Shepard's comm sputtered out a notification as she passed it on the CIC, its mechanical sounding voice alerting her to a new message.

"Incoming message from Admiral Steven Hackett, Alliance HQ."

Hackett? Wasting no time, she quickly tapped a button on the console to continue. Pre-recorded, the Admiral's distinctive tired voice played over the speaker.

"Commander Shepard. I need to discuss a sensitive matter with you privately." said the message, ending with an audible click. Privately? Odd, she thought. He usually had no qualms about talking right over the ships loudspeaker.

She entered the elevator and selected the button for her quarters.

.

Shepard locked her door, approached her desk and tapped a command on her terminal to open a direct connection to the admiral. The lights in her loft dimmed and a holographic image of Admiral Steven Hackett grew till it filled the entire glass front of her model spaceship collection.

Besides possessing a rank that forced her to stand at attention, he was one of the few people in the galaxy whom she harboured a sense of utmost respect and fierce loyalty.

Everyone knew his story. Born in Buenos Aires in 2134, he was placed in the Advanced Training Academy for Juveniles when his mother died in 2146. His affinity for science and leadership quickly became evident, and by 2152, Hackett was enlisted and volunteering for high-risk missions to colonize space beyond the Sol Relay. He was commissioned as a second lieutenant in 2156 and participated in the First Contact War the following year. His rare ascent from enlisted man to admiral remains an Alliance legend. Hackett was a good man, the kind of Admiral a solider dreamed of serving under: Competent, forgiving and genuinely concerned about the welfare and opinions of the men and woman serving under him. One of the three officers who recommended her as the first human Spectre, she owed him for everything, and his trust in her had accomplished incredible things. Besides leading to her promotion to Spectre status that enabled her to chase Saren and uncover the truth about the reapers, he trusted her judgement during the battle of the citadel. Although at the cost of many human lives, the decision of leading the fleet to defend the Destiny Ascension resulted in saving the council, the untold number of the dreadnaught's crew, and secured a seat on the Council for humanity.

"Commander. Thank you for your time. I'll keep this brief." he stated; the holo's light casting an orange tinted glow on the surfaces of her cabin. "We have a deep-cover operative out in batarian space. Name's Doctor Amada Kenson. recently reported that she found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion."

True to his character, the news exited his mouth without any indication of haste or distress. She waited for a continuation, perhaps hoping that he would admit that he was joking or even overestimating the situation. The was one problem though, he didn't joke.

The news struck her as both horrifying and odd. If the evidence was truthful, he should have alerted every species in the galaxy rather than talking to her privately.

"So why call me, Sir?"

She knew she would not like the answer.

"Just this morning I received word that the batarians arrested her. They're holding her in a secret prison outpost on terrorism charges. I need you to infiltrate the prison and get her out of there." And as if the news wasn't bad enough, he added: "As a favour to me, I'm asking you to go in alone."

She shook her head in disbelief, "Alone? I have a hell of a squad with me. I'm sure they'd help out."

The Admiral shook his head. "No. Kenson is my friend. If the batarians see a squad of armed soldiers, they'll kill her. This is serious Commander. Go in with discretion, or don't go at all."

She leaned against the shelf behind her, hesitant as she weighed her options. "That must be some proof she found."

"Kenson's team found an artifact out in batarian space. She believes it's a Reaper device, proof that the Reapers are indeed planning to invade, and soon. I've known her a long time. If she says she has proof, it's worth checking out."

Begrudgingly, she accepted the mission. "What else can you tell me about the operative?" she asked.

"Amanda is a top scientist and Allicance agent working in batarian space. It's a deadly assignment, and she's on the few up to the challenge. She and I go back pretty far, Commander. I won't let her rot away in a batarian torture camp."

Seeing as the current state of affairs between humanity and the batarians were tense as it were, the thought was chilling. Who knows what they were doing to the poor doctor.

"The batarians won't take kindly to the Alliance breaking into a secret prison."

"This is not an Alliance operation - it's a one person going in alone to save a friend. If it were official mission, of course the batarians would be upset. You keep this quiet, Shepard, and there's nothing to worry about."

Except for one thing, Shepard thought to herself, nothing ever goes according to plan.

"I'll make this a top priority."

"Thank you, Shepard." Hackett responded, gratefully. "The prison is hidden underground at a batarian outpost on Aratoht. I'll upload the coordinates now." His head lowered, seemingly tapping away at the terminal in front of him. "Once she's secure, confirm her discovery. We'll debrief you when you're back."

"Got it."

He nodded to her. "Hackett out."

