VICTORY PATH, EPITEIA. DAY ONE.
13:01pm

I am used to running away; my legs have never let me down.

I discovered at six years of age my efficiency at it, racing from my family's kitchen to hide from my mother's murder. Her killers never did find me, but my uncle did. I burrowed under his porch like I had promised Mother, and he pulled me out by my ankles as the emergency services overwhelmed us both, blue flashing lights above our-

Gods thrice fuck it, enough.

My memories were insistent this morning, it was infuriating. A distraction made them go away, and I had none. All I could do was run until I puked.

I can't complain. My colleagues back on the precinct thought I was here on a 'working holiday,' a lucky break from my problems. "You're a son of a bitch, Krios," T'lori had said, peering around his monitor to glare at me. "Here I am tit deep in ration theft and you get to go play on a beach."

I replied with just enough sass to upset him. "The brochure called it a lake. But I'll bring a towel, if there is one."

Everyone was fluent in snark in C-Sec; it was our main language, second only to Galactic. "Oh? Good for you. Hope you drown."

The landscape of Epiteia blurred as I sprinted my way along the edge of the lake, the waterline framed red and silver thanks to the hydroponic farms. Above them, the looming dust of Iritum's ring system swallowed the horizon; we were on a moon, but a pretty one.

Not that this moon was meant for mere mortals like me, despite the recent population swell. For the longest time Epiteia was a vacation spot for the rich to holiday in. It shared a cluster with one of the Hierarchy's largest training grounds; ten years ago, the land I jogged on existed only so the privileged few could convalesce after they sent their spawn to boot camp.

Now it's overrun with farmers and refugees, of course. There was a war, don't you know. Do Your Part For The Galaxy! adverts and vids still bombarded the media, and out of all the races here in the Milky Way, it's the turians who do as they're told and make do and mend without question.

My omni-tool flashed a number as I turned a corner; twenty two seconds shaved off from yesterday's 5k. I suppose if this run was the vacation my colleagues had jived me for, I might as well enjoy it; Epiteia was as idyllic as the brochure said it would be, but it's not as if I could take it all in running at full pelt.

Some of the nicer manors still remained, despite the need for more farmland. A curious turian family waved at as I sprinted past the borders of their home, working on their Hierarchy approved vegetable garden. The filthy drell socialist in me was pleased that a former luxury holiday home for playboys now housed starving families, but it's not as if the war made it a choice.

Another kilometre went by before the old, familiar lactic burn of my muscles twinged from the run. There was the pain I wanted. It dulled out everything-

-enemies and ego are not as important as loved ones, Kolyat; I kno-

Nope, not now. I focused on the ground, one foot in front of the other. I was sent here to help find three missing children; I should think on that, then I can go home to the Citadel. Why hadn't Oriana mailed me back? She was-

-why is everything about you? Could you think about someone else for a change, or is that too hard? Do you think-

My feet stumbled along the path. Three deep breaths and I was back to my previous rhythm. The children.

They came from families that missed them. No one knew how they disappeared from this colony; they were all turian, all from -allegedly- happy homes. Cute enough to make even the Citadel news, and their little faces were still shown during the evening reports. Never mind that a body of a child had been pulled out of Zakera's vents last week; who cared about a batarian duct rat at home when the good of the Hierarchy was missing?

The security force of Epiteia did not think anyone would actually listen when they asked for help, and the Council had sent me on loan, per Commander Bailey's recommendation. It was a new promotion of sorts, with a pittance of a wage increase. I was a detective now tasked with reviewing investigations in Council space; I had no Spectre authority, and deferred to local law while on location; all the same shit, with none of the perks.

Not that I had any hope of finding the missing children here; they were a low priority in the galaxy, even if they were good on camera. For all I knew they were taken by slavers- they always were.

