Shepard
Shepard hit the ground running as the shuttle touched down on Eden Prime, boots sinking slightly into the scorched earth. The colony had been hit hard—fires smoldered in the distance, smoke curling against the sky, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of burning metal and ozone.
Her comm crackled to life. “Shepard, keep your guard up. The colony got hit hard.”
Nihlus’ voice came through, steady but clipped. Professional. Too professional.
“Copy that, Spectre. We’ll check in soon,” Shepard replied, signaling her team forward.
She knew this was how he worked—always one step ahead, always scouting alone. But something in the way he’d rushed off without a word grated more than it should have. Maybe it was whatever this was between them. Maybe it was the secret he’d kept about the beacon. Or maybe… she was just tired of being left in the dark.
Jenkins broke formation slightly ahead, moving fast.
Damn it, Jenkins.
They barely made it past the first ridge before encountering resistance. Geth drones. A quick, brutal firefight erupted—but it was over in moments, before she could pull Jenkins back.
The quiet that followed hit harder than it should have.
Shepard lowered her weapon and stepped closer, eyes catching the crumpled form of the eager young soldier. He’d been itching for action. She’d told him—warned him—to rein it in.
Kaidan was already kneeling beside him, checking vitals. Futile.
Shepard exhaled slowly, masking the frustration and flicker of guilt behind a soldier’s calm.
“We’ll see that he receives a proper service once the mission is complete,” she said, placing a steady hand on Kaidan’s shoulder. “But for now, I need you to stay focused.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” he nodded.
Then, another transmission cut in, Nihlus’ voice taut over the comm. “Shepard, I’ve come across a lot of dead bodies over the hill. This wasn’t just an attack—it was a massacre. Stay sharp.”
Shepard’s steps slowed. She clenched her jaw, eyes scanning the horizon.
“Understood. We’ll keep moving.”
She didn’t like the sound of his voice—flat, terse, more than usual. Something was wrong. The silence that followed the transmission only made it worse. “Nihlus…?”
“Commander?” His voice returned, steady, but she could hear the concern beneath it.
“Just—be careful.”
There was a pause—brief, but deliberate. When his voice came back, it had softened, just slightly. “Don’t worry about me. Stay focused.”
Something in her chest eased, just a fraction. He’d heard her. Not Commander Shepard giving orders—just her, worried about him.
She exhaled. “Copy that.”
They pressed forward, weaving through blackened fields and collapsed buildings. Fires flickered in doorways and vents, casting long shadows. The deeper they went, the worse the destruction grew. Smoke stung the back of her throat. Somewhere under it all, her instincts itched like a warning. Something was off.
Another ridge, another firefight—this time heavier. More geth, better armed. Shepard barked orders, fell into rhythm with Kaidan, but part of her attention was elsewhere.
Where the hell are you, Nihlus?
Gunfire rang out just ahead. Over the next hill, a soldier sprinted for cover under a barrage of plasma fire. The woman dove and rolled, returning fire with sharp, practiced bursts. She moved like she knew what she was doing—like she’d done this before.
Shepard stepped out from cover, rifle raised. Two geth had turned toward the soldier—after impaling what looked like a civilian on some sort of metal spike. The final drone dropped under a coordinated burst from Shepard and Kaidan.
The soldier—bruised, winded, but still standing—straightened and offered a crisp salute. “Thanks for the assist, Commander. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212.”
Shepard returned the gesture with a short nod. “Report.”
Ashley gave a quick, grim summary—how the geth had descended without warning, how her unit was wiped out before they could regroup. She mentioned the Prothean dig site nearby, and offered to lead the way.
They advanced once more, picking their way through scorched corridors and a narrow path that led toward the excavation site. Equipment lay half-buried in the dirt—crates overturned, consoles cracked and sparking, and a layer of fine dust that hadn’t settled yet.
But no beacon.
Shepard crouched beside the central console, frowning at the data readouts. Someone had moved it. Recently.
