Syral walked aimlessly into the Presidium, about an hour before he was scheduled to meet the heads of all Galactic policy. The idea still seemed sort of strange to him; whilst being a good soldier and a notable N7 operative, being a Spectre? The idea just sounded completely ridiculous to him; plus, it opened the line of comparison between him and the legendary Commander Shepard, which anybody's bound to come out of not looking that favourable. He could feel the Galaxy's eyes on him and the weight of a thousand star-systems on his shoulders. "Good morning, Syral Kiera" an Avina terminal intoned in her traditionally placid way.

"Um. Hello. I really don't need anything" Syral said, confused. Usually these things weren't meant to start the conversation, were they? "You have a message from Sila Kiera, London, Earth. Play message?" Syral sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes closed. "Download it to my Omni-Tool, condescending blue lady" It took only five seconds to download, his mother had never had much of a way with words. He clicked play and listened to the message through his ear-piece as he walked across the Presidium Gardens, heading vaguely towards the Council Chambers at a minimum level of determination. "Syral, I.. I just wanted to say good luck. Your father would be very proud. I.. Good luck. I know you can do it" The message ended as anticlimactically as it had began. [i]Too little, too late[/i] Syral couldn't help but think.

He turned a corner and down a set of stairs with a confident stride, knowing full well he had lost his way, but relishing the opportunity to wander without a task at hand for the foreseeable future. He watched the Presidium Gardens fall away, the small crowds of dignitaries and white-collar workers blending into the colossal sterile mass of metal. His first time on the Citadel and he didn't even get time to be a tourist, what a life. He'd started the day arriving on his shuttle and since then had been going through the tedious screening process customary to first time visitors. The low and soothing elevator muzak settled his nerves as he thought about everyone's expectations for him. Drell, customarily, didn't occupy significant roles in Galactic Society, instead choosing to serve Kahje. Other Drell would think of him as ungrateful, that his life should be spent in service to the Compact.

The elevator doors slide open, and instantly he recognised a familiar face. "And here I was, thinking I'd never see the merciless Drill Instructor Renley for the rest of my days" The corners of Syral's mouth raised slightly, forming a tired but heartfelt smile in acknowledgement of his former Alliance trainer. "Cut the crap you iguana, your terrible sarcasm won't impress the Council" Renley replied in typical Renley fashion; gruffly and with a hilarious lack of humour.

"The years have softened you, sir"

"Hardy har fuck you. C'mon, you're earlier than expected but later than they wanted, there's a lot of unwritten political hoo-hah with the Council"

The two began walking, climbing the first of three staircases that preceded the biggest moment of Syral's life. "So, why are you here, Renley? Did the Alliance think I need reminding of my roots? They know I'm an Alliance soldier through and through" Syral's eyes became more distant, he could feel the familiar pinching sensation in his vertebrae that usually came before a flashback. The downside of eidetic memory, the traumatic stuff is even harder to forget. "I think I've proved where my allegiances lie"

"This is what I wanted to talk about. Look, everyone in the Alliance appreciates your choice on Titan, it helped us keep a valuable commodity and kept the flow of credits running, we'd be out of millions if not for you"

"Look, Renley, I did what my unquestionable commanders told me, I don't need you to try and tell me it was ultimately the right decision" Syral sped up, walking passed Renley and up the second flight of stairs.

"Hey, Kiera!" Syral turns, he could feel his fists becoming clenched and his mental grip loosening, a memory trying to pull him in. "Being a Spectre means making tough calls with no authority figure you can pass the blame to; you've gotta be ready to make the smart call rather than the moral one"

"Shepard would be proud" Syral muttered, turning and continuing. To continue the build-up of frustration, his greeter floated towards him, Syral's teeth started grinding against each other as the Hanar moved at its glacial pace in his direction. "Greetings, honoured one, welcome to the council chambers; I hope your journey was uneventful?"

