It took a while for Garrus and Donnelly to get service, what with being aliens and all. They invoked Shepard's name, then Wrex's, and then finally pointed out they were the ones who'd fixed the guns which were now killing pyjaks with great efficiency. That last did the trick, and even earned them a few hearty slaps on the back from some of the patrons.

It then took Garrus a little longer to figure out what was safe to imbibe. Highly distilled liquor was a usually a good bet, as there wouldn't be enough levo-proteins left in it to cause problems. But here just asking for the strongest drink would get them a mug of ryncol, which apparently would kill anybody who didn't have a redundant nervous system.

They eventually got the bartender to understand the specifics of what they wanted, and wound up staring at two small mugs full of something very...clear. Garrus could swear he saw fumes coming off of the liquid's surface.

Garrus picked up his mug and held it out to the human in a toast. They clinked mugs.

"Spirits be with you," he said.

"Slainte," replied the human.

They each took a sip. It was very strong; Garrus was pretty sure it was more or less pure alcohol. Good, he probably wouldn't be dealing with an allergic reaction after drinking this.

"That's, um, not bad," said Donnelly, then coughed. "There was a fella on the Perugia that had a wee still tucked away in a corner of the ammunition stores. This kinda reminds me of his product."

Garrus regarded the human. He wasn't good at guessing human ages, but figured that the engineer was probably in his late thirties. He would have been a child at the time of the 'Relay 314 Incident' as the Heirarchy insisted on calling it. That child would have been told that the turians were monsters or demons from space, all sorts of horrible propaganda. And Garrus had just done a full-on anger display right in the human's face.

He sighed, and looked at his drink. "It's a terrible shame, Marcus, that our species got off to such a bad start. There is still too much bad blood. Too much misunderstanding. I imagine that the human stereotype of turians is that we're rigid and inflexible. That we value duty above all, and will follow orders even if the orders are impossible or insane."

Donnelly gave a wry smile. "That's pretty much spot-on. I'm guessing that turians think of us humans as a bunch of impetuous children. We're flighty and we never stick with a particular course of action."

"That's accurate as well," replied Garrus. "And, like all stereotypes, both sides have a grain of truth. Turians do value duty highly, but it's more nuanced than humans might think. That word you used before, the, um 'm' word...it's bad in a human's worldview, but to a turian it's hideous. And not quite for the reasons you think." They each took a swallow. Garrus felt a pleasant burn beginning in his stomach. This stuff wasn't half bad.

"Okay, Garrus," said Donnelly. "I'm always open to enlightenment. Lay it on me, as they say."

Garrus thought a bit on how to best approach the subject. "Let's assume," he said, "that Cerberus was indeed behind Pragia, and that the crew finds undeniable evidence of such. Now let's play a little thought experiment. What if you replaced all of the human crew of the Normandy with turians? Leave the rest of the situation the same. What do you think a turian crew would do in that case?"

The human made that furrowed-brow look that Garrus knew indicated puzzlement. "Umm...I'm not sure. Maybe try to lodge a complaint with other superiors, farther up the chain of command? No, that wouldn't work. Cerberus is the chain of command."

"The turians would tear Miranda to pieces," said Garrus, very softly. His hand twitched on the tabletop, its sharp talons curving as if seeking a soft underbelly. Donnelly stared at the turian's hand.

Garrus picked up his mug. "And then they'd blow up the ship, with themselves on it." He took a drink.

Donnelly sat for a long moment. "Why?" the human finally asked, his voice hoarse.

"Duty," replied Garrus. "Turian duty. It flows both ways, you see. The subordinate has an absolute duty to follow the orders of their superior, but the superior also has several absolute duties to their subordinates. A duty to not waste their lives, to not abuse them, and above all to never place them in a morally compromised position."

The human sipped his drink, lost in thought. "I think I see," he said. "To our hypothetical turian crew, Miranda would have failed in her duty utterly, and the only way to punish her would be for the crew to fail utterly in their duty in turn. And they couldn't then live with that. Which would leave only one way out."

Garrus leaned back, feeling a glow of satisfaction added to that from the alcohol. "Yes, you do understand! When turian duty breaks down, it breaks down hard. Sadly, I'm speaking from experience. There have been several incidents in our past when similar situations arose. One in particular. It wasn't just one ship, either. The...sickness spread to others. Fifty ships in all, before it finally burned itself out. That incident is looked on with horror by our people. I imagine much like how your 'Nazis' are considered by humanity."

He sighed. "I'm not a very good turian, Marcus," he continued. "My people consider me too lacking in a sense of duty, too headstrong, too 'human'. I've outright lied, which is almost unheard of. But there are some things that I still react to as a turian. That word being one of them. But don't worry, I don't think that our little 'plan' counts as, um, an 'm' word.. We're still loyal to Shepard."