She tapped her comm. “Captain, the beacon’s gone. Looks like it was relocated.”
Before Anderson could reply, Nihlus cut in. “Change of plans. I’m heading to a small spaceport nearby. Meet me there.”
Shepard rose fast. “Nihlus—wait. We’re close. We can—”
But the line had already gone dead.
She stared at the comm for a moment longer than she meant to, jaw set.
“Ma’am?” Kaidan asked, already shifting into motion.
She blinked, nodded once. “Let’s go. Now.”
She motioned to Kaidan and Ashley to move out, urgency settling in the pit of her stomach.
She didn’t like the tone of Nihlus’ voice—too focused, too flat. She hadn’t known him long, but long enough to recognize the subtle shift. He was on edge. She hadn’t seen him like this on any of their previous missions.
And if whatever he’d seen was enough to make him not wait for backup—
then it was worse than she wanted to imagine.
As they fought through the outskirts of the spaceport, dread began to settle in. There were too many geth and no sign of Nihlus anywhere. No communication. If he had made it here, she imagined the geth would be down by now.
Then, as she walked closer, her breath caught. It was Nihlus—on the ground.
No…
Without warning or hesitation, she took off running, dropping to one knee beside him. His breathing was shallow, his mandibles barely twitching. Blood slicked his armor, pooling beneath him in a slow, terrible spread.
“Nihlus,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, pressing a hand lightly to his shoulder, as if her touch could keep him here a little longer.
His eyes found hers, the sharp edges of his gaze softened by something she couldn’t quite name. “Shepard…” His voice was weak, and yet, it still carried that same surety. “There’s more to this… I just didn’t see it soon enough.”
Shepard swallowed, shaking her head. “We’ll get you out of here—”
“No,” he interrupted, reaching for her hand, exhaling slowly. His gaze softened, searching hers for something unspoken. “Thank you… for everything. For us.”
She grasped his hand, squeezing gently, as if sheer willpower could save him. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re not done yet—”
His fingers twitched, the faintest movement in his mandibles. “We are. But you…” He took a shallow breath, the effort visible. “You still have a mission. Finish it.”
Shepard clenched her jaw, nodding once, but she couldn’t keep it from her eyes—the way they burned, the way her breath hitched just slightly.
“There was something here, Nihlus,” she said quietly, her voice barely steady. “It wasn’t just a good night.”
His gaze lingered for a fraction longer, something like relief flickering in his dimming eyes. His fingers twitched once more—then went still.
She held onto his hand until the last trace of strength faded from his grip.
And then, he was gone.
She stayed there a moment longer, frozen in place. Her shoulders rose with a slow, trembling breath. She blinked hard, once, twice, until the burn in her eyes dulled, until she could breathe again.
Only then did she move.
She pressed her lips into a hard line, reached for his pistol—the weight of it grounding her for a moment as she secured it to her belt. Sentimentality, maybe. But she couldn’t leave it behind.
A shuffling noise came from behind a nearby crate. Shepard’s hand snapped to her weapon as Ashley moved up, rifle trained ahead. “Whoever’s back there, come out! Hands where we can see them!”
A man stepped forward slowly, hands raised. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there! Name’s Powell—I work here. Or I did, before… all this.”
Shepard kept her weapon low but ready. “You saw what happened here?”
Powell’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah. I saw what happened to your friend. There was another turian here before you. He and Nihlus knew each other—or at least, Nihlus seemed to recognize him. Relaxed around him. Called him… Saren, I think?” He swallowed again, voice trembling. “Then, just as Nihlus turned away, Saren shot him in the back. No hesitation. Just—bam.”
Something inside Shepard went cold, sharp, immediate. Her jaw tensed so hard it hurt.
“Saren did this?”
Powell’s hands shook. “I swear, I’m not making this up. I barely got away before he and the geth left. He was talking about the beacon, something about it ‘not being here.’ I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.”
Shepard exhaled slowly, not trusting her voice for a moment.
