conversation drifting from light banter to random stories—Shepard sharing a ridiculous tale about an officer in her unit who’d once mistaken a vorcha for a lost pet, Garrus recounting a failed C-Sec sting operation that ended with a volus demanding compensation for a scratched suit. The more they talked, the more Garrus realized how rare this was. Easy. Natural.
Before long, Garrus noticed the faint signs of fatigue creeping into Shepard’s posture. She tried to hide it. Masking the yawn that slipped out, straightening her shoulders like she could shake off the exhaustion, but Garrus caught it.
“It’s late,” he said, glancing at his omni-tool. The time blinked back at him: 02:47. “You should get some sleep.”
Shepard waved him off. “I’m fine.”
Garrus stopped walking, fixing her with a pointed look. “Jane.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes, but the grin on her face gave her away. “You’re worse than my father.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Garrus shot back. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
But Shepard shook her head, stubborn as ever. “You need to get your things. I’ll be fine.”
Garrus opened his mouth to argue, but she beat him to it.
“Seriously, Garrus. Go pack. I’ll see you in the morning.”
But Garrus wasn’t ready to let the night end just yet. Or let her walk alone. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of parting ways now felt… wrong.
“Alright,” he said, nodding slowly. “How about this—you come with me while I pack, and then I’ll walk you home.”
Shepard hesitated for a second, like she wanted to argue, but then she smiled.
“Fine. But if you’ve got some ridiculous turian organizational system, I’m not helping.”
Garrus laughed, motioning for her to follow. “I’ll handle the packing. You just try to keep up.”
His apartment was modest—functional, clean, but sparse. No clutter, no unnecessary decorations. Just the basics: a simple couch, vid screen, a low table scattered with datapads, and his sniper rifle resting in its case by the window.
Shepard flopped onto the couch the moment they walked in, kicking off her running shoes with a dramatic sigh. “I’m starting to regret agreeing to this.”
Garrus chuckled, moving to his closet to start gathering his things. “You’ll survive, pyjak.”
He could hear her muttering something about turians and their stubbornness, but when he glanced back over his shoulder a few minutes later, the words caught in his throat.
She was asleep.
It wasn’t the rigid, half-aware kind of sleep soldiers usually managed between missions. This was different. She was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over her eyes, her breathing steady and soft.
For a moment, Garrus just stood there, watching her. It felt strange, seeing her like this. Vulnerable. Human. He was used to Commander Shepard, the sharp-tongued, quick-thinking soldier who could stare down a charging krogan without flinching. But here… she was just… Jane.
And it hit him again, that same unexpected warmth settling in his chest.
With a quiet sigh, Garrus turned back to his packing, moving quietly so he wouldn’t wake her. He wasn’t sure what this was between them. Wasn’t sure he wanted to define it just yet, but he knew one thing for certain.
He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Shepard
The scent of coffee pulled Shepard from the last traces of sleep.
For a moment, she didn’t move—just lay there, eyes still closed, wrapped in the kind of quiet that didn’t come often. The couch beneath her was comfortable enough, though her neck protested the position she’d ended up in. There was a blanket draped over her, too, which she didn’t remember grabbing.
It took her a second longer than usual to remember where she was.
Right. Garrus’ apartment.
She sat up, running a hand through her hair as her surroundings clicked into place. The apartment was dim, lit mostly by the glow of the Citadel skyline beyond the window. The faint hum of activity in the Wards drifted through, distant but constant.
She turned her head just as Garrus stepped into view, holding out a cup of coffee.
“Look who’s finally awake,” he teased.
Shepard just shook her head, ignoring the bait, and reached for the coffee instead. The first sip was strong, exactly how she liked it. Damn him for getting it right.
They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that didn’t need filling.
Eventually, Shepard exhaled, stretching her shoulders. “I should get going. Need to pack and talk to my father and grandmother before we leave.”
Garrus nodded, but before he could say anything, she added, “Meet me at the docks by 0900.”
There was something solid in the way she said it, no room for argument.
Garrus tilted his head slightly but smirked. “Yes, Commander.”