Closing the connection, the holoscreen faded and her lights grew back to full luminosity, leaving her staring at the model Reaper she had on display.

Too soon.

.

Activating the galaxy map, Shepard zeroed in on the planet Aratoht in the Viper Nebula. It rested on one of the farthest spiralling arms of the milky way galaxy, almost looking like it was a separate entity in comparison the rest of the tightly packed gases and stars that made up the mass of matter of the galaxy they all called home.

"Shepard," Started EDI's hologram, "The Batarian Hegemony considers any presence of Alliance military vessels in batarian space as hostile. The Normandy SR2, while an independent vessel, strongly resembles the Normandy SR1, an Alliance ship. Use of stealth systems is highly recommended."

"Thanks for the heads-up EDI." She opened a channel to Joker. "Joker, get us to Aratoht... silently. We don't want to start a war."

"Aye, Aye, Commander."

With a destination set, she had time on her hands. She needed to talk to the Wanderer.

.

Passing the cargo bay viewing window on the way to his quarters, she glanced briefly thought the glass in habit before stopping in her tracks and backing up in surprise.

The man she was looking for was below her.

On the bay floor, a crude white circle was outlined on the metal floor, both the Wanderer and Grunt circling each other around the outer rim. Although she could only see and not hear, she could imagine the sorts of commotion this was causing below her.

On one side of the circle, Grunt extended his thick arms outward, fingers flexing, maximizing his chances of catching the Wanderer. He wore a wide, smug grin. Confidence personified, she could see him taunting the man to step a foot forward. The Wanderer on the other end, stood tall, entirely still and collected. His eyes were narrowed slightly, giving the impression he was observing every muscle fibre that moved on the hulking krogan.

Grunt charged forward, hoping to catch the Wanderer unprepared and breaking the deadlock. Without a moments hesitation, the Wanderer ducked under Grunts arm almost effortlessly, returning to his straight stance immediately. Surprised, the krogan turned and charged again. The Wanderer side-stepped, twisted his body and recovered just as easily.

The truth was, Shepard thought to herself, Grunt was slow. He was slow and it didn't matter if he was. On the battlefield he had monster shields, one ton of heavy armor, and a krogan physiology. He was a walking tank, and it didn't matter if he was slow because you couldn't kill him even if he stood still. If Grunt got a hold of the Wanderer however, his strength would ensure that the match would be over. IF he got a hold of the Wanderer. He was having some difficulty. The Wanderer was too fast, but Grunt seemed to be immovable.

The Wanderer grabbed one of his arms with the other for added power and delivered a swift but powerful right elbow to the side of Grunts face. It was a bold move, and a dangerous one; it seemed to accomplish nothing but anger the tank bred. Now quite angry, the Krogan charged again, headfirst. Cringing, Shepard prepared herself to see the Wanderer being sent flying out of the circle. Instead she saw him drop himself to the floor on his hands and feet as stiff as a board. As the Krogan stumbled over him surprised, he tucked his legs into his abdomen, placing his shoulder against Grunts leg and used all his might to stand straight up. As Grunt charged, his weight was shifted to the front, putting all his power toward his upper body. Using his shoulder as a fulcrum for the advancing krogan, the Wanderer stood up, lifting Grunt into the air and sending the Krogan flat on his back.

The match was still not over however, and neither of them showed any indication that there had been a victor. She wondered what the terms of the fight were.

Now thoroughly irked, Grunt scrambled to his feet. He stood low, making slow steps to prevent the Wanderer from dodging. Unlike most sentient species, krogan eyes are wide-set; giving the krogan 240-degree vision. From his current place in the circle, it meant that he had eyes on every movement. The Wanderer shifted to a lower stance as well, realizing that his old tactics would no longer work.

Grunt swung at him, a miss. It turned out to be a feint, as he swung his arm backward in a wide arc. At such close quarters, he didn't miss. The force knocked the Wanderer back a few steps, just at the edge of the circle. Wanting to ensure a victory, he grabbed the Wanderer's arm. From the grimace on the mans face, she could tell it was a vise. The Wanderer turned and twisted the arm, jutting the Krogan forward just on the edge. Grunt didn't even have to counter it. He roughly shoved his arm around, forcing the man to release his hold or being flung from the ring. They both retreated to opposite ends of the circle again, watching each other.

Grunt charged. Expecting an attempted dodge, Grunt held his arms completely open, exposing the front of himself completely. The Wanderer didn't budge. This is what he was waiting for. Making a straight line directly toward the outstretched arms of the krogan, he reached up and used both his arms to deliver a double-strike to Grunts eye ridge and a nerve strike to his open throat, followed by a secondary nerve strike to the neck to counter the krogan blood-rage. Though Grunt was momentarily stunned, the krogans arms closed around the humanoid form with a crushing force.