Anger surged up her spine—clean, blinding, ready to tear through anything in its path. She pressed it down. Not now. Not here.
She forced her tone into something steady, something her team could follow.
“We still have a job to do,” she said, and it was as much a command to herself as it was to Kaidan and Ashley. “We find that beacon.”
The push through the spaceport was brutal—more geth, heavier fire, the entire place were trying to keep her from moving forward. Each shot, each explosion landed against the raw edge of her grief, sharpening it.
When they finally reached the beacon, Shepard tapped her comms. “Normandy, the beacon is secure. Request immediate evac.”
There was a pause, then Joker’s voice came through, tinny but steady. “Copy that. And Commander, we’ve had no word from Nihlus on our end. Captain wants to know if he’s with you.”
Shepard’s jaw tightened, but her voice stayed level. “Nihlus… and Jenkins didn’t make it.”
Joker hesitated for a beat. “Well… shit. Sorry, Commander. Shuttle en route—ETA four minutes.”
“Roger, Normandy. Standing by.”
She turned, scanning the area—only to catch a flicker of movement in the corner of her vision. Kaidan, stepping closer to the artifact, curiosity etched across his features.
Her pulse jumped. “Kaidan—back off!” she barked, already surging forward.
The beacon flared to life before he could react, its glow wrapping around him in a flickering corona of light. Shepard lunged without hesitation, grabbing his armor and yanking him back.
But the energy twisted, recoiling from him and turning on her instead. Heat slammed into her, followed by light and a sudden, impossible gravity. Her breath caught in her chest, her limbs locking as the pull intensified.
Then came the visions.
Fire. Metal. Screaming stars. A galaxy unraveling in silence.
Pain tore through her skull, sharp and endless. The world fractured.
And then… nothing.
Shepard
Shepard’s consciousness drifted in and out, a dull throbbing in her skull pulling her toward wakefulness. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nose, the quiet hum of the Normandy’s med bay humming in the background. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she found Dr. Chakwas standing over her, datapad in hand, a familiar look of quiet concern on her face.
“Easy, Commander,” Chakwas said, setting the datapad aside. “You’ve been out for a while. How do you feel?”
Shepard took a slow breath, blinking to clear the haze in her vision. “Like I got hit by a damn cruiser.”
Chakwas gave a small, knowing smile. “Not far off, considering. The beacon did something to you. I ran scans—nothing immediately life-threatening, but you were unconscious for quite some time.”
Shepard hesitated, shifting against the cool sheets. “What exactly did it do to me?”
Chakwas sighed. “That’s the part I don’t have an answer to yet. Whatever it was, it didn’t leave a clear trace. But your brain activity spiked in ways I’ve never seen before—almost like it was trying to process something beyond normal comprehension.”
Shepard exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Great. Another mystery.”
Chakwas hesitated for a moment before setting her datapad down on the counter. “Shepard,” she said, her tone quieter now. “How are you?”
Shepard frowned slightly. “I already told you, I—”
“I don’t mean physically,” Chakwas interrupted gently. “I heard about Nihlus.”
Shepard stilled. It shouldn’t have surprised her—Chakwas was nothing if not observant, and she had been one of the few people who knew. Still, hearing it said aloud felt like pressing on a wound she hadn’t even had time to acknowledge.
“I don’t know what to feel,” Shepard admitted after a long pause. “Angry. Confused. I barely even know how this happened, and now it’s over before I could figure it out.”
Chakwas nodded, stepping a little closer. “That’s grief, Shepard. Just because it wasn’t long, doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. You don’t have to push it down.”
Shepard clenched her jaw, forcing herself to steady her breathing. “I can’t afford to fall apart. Not now. I have to focus.”
Chakwas studied her for a long moment before sighing. “Alright. But if you ever need to talk… you know where to find me.”
Before Shepard could respond, the med bay doors slid open with a quiet hiss.
“Commander,” Captain Anderson’s voice cut through the quiet as he stepped inside. “I need to speak with you.”