Shepard rolled her eyes, finishing her coffee before standing. “Don’t be late, Vakarian.”
As she made her way home she realized that she had been out all night, and that her father and grandmother would not waste the opportunity to comment on it. She sighed, then smiled. She could already imagine what they would be thinking.
She had barely stepped into the dining room before both Sarah and Selvek looked up.
It wasn’t immediate, but it was immediate enough that she knew she wasn’t getting through breakfast without some kind of interrogation.
She took her seat, reaching for the coffee waiting for her.
“So,” Sarah started casually, stirring her tea, “where exactly were you last night?”
Shepard barely managed her first sip before answering. “Out.”
Selvek made a low, amused sound. “That much we gathered, pyjak. You left late and never came home.”
Shepard sighed, setting her mug down. “I went to C-Sec.”
Sarah and Selvek exchanged a glance—the kind that made her want to groan before they even said anything.
She rolled her eyes. “To have Garrus transferred.”
Selvek leaned back, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but the faint twitch of his mandibles betrayed his amusement.
“You left that late at night to get him transferred?”
“Yes,” Shepard said, keeping her tone even. “Then I ran into him. We ended up walking for a while, and I fell asleep on his couch.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, the knowing looks.
Shepard groaned. “Don’t start.”
Selvek smirked. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
Sarah took a sip of her tea, eyes full of something unreadable—but Shepard had known her long enough to recognize the approval buried beneath it.
“Well,” Sarah said simply, “I hope you at least got some sleep.”
Shepard chose not to answer that. Instead, she focused on her food, pretending not to notice the way Selvek was still watching her like he was figuring something out.
She really hoped they didn’t get any ideas.
Shepard
Shepard adjusted the strap of her pack as she stepped onto the docking platform. The air carried the sharp metallic tang of fuel and steel, undercut by the low thrum of mass effect fields anchoring the ships in place.
Ahead of her, the Normandy stood waiting—her ship now. That was still sinking in.
But it wasn’t the ship that caught her attention first.
Garrus, Tali, and Wrex were already gathered near the boarding ramp. She slowed her pace slightly, watching them from a distance before they noticed her approach.
Wrex stood with his arms crossed, his hulking frame relaxed but unmistakably dominant, like he owned the damn dock. Garrus was angled slightly toward him, speaking in that measured, dry way he had when he was either debating something or trying not to sound too interested. Tali, standing between them, was shifting slightly on her feet, clearly engaged but less rigid than when Shepard had first met her.
Then, as if on cue, all three turned at the same time, sensing her approach.
Shepard quirked an eyebrow. “Something I should know about?”
Wrex let out a low chuckle, his deep voice carrying easily in the cavernous bay. “Just discussing how much fun this is going to be.”
Garrus crossed his arms, mandibles twitching in amusement. “If by ‘fun’ you mean an uphill battle against a rogue Spectre with an army of geth at his disposal, and with no backup, then sure. Fun.”
Shepard’s lips twitched. “You getting cold feet, Vakarian?”
Garrus shook his head. “Not cold feet. Just making sure we understand what we signed up for.”
Wrex grunted. “I already knew what I was signing up for. Just took a job.”
That caught her attention. Shepard glanced at him, tilting her head. “What job?”
Wrex’s expression didn’t change. “Shadow Broker wants Saren dead.” He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Figured instead of competing with you, I’d help.” His grin widened slightly. “You look like you’ll make it interesting.”
Shepard studied him for a moment. She hadn’t expected that.
Next to him, Garrus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Should have seen that coming.”
Tali crossed her arms. “And this is supposed to be better than working alone?”
“Better?” Wrex scoffed. “Not sure. But probably more fun. And I don’t have to pay for passage, which means more credits.”
Shepard considered that, then nodded. She hadn’t expected Wrex to join them. He’d been on a job to kill Fist, nothing more. She hadn’t thought about hiring him, and now she didn’t need to. She liked Wrex, so if someone was paying him to join her crew, she wouldn’t turn down the offer.
“Well,” she said finally, “we definitely won’t mind the extra muscle. Welcome aboard.”