No, the main reason I was sent here was because I had become a political nuisance back home; Epiteia was my punishment. Of course I was told the move was good for my career, but it was a not so subtle order to leave. All I had was a week's worth of levo rations and my uniform when I arrived. I even turned up two days earlier than planned, thanks to Commander Bailey's insistence that-

-look kid, the sooner it's over, the sooner you can come back. It'll take you a week, tops. The report should be finished by then, and we'll know for sure what the I.A. thinks. CSI gave me the ballistics report, turns out the gun was a Viper, older model, they think-

Breathe in, breathe out.

I spent my free time so far exercising and reading until I was needed, tiring myself out so my head kept quiet. What silenced it the most was running like this, disconnecting my mind from my body to shut it up. If I could take myself to a place where I forced myself to run beyond pain, even better.

An orange line blurred my vision. C-Sec's very own VI system had woken itself up, stirred by my activity. The Virtual Interface Training and Adaptation System, or VITA as we were meant to call her, was integrated into all my sub-dermal implants; I couldn't silence it unless I physically yanked her out of my own scales.

VITA was a literal C-Sec procedure no cop would forget, implanted as it was into our forearms. The Council insisted that we have it installed; everyone from baggage handlers to Commander Bailey himself remain connected, all to aid in the 'political transparency' of C-Sec.

"Your trajectory to Victory Rise is off by 1.3 kilometres, Detective Krios," she told me. VITA was programmed to be polite and androgynous, but she spoke in a rumbling purr that read as female to my ears. "Would you like me to reroute you?"

I had enough breath in my lungs to reply, voice uneven from the thudding of my feet. "Yes."

"Affirmative. Calculating: there, a new path has been set."

Several officers had already resigned. Though there was a privacy mode function for our off hours, VITA was still there, under our skin. She even woke me up every morning with reports and notifications; I did not trust her. It. Whatever.

VITA was not done with me yet. "With the current air humidity, it is inadvisable for you to continue with your current level of exercise. I recommend a lighter activity until H.G. levels are at least 4.3 hygrometers or lower, suitable for a drell male your age."

My feet crunched the gravel of the path, the ache on my calves spreading to my thighs. I counted my breaths again (one Amonkira, two Amonkira, three Amonkira) just so I could speak. "Fuck off."

She was still cheerful enough for me to hear the exclamation marks hang in the reply. "I understood that order. Logging out now for silence mode. Enjoy your run, sere!"

VITA was right about that, at least- I would. The final stretch down the hill to home was always the best part, and I felt my endorphins flood my chest. Once you pushed past that first barrier of pain, you know your body is capable of more; the land plateaus, turning into an endless road to conquer. The joy of something as simple as this makes me feel I could outrun all the Reapers in the universe if they ever came back, but my memories would do for now.

I've never understood that first instinct our bodies have when we exercise, to quit at the first hurdle of pain. Without going beyond it, you just can't know how far you could really go. Maybe it's something my kind know better than most. I come from a land of endless desert and plains; we evolved from running between safety spots, tracking our way to safety-

Well, no, that's a lie. I come from Enkindler's Basket, Kahje. After I discovered what my father did for a living and ran away, the only use my eidetic memory had as a teenager was for endless Galaxy of Fantasy raids and recalling what Imina Sirron's distinct band of scales looked like under her skirt.

My legs felt like jelly now, but I could see the prefab that made my home, my UT-47 parked outside. Another minute and I would be drinking water hunched over my table like an idiot, and I could almost taste how delicious it was going to be. I pelted it as hard as could, distracted by the roar of a carrier going too low above me.

The ship looped back on itself to land neatly by my temporary home, and I blinked at the arrival. It was unmarked, but I knew a police vehicle when I saw one; it seemed someone from the local force wanted to meet me earlier than planned.

You don't get far in C-Sec without working with a turian. After awhile, you get to know the type; this one was fresh out of the academy, going by his age, but smart enough to make detective. He had hopped out and holstered his gun in one motion, and waited by the front of my door politely.