Chakwas gave Shepard a final assessing look before nodding and stepping away. Shepard swung her legs over the side of the bed, muscles aching in protest as Anderson stopped in front of her, his expression grim. “This doesn’t look good. The Council is going to see Nihlus’ death and the destruction of the beacon as a serious failure.”
He paused, then turned his full attention to Shepard. “Are you alright?”
Shepard blinked, caught off guard by the question. The timing seemed odd, given the gravity of the situation. “I’m fine. Just a headache.”
Anderson’s expression remained steady, studying her for a moment longer than necessary—like he was looking for something beyond physical injury. But he let it go. “We’re en route to the Citadel now. The Council needs to be briefed. But don’t expect them to take our side easily.”
He crossed his arms. “Saren is a living legend. One of the most experienced Spectres in the galaxy, and the Council will protect him. They won’t just take our word for what happened on Eden Prime.”
Shepard frowned. “Why? He was there. He killed Nihlus. That should be enough.”
Anderson exhaled. “It won’t be. Saren hates humans, Shepard. He always has. He opposed humanity joining from the start, and he’s made no secret of his belief that we don’t belong in galactic politics. The Council will give him the benefit of the doubt before they ever listen to us.”
Shepard’s fists clenched in frustration. “So what do we do?”
“We find proof,” Anderson said simply. “Something undeniable.”
With that, Anderson turned to leave. Shepard remained seated for a moment longer before exhaling and pushing herself off the bed. The moment she stepped out of the med bay, she knew where she needed to go.
Her quarters were quiet, dimly lit by the glow of the ship’s systems. She sank onto the bed, running a hand over her face before leaning back against the pillow. Silence pressed around her, but her mind refused to still.
Nihlus.
She hadn’t let herself dwell on it before, not when there was a mission to finish, but now, here in her quarters, she couldn’t push it away. She thought of the other night—of the easy comfort between them, the quiet understanding that had settled there before either of them had spoken a word. Even then, he had been caring in a way she hadn’t expected. In a way, she imagined, he hadn’t expected either.
She had noticed the way he watched her, like he was trying to piece together something just out of reach. She had noticed the hesitation, the curiosity, the way he weighed his words before he spoke. And she had wondered—how was this going to play out.
She had agreed to try. She had known, even then, that it was unlikely to last. Seeing each other only every few weeks or months would have made things difficult, maybe even impossible. But at least it would have been something real. At least they would have been a good memory.
Now, there would always be the what-ifs.
Her mind drifted back to his final moments, the way his eyes had softened, the flicker of relief when she had told him there was something here. Then she thought of some of the last words he had managed before the light left him: “Thank you… for everything. For us.”
She hadn’t thought about what those words meant at the time, but now… now she wondered if she had given him peace, even in the end.
And as much as she tried to keep her emotions in check, she felt something simmering beneath it all. Anger. Frustration. Maybe even grief. Not just for Nihlus, but for the chance they had barely begun to explore. He had trusted the wrong person. And now he was gone.
She turned onto her side, staring at the far wall of her quarters, jaw tight.
She would find proof. She would bring Saren down.
And she would make sure Nihlus wasn’t just another name lost in the void.
Shepard
The Normandy arrived at the Citadel late in the evening, its approach illuminated by the station’s sprawling skyline. Shepard barely acknowledged the sight, her thoughts distant as she stepped off the docking bay and into the quiet bustle of the Presidium. She had told Anderson she would report in the morning—tonight, she had somewhere else she needed to be.
Sarah Shepard’s residence was in one of the quieter districts of the upper wards, a place of understated elegance rather than ostentatious wealth. Shepard paused briefly before keying in the code that had never changed since she was a child. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and the familiar scent of old books and faintly spiced tea wrapped around her like a worn but comforting blanket.
“I was wondering when you’d stop sulking outside,” came a voice from the sitting room.