She winced; there would be nasty bruises later.

Unfazed, the man delivered two knees to the krogan's abdomen, and used the bent form and loss of balance to grip each side of Grunts skull as he brought the krogan's head and crest right into the ground with a triumphant roar.

There was a commotion of activity below her and Grunt shook his head dejectedly. She sensed the match was over.

The Wanderer turned and looked up toward her, and without further adieu, took a courteous bow.

If she possessed a handkerchief, she would have been waving it.

.

When he eventually came up to his room clutching a newly acquired bottle of ryncol, he found the Commander sitting cross legged upon one of his chairs, peering intently at the small trinkets that adorned his desk.

"Sorry to barge in like this, but I was never one to stand around idly." she explained, momentarily fascinated by a triangle of stone with small engraved lettering adorning its surface.

"Don't mention it." he replied, setting down the bottle on the table, "This is your ship, after all."

Her gaze travelled along the top of the table until it found the bottle.

"You two had a score to settle?"

"We had a wager of sorts." he said with a grin. "Winner received a bottle of ryncol. Care for a drink, Commander?"

She shook her head. "No thanks, I'd rather not be puking my guts out. Most of us squishies rather not be setting off radiological alarms."

He chuckled to himself. "Fair enough. So,", he said, settling into his own chair, "What brings you to my humble dwelling?"

Shepard took her time to break the news. "I just spoke to Hackett." she said.

There was a pause.

"Yes, and...?" he urged.

"A trusted friend of his found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion."

There was a small fleeting moment of his mouth opening and closing silently, at a loss of words. He settled, his brow furrowed and dark.

"What kind of evidence!?"

"The Alliance has a deep-cover operative out in batarian space. The scientist's name is Dr. Amanda Kenson." she relayed to him. "Apparently Kenson's team found an artifact out in batarian space. She believes it's a Reaper device, proof that the Reapers are indeed planning to invade, and soon."

He stared into space, thinking hurriedly. "The Alliance has not reported this finding to the rest of the galaxy yet." he deduced. "I would have known about it by now." His eyes focused back on hers. "Why have they not?"

"The batarians arrested her. They're holding her in a secret prison outpost on terrorism charges. I'm going to infiltrate the prison and get her out of there before they unknowingly doom us all."

Unsettled, the Wanderer got up from the chair and paced around the room, dark lines etched on his face. The atmosphere seemed to change at once. A dark heaviness seemed to settle upon the room. She recalled that this was the first time she had ever seen him worried like this.

"I suppose it was going to happen eventually." he muttered, shaking his head. "Where are we headed?"

"Aratoht."

"I've heard of it. That's on the far side of the galaxy, isn't it? Batarian space." He formulated dark thoughts. "We have only a few hours before we get there. We need to get ready."

"Correction, I need to get ready." Shepard, explained. "I've been ordered to go solo on this one."

His pacing stopped. He turned to her sharply.

She did not wait for his disagreement. "As you can imagine, this a sensitive matter." she reminded him.

He agreed, begrudgingly.

"However," Shepard explained, waving her finger, "just because I'm heading down there alone doesn't mean I don't need your help. I want you to stay in contact and give me updates real-time."

"You have EDI to do that."

"You have something she doesn't. Instinct and experience. I'm authorizing EDI and Chakwas to give you temporary access to my suits feed, biometrics stats and Normandy sensors. I need every edge I can get. No human has ever escaped alive from this place." she said, her fist curling into a ball. "I intend to break that record."

He loved it when she had that steely look. Nothing could stand in her way.

"So,"she asked him, hard blue eyes connecting with his. "Do I have your support?"

"I'm deeply hurt that you would expect any answer other than 'Yes'."

"Good." She said, nodding to him. Before she rose from his chair, she picked up a small object from the desk.

"This. Is this what I think it is?" she asked him, holding the object up in front of her.

It was the scorched and broken ivory piano key.

He nodded solemnly. "It is."

"How did you get this?"

"I found it floating in the ocean," he said quietly, "far from home."

"I can't believe it survived the blast." she said, tuning it over in her hands. The shining white that it once was had been consumed by the heat, turning it black. She rubbed the side of the key with her thumb, trying in vain to rub off the darkness. When she found she could not, she gently placed it back down in it's original place.

For no apparent reason, she could not shake the feeling of foreboding that washed over her.

"Just like us, I suppose." she whispered.