"Salutations, gelatinous one" Syral said with a mocking aura of mirth, "My journey was as long-lasting and ultimately futile as the Enkindlers as a species, let's get going"

It was always difficult to tell if you'd riled a Hanar or not, but Syral had picked up a few visual cues. A slight twitching of the tentacles, a protracted silence, they even seemed to shift uncomfortably. "This one doesn't wish to become involved in an argument, this one was only being polite"

"Oh, well 'this one' isn't trying to be polite. Take me to the Council, squid" As a Drell, Hanar never expected this level of aggression from Syral. This only made it funnier to him.

"It's been a severe displeasure to make your acquaintance" The Hanar said as they reached the top of the stairs, managing to convey moodiness whilst still speaking in monotone. 

"I've heard your people make good appetizers" Syral said over his shoulder as he continued to walk to the final set of stairs. He paused halfway up, steadying himself on the bannister, the memory finally taking him.

[b]The smell of smoke and plastic explosives. I run faster than I ever have before, every step reigniting the embers of pain in my shoulder blade. Pistol bullet, anti-phasic round. I hear crying. I hear them over the PA system. Running down a long, overwhelmingly grey corridor. Away from them, the people who trusted me. They explain they're going to kill a hostage every minute I don't turn myself in; I could find a way out of this, I could save them. But, I need to diffuse that bomb. As I get to the half-way point I hear the first bullet over the PA. There are five more before I get to the bomb.[/b]

The Presidium Council Chambers blurrily come back into view; Syral is hyper-ventilating, he practises some breathing techniques he'd learned whilst in Biotic training; lowers the heart-rate. He composes himself, then makes his way up the rest of the stairs, his limbs feeling slightly heavier. "Syral Kiera" The Asari councillor says, her soft, measured voice somehow carrying the length of the chamber. "You have an odd history"

Syral stands in front of them, his hands behind his back, his chin held high. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Not everyone gladly sacrifices innocent lives to get results. A Spectre doesn't just have to be ethical, they also have to be logical" The Salarian councillor says somewhat proudly. It sickens Syral, but he holds his tongue.

"I made a choice. It was either save the crew, or save a million hours of labour and keep our economy afloat. I took the logical option that helped the largest amount of people" He breaks his gaze for a second, looking down and to the left, as if addressing his own conscience. "And yet still I feel like a war-criminal"

"Regardless of feelings, you showed decisiveness and efficiency. This is why we believe you would make a good addition to the Spectre ranks. Do you accept our offer?"

Syral felt a sense of shame as he took a pause to decide. The decision he regretted most was the basis for his recruitment. He neglected to mention this, but he made a pact with himself that day to never put the innocent at risk again. This would probably interfere with his duties somewhat. He opened his eyes after a long pause and gave a slight smile. "If you will take me, I accept" And without fanfare, they entered his name into their Omni-tools. Wasn't quite the grand ceremony the Alliance made it out to be. "I'm not going to say I won't let you down, because I don't believe in certainties. I do promise that I'll try extra-hard not to, though" With that Syral joined his future comrades; a Quarian, a Geth and a Salarian. There he thought about the impression he'd made; the council painting him to be a ruthless baby-killer. He would have to prove his morality at the first opportunity. He watched the next recruit enter, and sighed in relief that everyone seemed as lost as he was.

---

A human woman had stood next to him, she looked as out of place as he felt. These were some of the most dangerous people in the Galaxy, was Syral really fit to stand amongst them? She whispered him some questions whilst the Council spoke. "Do you think it's almost over? Is that ship ours? Do your feet hurt?" He paused, but stifled a laugh, happy someone else wasn't that taken in by the excessive nature of the meeting. "In order? Possibly, I think so, and yes but I'm ignoring it" 

Syral barely managed to restrain a few chuckles during Galen's entrance; Syral fundamentally respected disrespect to authority, a trait he'd picked up as his responsibilities became more numerous. He murmured in agreement when Galen suggested pressing on, not being sold by all of the emphasis on ceremony he'd seen. He looked forward to being led by this sly Turian, he seemed like a commander concerned with civilian safety rather than politics.