Wrex rumbled in approval, and with that, Shepard gestured toward the ship.
“Alright, follow me. Let’s get you settled.”
As she turned toward the Normandy, she caught a brief glance between Garrus and Tali, some unspoken understanding passing between them. Whatever had been said before she arrived, it seemed like the three of them had already started figuring each other out.
That was… good.
She pushed the thought aside as they boarded. Time to get back to work.
Shepard
The moment Shepard stepped inside the Normandy, the familiar hum of the ship’s systems greeted her—a quiet undercurrent of energy that always made her feel like she was moving, even when standing still.
Before she could say anything, Joker’s voice rang out from the cockpit.
“Commander, I know we’ve got new orders, but did I miss the memo about shopping for crew members?” His chair was turned slightly, and even from here, Shepard could see the smirk on his face. “What’s next, a hanar biotic specialist?”
Shepard didn’t break stride. “If it can shoot straight and follow orders, maybe.”
Joker huffed a laugh. “That’s a disturbing mental image.”
Shepard reached for the intercom. “Joker, make an announcement. Have the crew gather in the cargo bay in fifteen minutes.”
Joker gave her a two-fingered salute. “Aye, aye, Commander.”
As they continued down the corridor, Garrus let out a quiet chuckle, his tone laced with amusement. “Your pilot is… outspoken.”
Shepard smirked. “Joker’s an acquired taste. But he’s the best pilot in the fleet.”
Garrus tilted his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Tali hummed in agreement. “At the very least, he seems confident.”
“Doesn’t lack for that,” Shepard muttered, shaking her head as they continued down the hall.
They had a lot to do before takeoff.
Walking through the Normandy with Garrus, Tali, and Wrex in tow, Shepard couldn’t help but notice how different each of them reacted to the ship. Garrus was taking in everything with that sharp, assessing gaze of his—analyzing the ship like a problem to be solved. Tali, on the other hand, practically radiated curiosity, her head on a constant swivel as she studied the architecture. And Wrex… well, Wrex looked like he couldn’t care less.
As they passed through the lower deck, Garrus ran a hand along the smooth, reinforced walls. “I’ve seen a lot of ships, but nothing quite like this,” he admitted. “She’s different. What’s the frame made from?”
“She’s got a tungsten-carbide ceramic hull,” Shepard answered, giving the bulkhead a light pat. “But what really makes the Normandy special is her stealth systems. Uses a Tantalus drive core—state-of-the-art. Makes us practically invisible when we need to be.”
Tali let out a quiet huff, sounding almost offended. “Practically invisible is an understatement. This ship is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. How did humans build something like this?”
Shepard shrugged. “It’s a collaboration. The Normandy is a joint project between the Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy. Proof of what we can do when we stop arguing long enough to build something useful.”
Garrus let out a thoughtful sound. “Could’ve fooled me. My father would have never believed something like this was possible.”
Shepard glanced at him, catching the way his mandibles flicked slightly in what she thought was amusement. Before she could comment, Wrex let out a grunt from the back.
“Fancy ship. I just care that it doesn’t break in the middle of a fight.”
Shepard smirked. “She can take a hit, but let’s hope we don’t have to test that theory too often.”
They moved on, heading toward the cargo bay. As they reached the Mako, Garrus immediately stepped forward, hands on his hips as he studied the vehicle like it had personally offended him.
“Shepard, why does this thing look like it was assembled by a drunken volus?”
Shepard laughed. “I won’t argue with you there. The handling is rough, but she gets the job done. Or so they tell me.”
Garrus knelt down slightly, peering underneath. “You mind if I take a look at the systems? I bet I could improve the handling.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “You want to fix the Mako?”
Garrus shrugged, mandibles twitching. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“She’s all yours.”
Tali, meanwhile, had barely stopped moving since they entered the deck. “Where’s the drive core?” she asked, her voice full of energy. “I need to see it.”
Shepard smirked, pointing toward engineering. “Help yourself, Tali. Just… try not to take the ship apart.”
Tali made a dismissive sound, already heading in that direction. “I would never.”