They drank in silence for while. "I'm sorry I frightened you," said Garrus.

Donnelly shrugged "'s'alright. I wasn't scared, just a little surprised is all. No harm done."

Garrus looked over at him. "Yes, I've noticed you don't scare easily. Why is that?"

Donnelly gave him a grin. "Garrus my lad, if you wanna get that story out of me, I think we're gonna need a lot more 'o this." He raised his mug in salute, and drained it.

----------------------------------------

Shepard had finally gotten Wrex to agree to a safe passage of Mordin through the Urdnot camp. Krogans didn't like aliens in general, but they utterly despised salarians in particular. But he'd managed to thread that particular needle and now just needed to collect his crew and get back to the Normandy. He wandered the camp, trying very hard to look like he knew where he needed to go. Garrus and Donnelly should have been over by the automated guns, but they were nowhere to be seen. From the amount of gore splattered about the debris field in front of him, Shepard guessed that they'd managed to fix the targeting issue. Every so often a foolhardy pyjak would venture out, only to get immediately shot. Shepard saw a group of krogan clustered off to one side of the field, who greeted every pyjak death with a cheerful roar and upraised fists. He headed in that direction, hoping to see if one of them knew where his crew was.

As he reached the group, he heard a familiar human voice which cut through the krogan cheers.

"Hah, thas'se good one! Didja see the way his haid popped off like fookin' cork!"

Shepard pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and summoned his Command Voice. "Chief Engineer Donnelly! Gunnery Officer Vakarian! Front and Center!"

There followed some confused shuffling, and the krogan crowd parted to reveal Donnelly and Garrus standing by a railing overlooking the debris field. They each clutched a mug in their respective hands or talons, and from the way they swayed Shepard suspected it was not their first drink.

"Commander!" cried Donnelly. He sketched a salute before looking at his own hand and dropping it in embarrassment. "Och, sorry, I forgot we dinnae do tha' in Cerberus. Pleased to report that the automated guns are online and workin' be-a-utifully. Garrus and I were just makin' sure the targetin' was working all right."

Garrus nodded happily.

Shepard looked his crewman up and down. "Chief Engineer Donnelly, you're drunk."

"Commander!" said Donnelly in an injured tone. "The very idea! Nae, this is just a friendly drink in the name of interspor...interspecif...gettin' to know our alien pals better!" Donnelly clapped Garrus on the shoulder. "Both with me mate Garrus here, as well as the rest of these fine krogan lads!"

"We like him! He talks funny!" interjected a nearby krogan in a low, rumbling voice. There followed a general nodding of headplates at that.

Shepard looked over at Garrus. "Gunnery Officer Vakarian, how many of these friendly drinks have you two had?"

The turian clicked one mandible as he thought. "Um, five each. Yes, five. Certainly no more than six. I think."

"I see," replied Shepard. He gestured to Garrus's mug. "May I?" The turian handed it over. Shepard took a sniff. The smell burned through his sinuses, and he felt like the top of his head was going to come off. "Jesus wept, is this rubbing alcohol?" he exclaimed.

"Nae, Shepard," said Donnelly. "'s little harsh at first, but after ye get usta it and it goes doon a treat. Anyway, pleased to report that the understandin' aliens project is also a success. For example, I now have a much better idea of the turian concept of duty!"

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"And I," said Garrus in a proud voice, "now know what a 'wanker' is!"

He and Donnelly looked at each other, and they both began snorting with suppressed laughter.

Shepard set the mug down on a nearby table and folded his arms. "Well, Garrus, I'm glad to know that you are so easily amused. I cannot believe that you have served this long among human crews and have never heard the word 'wanker'..."

Garrus bent over, giving out a deep booming honk of turian laughter. He had one hand on Donnelly's shoulder for support, and clutched his other arm around his midsection. Donnelly also howled with laughter as he slapped one knee. Shepard thought, for a moment, that the turian might simply collapse. The Commander put a palm to his forehead and waited for them to get ahold of themselves.

The surrounding krogans watched the spectacle with great interest.

"'s not the word, Commander," said Donnelly after he got his breath back, "It's the concept. See, we gots to teachin' each other swear words and their meanin's. Well, I learned some really nice turian ones, and when we got to the word 'wanker'-"

"Wanker!" gasped Garrus. "HurhurHURHUR.." and now he finally did fall over.

Donnelly plowed on. "See, I tried to tell him that it meant a useless bugger, y'know, someone who can't get with the burds and so's has to sit at home and self-stimulate." Donnelly made some vague waving gestures near his midsection. "Turns out that's somethin' they can't do."

Shepard tried to sort through the engineer's explanation. "They can't get with the birds? What birds?"

"Nae, I mean the self-stimulation bit. They got those great sharp claws on their hands, y'know, it would do a real number on their plumbin'." Donnelly shuddered. "So's I had to describe how humans wank, right? In the name of better understandin' among races and that. Turns out it's the funniest fookin' thing he's ever heard of."