I slumped against the prefab by his feet when I got there. I wanted to decompress from my run in peace, though my guest at least had the sense to wait while I stopped breathing through my knees.

After my third deep breath, he spoke. "Are you okay?"

He got a look for asking. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

There is a custom among my people to never waste a drop of fluid, a conditioned habit from when precious mouthfuls of water measured time itself. To spit in company is seen as a disgusting show of wealth and scorn, but not for all the pearls of the ocean was I swallowing anything after the run I just had.

I was polite enough to aim for the bush by the door, at least; I'm sure it needed watering. "Why are you here?" I asked him, standing up from my slump. I checked the badge on his chest; Detective Demus Adaraka, Epiteia Police and Security Services.

To his credit, he didn't flinch at the spit. "You're Detective Krios. I'm-"

I held out a finger before he could go on, forcing him to wait. The prefab clicked open in a green light, and I grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen. I took a large gulp before I could speak again, leaning against the frame of the door. "Continue."

He showed me his ID with a flick of his omni-tool, mandibles tight against his jaw; he was both surprised and annoyed at my warm welcome. "I'm Detective Demus Adaraka," he said.

"Pleasure to meet you." I chugged my water in silence, waiting for him to speak.

Turians were so very easy to read, I don't understand why other races have problems. He had no idea what to make of me, and was doing a bad job of hiding it. "I know we aren't meant to meet until tomorrow, but I've been sent to collect you now."

Adaraka had a rumbling Cipritine dialect that was pleasant on the ears; his hardsuit had seen better days, but was kept meticulously clean, and he was vain enough to keep his colony marks fresh.

"Any reason why you're at my door, detective?" I could see he was unnerved by my moving frill as I gulped down the remains of my water, trying his hardest to read me as I read him.

"There's been a murder."

Thank Gods, I had something to do. It was probably a test, but I was desperate for work. "This is relevant to me how?"

"You've been assigned as lead. It's why I'm here." That explained his politeness; I could work with turians like this so very easily.

I placed my hands behind my back. His eyes followed the line of my arms, and I hid my amusement at being checked out; xenophiles come in all shapes I suppose, but as Haron would say, it takes one to know one. "This is your jurisdiction, not the Citadel's. I assume it is related to the missing children case?"

"Perhaps. No one's sure. The community is a little …on edge," he replied, shifting on his feet. "The victim is related to the kids, but in passing- he worked for the orphanage they were all in, as a grounds keeper of sorts. Could just be a coincidence."

There's no such thing in our line of work, but at least it was a thread I could pull. "Of course. Orphanage still open?"

"Ah, yeah. Been open four years; there's kids still there." The unsaid hung in the air; there was a war, don't you know. These things were needed. "He died in his home, though. Been sent to show you."

My undersuit stuck to my body and I was hungry. I needed a wipe down, a change of clothes and a hot meal; If I was lucky, I might get one of those. "I'll meet you by your transport, give me a moment. I assume we're leaving in your carrier?"

"I have orders from the captain to take you there as soon as possible."

They really must be desperate if they wanted me. "I won't be long."

Officer Adaraka was probably ordered to drag my by my fins to the murder site; he was about to protest, but I ignored him to head into my tiny prefab to change. As the door closed, he rubbed his hand behind his crest, unsure what to do.

Good. Definitely one of those turians.

It didn't take long to force myself into my own hardsuit and connect my gun holster. Detective Krios: Zakera Ward C-SEC was painted on my breastplate, along with my personal number: ZW-3498. I always wore my leather coat over the top; it stored what I needed more than my armour could.

I checked the pockets for the important items; my se'aus tin, my commline, spare medigel, burner omni-tool, scrambler, medical grade gloves. I gave myself one final pat and it was time to go.

Adaraka kept the engine running for me. As soon as I swung into my seat and clicked down the barrier, I got down to business. "Tell me all you know."