Shepard exhaled a short laugh and stepped inside, finding her grandmother reclining in a plush chair, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. Despite her years, Sarah Shepard still carried herself with the quiet authority of a woman who had spent a lifetime navigating the complexities of politics and power. Her sharp green eyes, so much like Jane’s, studied her over the rim of the cup.
“Come here, girl. Let me look at you.”
Shepard sighed but obeyed, stepping forward until Sarah took one of her hands, squeezing it lightly. The gesture was simple, but it carried with it a lifetime of understanding. Shepard had sat with her so many times before—frustrated with her parents, complaining about duty, when she and Sean broke up, confiding things she couldn’t tell anyone else. And now, without saying a word, Sarah already knew.
“Something happened,” her grandmother said softly.
Shepard swallowed, suddenly feeling that tightness in her throat again, the one she had pushed down since leaving Eden Prime. “Yeah. Something happened.”
Sarah let go of her hand and gestured to the couch. “Sit. Start from the beginning.”
Shepard hesitated for just a moment before sinking onto the couch, resting her elbows on her knees. “I met a Spectre,” she began. “A turian. Nihlus Kryik.”
Sarah lifted a brow but said nothing, waiting.
“We… had something. I don’t even know what to call it. It was new, and it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but—” Shepard exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “It did. Maybe it did. I don’t know.”
Her grandmother didn’t react immediately, letting her speak, letting her sort through the tangle of emotions she had been refusing to acknowledge.
“We spent time together. Talked. Sparred. I noticed the way he watched me, the way he tried to figure me out. And I let him. He was careful, thoughtful in ways I don’t think he even expected himself to be. I agreed to try—to see where it would go, even though we both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But now… now I don’t even get to know how it would’ve ended.”
Shepard’s voice grew quieter. “He was killed on Eden Prime.”
Sarah set her cup down gently. “I see.”
Shepard swallowed, shaking her head. “I barely knew him. Not really. Not the way that should make this feel like… like I lost something real. But I do. I feel it. And I keep telling myself it’s ridiculous, that it was too soon for it to mean anything.”
Sarah sighed, leaning forward to rest a hand over hers. “Jane, love doesn’t have to be long-lived to be real. And grief isn’t measured in time—it’s measured in loss. You lost someone who could have been something to you, and that is enough.”
Shepard looked away, her jaw tightening. “It just feels selfish. We didn’t have enough time. He’s barely gone, and I don’t even know what I’m mourning.”
Sarah squeezed her hand. “You’re mourning what could have been. That’s just as real. You cared for him, even if you didn’t love him yet. That’s enough. You’re allowed to feel this, Jane.”
Shepard didn’t reply immediately, just stared at the floor, shoulders tense. Then, slowly, she exhaled, the weight in her chest loosening just enough.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Maybe I am.”
Sarah gave her a knowing look and patted her knee before rising from her seat. “Get comfortable, Jane. I’ll fetch some tea.”
Shepard hesitated for a moment, then sighed and kicked off her boots. She tucked her legs up onto the couch, leaning into its familiar cushions. The quiet, the warmth of home settled around her like a well-worn blanket. She blinked rapidly, trying to force back the pressure behind her eyes, but the moment she let herself relax, the tears came.
Silent at first, then steady, rolling down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.
By the time Sarah returned, a steaming cup of tea in hand, she took one look at Jane and set the cup down on the table before settling next to her. Without a word, she reached out and gently guided Jane’s head down onto her shoulder, rubbing slow circles on her back.
“It’s alright to feel this way, Jane,” Sarah murmured. “You can’t keep this in forever. Let it out.”
Shepard didn’t respond, but her breath hitched, and she pressed her face into her grandmother’s shoulder as the weight of everything finally crashed over her. The mission, Nihlus, the grief she had refused to acknowledge—it all came spilling out in quiet sobs that she barely had the strength to contain.
Sarah held her close, patient as ever, staying with her until exhaustion finally took over. Jane fell asleep curled against her, the faint scent of spiced tea lingering in the air as the quiet night settled around them.