"Marcus, stop," gasped Garrus from the ground.

The engineer chuckled. "And it is pretty funny, when ye think about it. From an alien perspective, like. Ha! Per-spec-tive! Call me drunk..."

Shepard took a deep breath as Garrus wobbled back to his feet. "All right," the Commander said, "You are both off duty at the moment, so I will chalk this one up as a successful attempt at winning hearts and minds." He nodded amiably at the surrounding krogan. "However, Chief Engineer Donnelly, I believe you are back on shift in seven hours."

"Aye, sir."

"And, Gunnery Officer Vakarian, while you are off of the combat roster due to your injury, I understand that you have a repel boarders drill which you are running in eight hours."

"Umm, yes Commander. That's right."

Shepard gave them his 'sage elder leader' nod. He'd practiced it a lot. Hopefully the krogan would think that this was all perfectly normal alien behavior.

"And I have a ground op to plan for," he said, "So, let's all go back to the shuttle, and get back to the ship. I would highly recommend that both of you pay a visit to Dr. Chakwas for some hangover relief before you go to sleep." He regarded the mug next to him and shuddered. "Otherwise, tomorrow morning you're both going to wish I had simply shot you."

----------------------------------------

Tali walked into the mess area, hoping against hope that she could find a something other than fruit flavor somewhere in her rations. Somehow, in the rush to get on board the Normandy after Haestrom, she'd forgotten to grab the crate with all of her savory rations.

Shepard and Mordin sat at one of the tables, with a map printout spread between them. They murmured in low voices as they pointed at various terrain features, planning some kind of raid. Shepard raised his head and smiled at her. Tali patted his shoulder as she went past, feeling a little surge of guilty pleasure at the physical contact.

There were a few others in the mess, and most of them smiled at her as she passed. Rogers was also there, but conspicuous in that he didn't make eye contact or smile at her. The engineer's assistant had never been rude to her, exactly, but he definitely kept his distance.

The quarian reached the kitchen and pulled out her storage bin. It was marked with the curlicue script of her people as well as a large sign that said "WARNING, DEXTRO PROTEINS! GRUNT, DO NOT EAT THIS!". Tali muttered to herself as she sorted through the paste tubes. "Fruit, fruit, fruit...caramel? No, that's still a sweet one."

A shadow loomed over her. She looked up to see Garrus also enter the kitchen area. "Hi, Garrus!" she said. She was always glad to see the turian. He was handsome, though maybe not quite as handsome as Shepard. There had been some tense moments between them, way back at the start of the pursuit of Saren. But Garrus had since proven to be a good friend. And, she had to admit, he was a very snazzy dresser when off-duty.

The turian flinched a little, and put one hand to his head. "Sorry Tali, not quite so loud. My head's still a bit fragile."

"Oh, sorry."

"Yeah, if you ever go to Tuchanka watch out for that krogan moonshine."

Garrus pulled out his own storage bin, which also bore a big warning sign for Grunt. Tali looked over with a little bit of envy. Sure, Garrus's rations were mostly freeze-dried and not as nice as what the humans had, but at least he had some variety. He must have caught her glance, because he tilted his bin towards her. "Would you like to try one? It's all dextro, so no problems there."

She felt her cheeks flush a little. "Oh, no, I couldn't."

"It's no big deal, I'll trade you."

"No, I mean it has to be sanitized. And also of the right consistency to interact with my suit's feeding mechanism."

"Oh, got it." He thought a bit. "Wait, I remember we had some quarians working on contract for C-Sec IT a while back. They had their own rations, but they also were able to eat...this one." He pulled out a ration. It was a pouch instead of a tube, but the nozzle at its top looked like it would plug into her suit properly.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Meat paste, I think." He flipped it over and examined the printing on the other side. "Yep. Pureed tulska loin. Should be pretty tasty."

Tali felt her stomach rumble. "Keelah, I haven't had meat in ages."

Garrus smiled and passed her the pouch. "Take it, then. I'll make sure to get more in. And you should put in a requisition to Sergeant Gardner, he'll make sure you get a better variety of quarian rations."

Tali didn't like the thought of having to deal with Gardner. He seemed a little too loud and boistrous, plus he had volunteered to join Cerberus. But aloud she said "Oh, I couldn't bother him."

Garrus sighed. "Tali, it's not a bother, it's his job. Besides, he likes you."

That was a bit of news she wasn't expecting. Sure, the human cook had always greeted her with enthusiasm, but he did that to everyone. "He likes me?"

"You silly, everybody on board likes you. You're our little bubbly good-luck charm. You should have seen how happy Shepard became when we got the word to go help you out at Haestrom."