His fingers worked the panels fast, eyes on his horizon. "Got the call at 11:34 am for it. Kaeruns Abtion was discovered this morning by our local historian, he wondered why Abtion didn't attended last night's Spirit service. He had access to the door code and discovered the body in the bathroom."

I opened my omni-tool to silence the VI for the maximum two hours it allowed me- I would not have it interfere with the investigation. "And our victim?"

"Turian male, hundred and fifteen years of age. Lived by himself, never married. Moved to Epiteia in '36, lived here half his life. Was military until he was forty, not much of a lifer; was part of the 235th Legion."

You could tell a lot about a turian by their service record. "Anything of note?"

My new partner shrugged. "Eh, not really. Dealt with raiders and pirates in Trebia, got a couple of commendations for it. Worked as an engineer for the hydroponics system when he left, retired at ninety. Still worked odd jobs around the colony here and there, mostly landscaping."

"And the orphanage, as you mentioned."

Adaraka nodded. "Was there from the start. Did a lot of charity work, actually- even helped out with the Spirit markers; was religious, as much as you can get with us, anyway."

Ah, the joys of colonies; of course Adaraka would have all this to hand. I assumed that unclaimed corpses were rare here, and that someone always knew someone in a place like this. "That's more thorough than I thought."

He cleared his throat at the mild compliment. "He was one of the old timers here, everyone knew him." Small communities unnerved me with their familiarity; I escaped Kahje for a reason.

The sooner I solved this, the sooner I could go home. Back to a place where I could be a stranger again, once the inquiry report was over. "Did you know him?" I said, watching the landscape blur outside the window. The lake dominated the view still.

"Not as such."

His subharmonics seemed hesitant, and I turned to face him. "Oh?"

"Like I said. He was well known in the community, you know? Just one of the old guys, part of the furniture, as much as the lake is- or was, in his case."

"Hmm." What I didn't hear was that he would be missed. Kaeruns Abtion may have been recognised by his community, but that doesn't mean he was liked for it.

I had no reason to take in his information as false, but I needed to confirm it for myself. "Do I have security clearance yet?"

"Should do. We can go to the station after to check, I'm sure the captain wants to speak to you anyway. She's in this afternoon- you'll meet Sully and Terix at the scene; Sully's an alien like you."

I chuffed at the statement. "That was a very human thing of you to say." Saying that to a turian was almost an insult.

"Sully is a human," he said, smiling at me. "Maybe it's rubbed off on me. Our CSI guy Vulis is strict about procedure, just to forewarn you. Doesn't like detectives stomping around her evidence."

"CSI usually don't, no." I got on well with the crime scene department. I knew how long and boring their work actually was; part of my community service after my failed attempt as a hitman was spent cleaning up after up them. It was as pleasant as it sounds.

I'd rather not repeat it, I once had to scrub brain matter from a ceiling. My career as a cleaner was over at least, thank all the gods. I mean, I still stepped over pools of body fluids for work and have had the delight of being spat on in public, but at least I get to wear a shiny detective badge while doing it.

"Terix, you there?" Adaraka had spoken into his comm system; we must be close.

"Yep, still here," I heard through the muffled line. "Nearly done, just have to move the stiff. Sully's with the historian still, want us to send him home?"

"The stiff? Really?" I raised a brow at the word.

Adaraka at least looked contrite. "Watch your mouth, Terix. And keep the historian there, I'll talk to him."

One of my favourite mentors at C-Sec Academy was a gentle, softly spoken salarian who took his CSI work very seriously. He taught me that murder victims should be treated with respect; their bodies are not 'vics' or 'corpses' or 'stiffs.' They were people, and we should treat them as such. "We are at the end of their journey, Krios," he had said. "It is our privilege to be."

Not so different than my father's prayers over his targets, I suppose. The difference there was he defined their end; with my job, I had to know why.

"Touching down," said Adaraka, pulling me from my memories. "We're here."