That left Wrex, who was watching the conversation unfold with a lazy sort of amusement. He crossed his arms. “I’ll be here. Seems like a good place to keep my weapons ready.”
Shepard quirked an eyebrow. “Not interested in anything else?”
Wrex grunted. “As long as I know where the armory is, I’m good.”
Shepard chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Before she could say anything else, she could already see the crew assembling.
Shepard exhaled. Time to get to work.
She turned to Garrus, Tali—who was already on her way back—and Wrex. “Alright, let’s do this.”
With that, they made their way toward the assembled crew, ready for whatever came next.
Shepard
The cargo bay was growing crowded, the steady murmur of quiet conversations filling the air. Some faces were familiar—Alliance officers she’d served with for months. Others were new, unfamiliar, or skeptical.
Kaidan and Ashley stood near the front, their expressions unreadable but their postures tense. They weren’t making a scene, but Shepard had been around long enough to recognize when someone was gearing up to object.
She ignored it for now, instead motioning for Garrus, Tali, and Wrex to stand off to the side—not too far. Close enough for an introduction.
The room fell silent as she stepped forward, her voice steady as she began.
“As most of you already know, Captain Anderson has stepped down. As of today, I am the commanding officer of the Normandy.”
That was the easy part. The next part required careful wording.
“The Normandy is no longer operating as an Alliance vessel. We are under Council authority, and our mission is clear: Find Saren before he finds the Conduit.”
A ripple of movement ran through the assembled crew. Small shifts, exchanged glances. Shepard didn’t give them a chance to interrupt.
“I won’t lie to you, crew. This mission isn’t going to be easy.” Shepard paused as she thought through her words. She wasn’t looking to instill fear but she needed them to understand the gravity of it all. “This began with an attack on one of our own colonies, but it won’t end there. Saren’s geth armies aren’t going to stay on the far fringes of Citadel space.”
She watched as the crew looked at each other and nodded.
“For too long our species has stood apart from the others. We will report to the Council, not to the Alliance, and that means some things are going to be different.” Her eyes flicked toward Garrus, Tali, and Wrex before sweeping the room again. “These three—Garrus Vakarian, Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, and Urdnot Wrex—are here because they have the skills and expertise to help us take Saren down. You will treat them as you would any other member of this crew.”
She let the words settle. Some looked uncertain. Others, wary.
Ashley’s arms were crossed. Kaidan’s brow was furrowed, and she could tell he was already thinking through what to say next.
She didn’t give him the chance.
“Our first priority is tracking down Saren,” she continued. “Our first lead is in the Artemis Tau Cluster. That’s where we’re headed.”
More movement. More shifting.
“This is the most important mission any of us have ever been on,” she finished. “and we will not fail.”
The crew started to disperse, murmuring among themselves, but—predictably—Kaidan and Ashley weren’t moving. They stepped forward instead, closing the distance between them and Shepard before anyone else had the chance.
Kaidan spoke first, keeping his voice low. “Commander, why Artemis Tau?”
Shepard met his gaze evenly. “Because we have a lead. Dr. Liara T’Soni. She’s an expert in Prothean technology and the daughter of Matriarch Benezia, Saren’s known associate. If she knows anything about what they’re after, we need to find her before he does.”
Ashley’s expression didn’t shift. “And the Council is just letting us go after him?”
Shepard sighed, folding her arms. “The Council is ordering us after him. Letting me handle this how I see fit.” She let that sink in for a beat. “And I’m handling it this way.”
Kaidan exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly, but Shepard could tell there were still things unsaid.
Ashley, though, wasn’t quite done. “And the new additions?” Her gaze flicked toward Garrus, Tali, and Wrex, who were still lingering nearby. “Just like that, they’re part of the crew?”
Shepard’s jaw tightened slightly. “Just like when Captain Anderson added you to the crew of the Normandy after Eden Prime.”
Ashley pressed her lips together but didn’t argue further.
“Anything else?” Shepard asked, voice firm.
Neither of them spoke, but the tension lingered.
She nodded. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have a mission to run.”
With that, she turned, heading for the bridge.