"There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I am Sovereign."

-PTH-

Daxon Vahan pressed forward as fast as he could, trying to keep a brisk pace in order to get to the Citadel Docks without disturbing the general populace.

The fewer prying eyes peering at what he was doing, the better. He still had no idea what he was going to see once he got to the docks, but he trusted the information given to him enough to make the trip over to take a look.

As Daxon made his way through the Wards, proceeding to the Citadel Docks, the Turian C-Sec officer passed by throngs of civilians milling about their ways on the Citadel.

There were blue-skinned, beautiful Asari seemingly floating across the floor, or at least what some would call floating. Daxon knew it to be the exceptional level of grace with which the Asari lived their lives. As the first species to discover the Citadel since the Protheans built it, the Asari made up the largest percentage of the Citadel's population and, Daxon was sure, probably held the most power aboard the station. But it was hard to argue hard to argue with their methods. Seemingly an entirely female race, their features were soft and smooth, always perfect. They even had somewhat of a fringe, which Daxon knew was simply a cartilage-based scalp crest in place of head hair. That didn't stop him from liking what he saw, though.

There were also big-eyed, fast-talking Salarians. As much as Daxon didn't like to generalize a species, he'd never met a Salarian that didn't concern him. They were such frantic creatures. Looking like tall, thin lizards that stood on hind legs, their heads were long with a pair of horns protruding from the tops of their skulls. Their speech and movements were always so rapid, which, Daxon supposed, was what made them the perfect species to direct and oversee a lot of the trade that went on aboard the Citadel. Daxon liked to joke with his fellow officers that a pair of Salarians could have an hours-long conversation in one minute. Half the time, Daxon didn't know if he should be mistrusting of Salarians or concerned that their brains would explode if they didn't slow down.

At the opposite end of the biological spectrum, there stood the massive armored frames of the Krogan. If Salarians were considered giant lizards, then the Krogan had to be the alpha reptiles in that equation. All of them stood at more than seven feet tall with large shoulder humps. Their faces were rough and jagged with big mouths and wide-set eyes. Daxon had heard tall tales that their hides were nearly bullet-proof and that a single Krogan weighed a full ton when wearing armor. Daxon carried an acute distrust for all Krogan and wasn't ashamed of it. If their menacing looks weren't enough, the Krogan and Turians carried bad blood. Every Turian who had ever gone through military school had learned about the Krogan Rebellions nearly 1500 years ago. Ever since that war, the Krogan and Turians have never gotten along.

But Daxon mostly distrusted the Krogan because of what they stood for. Nearly all Krogan on the Citadel were either guns-for-hire or bodyguards for shady people. They stood in direct contrast to Daxon's job.

Daxon's fellow Turians rounded out the majority of the Citadel's species pool along with the humans.

As Daxon made his way through the crowd, dozens of conversation snippets washed across his ears like ocean tides, cut off almost as quickly as they began.

"...shipment's late again. You would never find this sloppiness on Sur'Kesh..."

"...she said it was her, not me, and that she didn't even know if they could meld with humans..."

"...I heard the lakes on the Presidium are filled with fish..."

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

Daxon looked down to see that, in his haste, he had accidentally side-swiped a Volus bystander with his knee.

Oh yeah, he had forgotten about the Volus.

"My apologies, citizen," Daxon said, inclining his head apologetically down at the Volus. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the short, rotund alien hissed through the breather on his pressure suit. "You can't slow down lest you be accused of not earning the credits we pay for."

Daxon just stared down at the little runt for a moment longer, his burgundy mandibles pulling in tight around his mouth. This little rat wasn't worth his time. He pressed on through the crowd.

The Volus were small and fat, round like a ball. They hailed from Irune, a planet that possessed an atmosphere that made its inhabitants unable to breathe the air anywhere else. As a result, they all wore pressure suits. Daxon had never seen what a Volus truly looked like but he didn't care to find out. What the Volus lacked in physical prowess, they made up for in being shrewd businessmen and could even give the Salarians a run for their credits. Where the Salarians were the merchants of the galaxy, the Volus were definitely the accountants. They didn't care how the numbers came out or whose blood was on the money they were getting, as long as they got it.

After what felt like an eternity, when in reality it had just been 15 minutes of walking, Daxon finally reached the main elevators that would take him down to the Docks.

The Turian pressed a finger to his earpiece.

"Becca, I'm at the elevator. Have you got me?"