Shepard
Shepard woke with a start, blinking against the soft glow of the lights filtering through the curtains. She was in her bed, she realized belatedly. She didn’t remember getting here. The last thing she recalled was breaking down in the sitting room, her grandmother’s arms wrapped around her as exhaustion finally took its toll.
She took a slow breath, pushing back the lingering heaviness in her chest, then forced herself to rise. After dressing in clean fatigues, she made her way downstairs, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
The dining room was already set, breakfast laid out with the quiet efficiency that only years of well-trained staff could maintain. Sarah sat at the table, poised as ever, a cup of tea in hand. The butler approached, setting a plate of food, coffee, and a glass of orange juice before Shepard as she sat.
Sarah glanced at her over the rim of her cup. “What’s on your schedule today?”
Shepard picked up her coffee, taking a careful sip before responding. “I’m supposed to meet the Council. I have to give my report on Eden Prime.”
Sarah’s gaze sharpened. “The Council? Why are they involved?”
Shepard sighed, setting the cup down. “Nihlus was there to evaluate me for Spectre candidacy. The beacon was lost, and now…” Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup. “Now it’s Saren.”
Sarah’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that made Shepard pause. “I already pulled the mission reports,” she said smoothly. “I noticed you reported that Saren killed Nihlus.”
There was something about her tone that made Shepard narrow her eyes. “You know him.”
“Not personally,” Sarah admitted, setting her cup down gently. “But I know of him. I know what’s in the official reports, and I know what Anderson has told me. And what I know isn’t good. He’s always been ruthless, but this… this I never would have predicted. Killing another Spectre? That’s unprecedented.”
Shepard exhaled, shaking her head. “I’ll have to deal with that when I face the Council.”
Sarah nodded, then gave a small smirk. “Then don’t be late.”
Shepard
The Citadel Tower loomed ahead as Shepard, Kaidan, and Ashley approached the Council chambers. As they neared the entrance, they spotted two turians deep in discussion, one visibly frustrated, the other speaking with calm insistence.
“You need to give me more time,” the younger turian said, his tone edged with frustration. “I’m telling you; something isn’t right.”
The older turian was Executor Pallin—she recognized him from various functions with her grandmother and father over the years. He folded his arms across his chest. “Your investigation is over, Vakarian. We’ve wasted enough resources on this.”
The younger turian, Vakarian, exhaled sharply as Pallin turned and strode away. He muttered something under his breath before turning, catching sight of Shepard and her team. His mandibles twitched slightly before he straightened and stepped toward them.
“Commander Shepard, right?” he said, offering a hand. “Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. I was investigating Saren before they shut me down.”
Shepard shook his hand, studying him for a moment. There was something… familiar about him, though she couldn’t place it. Like an echo of something half-remembered. She pushed the thought aside. “What makes you so sure Saren’s dirty when no one else seems to be?”
Garrus exhaled, his tone tinged with frustration. “Something about him has never sat right with me. I don’t trust him. But everything he does is classified. I don’t have the access to get the proof I need.”
Before Shepard could respond, Kaidan glanced toward the chamber doors. “Commander, the Council is ready for us.”
Shepard nodded, looking back at Garrus. “Thanks for the insight.”
Garrus inclined his head. “Good luck in there. You’ll need it.”
Shepard turned to follow Kaidan and Ashley into the Council chambers, but that nagging sense of familiarity with Garrus lingered in the back of her mind.
Shepard
Shepard stood before the Council, jaw clenched, frustration simmering beneath her composed exterior. She had laid out the facts—detailed the attack on Eden Prime, the beacon’s destruction, the geth invasion, and most damning of all, Saren’s presence. She knew the truth. But the Council didn’t want to hear it.
“This is a serious accusation, Commander,” Tevos said, her voice smooth but firm. “Saren is one of our most respected Spectres. We cannot take action against him based on the word of a single human.”