Again, Tali felt that little flare of guilty pleasure in her stomach. "Well, I knew Shepard liked me. He's always been a good friend." She looked over at the Commander's broad back, and felt her cheeks flush again. She was grateful that her visor was only one-way transparent.

Garrus stood and leaned against the kitchen counter. "You should tell him, you know," he said in a low voice only she could hear.

"No," she replied, in an equally low voice. "I couldn't do that to him. He couldn't possibly think of me in...that way."

"You might be surprised," Garrus replied.

Tali glared at him. Why was he insisting on this? "Do you know something, Garrus?"

The turian shrugged. "I don't, actually. All I am saying is you might be surprised. And I think it would be worth it to try."

Tali stood and thought for a moment. The little flare of pleasure burned brighter at the thought of her and John together. But together how? They couldn't be intimate, not in the usual way. And it wasn't as if Shepard lacked for other opportunities. She narrowed her eyes at the memory of that asari, Liara, back during the pursuit of Saren. The young archaeologist had been all but throwing herself at Shepard. Nothing had actually happened...well, nothing definitive. There had been rumors swirling around the old Normandy of a secret one-night tryst before the Ilos mission.

Tali shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I know you mean well, Garrus. But John deserves a normal relationship, with someone he can be with properly. Not with some weirdo who can't get out of her suit." She looked down. "Thanks for the meat," she said, and walked out of the mess.

----------------------------------------

The gentle pulsing of the Normandy's drive core was not helping with Donnelly's looming headache. He really needed to find an excuse to be elsewhere on the ship. He had just finished his checks and was leaving the core alcove only to run into Rogers.

"Hey, Chief, do you have a moment?" The assistant looked even more sour than usual.

Donnelly gave an internal sigh. It was way too early in the shift to be dealing with Rogers, especially so soon after a bout of heavy drinking. "Yeah, go ahead."

"I'm just trying to understand how the quarian fits into our command structure. Is she allowed to give us orders?"

"She has a name, David." Donnelly felt a little warning pulse behind one eye. He couldn't get angry. That would be inviting in a full-blown migraine.

"Okay, fine, if Tali gives us an order do we have to follow it?"

Donnelly massaged his temples with one hand. "Has she ordered you to do something?"

"Not really, it was more like a suggestion, but-

Donnelly cut him off. "Do you follow Shepard's orders?"

"Of course," replied Rogers. "But-"

"And Shepard ordered you to follow my orders?"

"Yeah, but-"

"And," Donnelly said, "I asked you to work with Tali. I didn't order it because I assumed you were an adult. So let me go ahead and clarify things. If Tali suggests something, consider it an order direct from me."

Rogers stiffened. "Sir, I know the Commander is sweet on her, but this is a Cerberus ship. We're supposed to be promoting human interests."

"This has nothing to do with the Commander. Tali has forgotten more about starships than you'll ever know. If she suggests something, she's not throwing her weight around. She's trying to help you. Just shut up and let her do it."

----------------------------------------

Donnelly entered Mordin's lab. Some deep breathing in the elevator had kept that threatening throb from developing into a full-blown migraine. He wasn't planning on discussing anything conspiracy-related with Mordin; it was just his normal maintenance time. After finding out how quickly Mordin had figured him out, he made sure to keep to a more strict schedule. It should hopefully avoid raising suspicions with EDI or Miranda.

"Evenin', doc," he said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. "How did things go on Tuchanka? Did you find your friend?"

There was no answer. Mordin stood looking out the window. The salarian's shoulders were slumped. He looked drained, which shocked Donnelly. Mordin always had energy. Hell, he never seemed to sleep. Donnelly approached cautiously. "Er, Doc? You okay?"

Mordin put one hand to his face, and gave out a strangled sob.

Donnelly thought about putting a hand on the doctor's shoulder, then hesitated. What was the salarian custom for physical contact? They were social animals, so touching each other for comfort should be a normal thing, right?

He finally placed his hand on Mordin's shoulder. The salarian placed a hand on top of Donnelly's. Donnelly realized this was the first time he had actually touched a salarian. Mordin's hand felt more leathery than he expected, and cool to the touch.

They stood in silence for a while, then Mordin nodded. "Appreciated, Marcus," he murmured. The salarian dropped his hand. Then, in a clearer voice, Mordin said, "So much pain. So much more than expected. So much sacrifice, so much death, to try to remove that pain."

The doctor drew in a deep sniff. "Need to reexamine conclusions," he continued. "Yes. Reexamine, reevaluate, determine new course of action. Can put it all right. Must put it all right." He stood straighter, as if a steel rod had been inserted into his spine. "Will solve it. Has to be me."

Donnelly gave Mordin's shoulder a pat, then dropped his own hand. The doctor turned. "Also heard from STG colleagues about Pragia. Data is...well, read for yourself." He handed Donnelly a set of printed notes. The engineer scanned through the messages and felt more and more weight bearing down on his shoulders as he read them.