"You're the cutest little red dot that ever did grace my screen."

"Oh, Spirits, Becca. Really?!"

Her soft laughter filled his ear as he sighed and shook his head. He hoped her laughing would be cut off during the descent.

-PTH-

"If everyone could please remain calm, we can all make it through this misunderstanding."

"I was supposed to be on the Presidium half an hour ago! You call this a misunderstanding?!"

Daxon sighed, keeping his arms aloft as he addressed the long lines forming at the Docks Security Checkpoint. They had to be at least two dozen people long by now, all with anger and impatience plastered on their various faces.

Daxon thought he had left this madness behind him years ago. It always seemed to come back and bite him in the rear.

The Docks always looked ironic to Daxon. With not much light flowing in from anywhere, the metal walls and floor looked dark and shady compared to the pristine whiteness of the Presidium.
This was maybe not the best first sight a visitor to the station should be having, but Daxon wasn't on any of the beautification committees.

"I'm Officer Vahan. I'm with the Citadel Security Services Enforcement Division. I'm here to help sort out the problem and get you on your way," Daxon continued, trying to placate the lines of people. "If you'll just bear with us a few moments longer, we'll make sure you move on as quickly as possible."

No one in any line looked convinced.

Realizing that would just have to do for now, Daxon nodded once and then turned on his heel, heading straight behind the long metal desk separating the checkpoint from the docks. The workers here were frantic, double-timing to try to compensate for a temporary processing shutdown. Daxon looked from side to side, peering over heads and shoulders, looking for the source of the jam.

Then he saw the back of her head, a back of a head that he would know from a mile away. Smiling to himself, he made his way straight for her.

"You rang?" Daxon joked.

But there was no joking in the teal eyes of the Asari as she turned. Daxon saw only worry and fear, but it melted a little when the eyes turned on him.

"Dax!" Aura breathed, exhaling in relief. "I knew I could count on you."

Daxon couldn't help his smile growing wider. Customs Officer Aura Voreal and he went way back. Daxon's first-ever posting as an officer with C-Sec was right down here in these docks where Aura was working. It had been an entire year of conversations and jokes as they got to know each other. He had helped her whenever someone got a little too testy about their papers or luggage and she had bailed his carapace out with any tips or leads she found.

Once he had been promoted topside to the Presidium, Daxon's only regret was leaving Aura down here. His life just hadn't been the same without seeing and talking with Aura on a daily basis.

Daxon knew he cared deeply about her, whatever that meant.

In order to hide his obvious display of fondness, Daxon cleared his throat and gestured toward the scanner she was poised in front of.

"I've seen you go through lines like this in no time at all, Aura," he said. "What's the big hold-up?"

Worry was right back in the Asari's eyes as she gestured toward the scanner with her head. Biting her bottom lip, her next words were spoken carefully.

"Its...this. Over here. We've got some kind of...anomaly. One I've never seen before."

"Luggage?" Daxon asked.

Aura nodded and beckoned.

"Come take a look."

If Daxon had eyebrows, he knew they'd be arched quizzically at the very thought of all of this. There was an item in someone's luggage that Aura, in all her years with customs, couldn't identify?

Daxon stood beside her in front of the scanner and checked the reading himself.

"Pretty standard," Aura explained as her thin, nimble cerulean finhers punched a few keys.

"Backpack. As inconspicuous as they come. All the usual items. Toothbrush, clothes, some other toiletries."

Daxon nodded. "Nothing out of the blue."

"Until we saw this," was all Aura would say as she decisively punched one more key.

The screen now showed a murky area that was unidentifiable, but it was inside the bag.

"It looks like it's just on the side, right here," Daxon pointed. "Did you search the bag?"

Aura fixed Daxon with a look.

"How long have I been doing this job, Dax?"

Daxon nodded. "You didn't find anything?"

"Nothing," Aura hung her head. "But everytime I run the bag back through, it still shows up like this. Which got me thinking..."

Aura turned behind her, looked from left to right and then leaned in closer to Dax. He leaned in too.

"There's a bulge inside the lining of the backpack," she whispered. "I don't know what it is, but it's in the exact same place."

Clarity began dawning on Daxon.

"So whetever's being carried in this bag might not be the most legal of carry-ons," he concluded. "Where's the bigshot who brought this bag in?"

Aura nodded at someone behind Daxon.

"A human," she said. "He brought it here about an hour ago."