“A single human?” Shepard echoed, disbelief creeping into her tone. “He didn’t exactly pull Saren’s name out of a hat. Our witness is a dock worker—he doesn’t have access to Citadel intelligence, he doesn’t have a list of Spectres by name. But he knew Saren’s name. He saw him murder Nihlus. How do you explain that?”
Sparatus leaned forward, mandibles twitching in irritation. “Your so-called witness is unreliable. A frightened dock worker making wild claims in the heat of chaos—hardly compelling evidence.”
Shepard’s temper flared. “And yet you have no problem taking Saren’s word at face value? You demand proof when it’s against him, but where was that same standard when Nihlus was murdered? He was one of your own, and you can’t even be bothered to investigate.”
A tense silence followed her words. Even Udina shifted slightly, surprised at her direct challenge.
Saren’s voice cut through the chamber, laced with contempt. “Perhaps your frustration is more personal than professional, Commander.”
Shepard’s sharp gaze snapped to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Saren’s mandibles twitched upward slightly, something akin to amusement in his cold eyes. “You think I don’t see it? Your little… attachment to Nihlus? How unbecoming. It must be difficult to stay objective when emotions are involved.”
Udina immediately stepped forward. “That’s enough, Saren! You have no right to make baseless accusations simply to disparage Commander Shepard.”
Tevos frowned, exchanging a look with the other Councilors. “Saren, this line of discussion is irrelevant to the matter at hand. We will disregard any such personal speculation.”
Saren didn’t reply, merely tilting his head slightly, as if he had already made his point.
Shepard forced herself to breathe, jaw still tight. She had never wanted to hit someone more in her life.
Tevos exhaled, as though washing her hands of the matter. “Unless you can provide concrete evidence of Saren’s guilt, we cannot and will not move against him.”
“Then we’ll find the proof,” Anderson said firmly.
“This meeting is adjourned.”
Outside the Council chambers, Shepard clenched her fists, still burning from the exchange. “We need to move fast.”
“Agreed,” Udina said. “You mentioned running into a C-Sec officer before the hearing—Vakarian? He seemed sure that, with more time, he’d have evidence. If he’s still looking into Saren, he might have something useful.”
“How do I find him?”
Udina smirked. “Harkin should know. He’s a C-Sec officer—”
Anderson sighed. “He got suspended for drinking on the job last month. Harkin’s a disgrace. But if anyone knows where Garrus is, it’ll be him. Just be careful—Chora’s Den isn’t exactly friendly territory.”
Udina excused himself, leaving Shepard alone with Anderson. She studied him for a moment before speaking, voice quieter now. “What’s your history with Saren?”
Anderson hesitated, then exhaled heavily. “Twenty years ago, we were on a mission together in the Skyllian Verge. There was a terrorist cell threatening human colonies. We found them, but Saren didn’t care about collateral damage. He killed everyone, civilians included. The official records covered it up. It was one of the reasons I never became a Spectre.”
Shepard studied him carefully before nodding. “Then we need to stop him before more people die.”
Anderson pulled her aside, away from Kaidan and Ashley. “Shepard, are you alright? About Nihlus?”
She stiffened slightly, but didn’t look away. “I’m fine, Captain. We barely knew each other.”
Anderson nodded, his expression unreadable. “Be careful. I know you want justice for Nihlus, but don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment. And don’t let the Council suspect anything.”
Shepard exhaled, then nodded. “I can keep my personal feelings out of this.”
She turned on her heel, making her way toward the Wards, her thoughts restless.
Nihlus should have been here. He should have been standing beside her, helping her tear down Saren’s lies. Why had Saren killed him? Had Nihlus been in his way? Had he figured something out? Or had he simply trusted the wrong person at the wrong time?
The thought gnawed at her, anger simmering beneath the surface. Nihlus didn’t trust easily. And yet, he trusted Saren.
It infuriated her. She knew now, more than ever, that she would bring down Saren.
For Nihlus.