Daxon turned around and, sure enough, there was a human man cordoned off from the rest of the lines. Another customs officer was speaking with him.

There was a black backpack on the counter between them.

"I'm on it," Daxon said without turning back to look at Aura. He strode forward and tapped the customs officer on the shoulder.

The Salarian stopped mid-sentence and turned around. Once his huge, black iris-less eyes saw Daxon's officer armor, he immediately stepped aside and busied himself with some other task.

Daxon faced the man, placing both his armored hands on the edge of the counter.

"Sir, my name is Officer Vahan, I'm with-"

"I know," the man interrupted. "You already told us that."

Daxon fixed his eyes on the human in front of him. He was a kid. He couldn't have been more than a few years younger than the Turian.

It was his appearance that set Daxon off.

Dissheveled brown hair, grungy white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, it was a very "colony kid" look.

But his behavior was off. He kept his arms together, wrapped around the front of his chest. The kid also refused to look Daxon in the eye. His eyes were always on the ground, but darting left to right pretty frequently. Daxon also thought he saw the kid shiver a little from time to time.

Daxon was trained to see what someone's behavior meant and right now it looked like the kid might be going through withdrawal right now.

Drugs. That's what was in his bag. Daxon was sure of it but he couldn't prove it yet.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions," Daxon continued.

The kid said nothing.

"First of all, I'm going to need to see some-"

"That Salarian already has my ID," the kid interrupted again, but he wasn't done there. "We already went over this. I'm from Amaterasu here to see my family. Everything else you can pull up on my file. I'm not carrying anything illegal. What else do you need to know?!"

That entire tirade was spoken as fast as a Salarian, Daxon noted. Immediately after his frustrated declaration, the kid went back to the folded-arms, silent shivering routine.

"I'm going to need to take your bag for a moment," Daxon said. He wasn't going to fiddle around with the kid anymore. He didn't need to know his name. He didn't need to know where he came up with that bullshit story. All he needed to know was what was in this bag.

Panic shot across the kid's face.

"No! You can't do that!"

"I have suspicion that you might be carrying something illegal," Daxon calmly stated. "That warrants at least a search on my part. If nothing turns up, it will be returned to you and you can go on your way."

Daxon picked up the backpack. That seemed to visibly disturb the kid. He started shaking his head vigorously from side to side.

"No, no, no, no...no, no, no...no..."

He started blinking furiously again and again. Daxon observed this and immediately his guard went up. He would need to keep a close eye on this kid during his search.

"Stay where you are," Daxon told the kid. "Calm yourself. I'll be back in one moment."

Daxon carried the backpack by its strap behind the counter and back toward Aura, holding it up as he approached her.

"Let's get another look at this thing."

But Aura's eyes shot open in terror, pointing back behind him.

"Dax! Look!"

Daxon turned in time to see the kid turn away. He heard a snorting noise. When the kid turned back around, a thin trail of red, shimmering dust was left running down from his right nostril.

What horrified Daxon was the small field of dark energy beginning to swirl around the kid's fist.

Red Sand.

Biotics.

The kid's eyes were alight with blazing anger now, anger fixed squarely on Daxon now and, subsequently, Aura behind him.

The kid brought his glowing right fist back as if he was going to hurl the stuff straight at them.

Daxon only had time to turn and latch himself onto Aura, enveloping her smaller body in his before a force like a tidal wave slammed into his back, sending the both of them flying through the air and heads-first into the machinery.

Stars exploded in front of Daxon's eyes. Showers of sparks rained down around him as they landed hard on the metal floor.

Screams exploded through the air. People ran in all directions to get away from the kid who, thirty seconds ago, was a normal if not unstable human teenager.

Now, he was a crazed drug addict who could temporarily generate his own mass effect fields.

Daxon's Kessler pistol was out and pointing at the kid as he shakily stood back up, the world spinning all around him.

"Get down on the ground!" Daxon screamed. "On the ground! Now!"

Daxon's vision was blurred from the shock of the fall. He could barely see the kid outside of his outline. Daxon didn't know if he could get a clear shot or not. He could end up accidentally shooting a civilian.

Daxon felt another lash of biotic energy smack against his front, knocking the pistol from his hand and straight into his face.

Metal gun butt met Turian flesh, smashing against Daxon's nose. Pain seared across his face.

"Arrggh!"

Now he was in incredible pain and had no weapon. But he was angry now. Daxon looked straight ahead, made out an outline, and in his intense anger charged blindly straight for it.