Chapter 26. A Shift Of Priorities


Early 2138 CE, Juxhi, Warehouse near Phaed

The first thought crossing Saren's mind as he spotted the person stepping out of the skycar from his position on a roof that overlooked the dark-green storage building at the edge of Juxhi's capital, was that this was just the conclusive evidence Councilor Idril had asked for. The batarian, the link between his scope and omni-tool identifying him through the use of an STG program, who had just stepped out of a black X3M with Had'dah Enterprises' logo imprinted on it was a member of Edan Had'dah's inner circle. As far as the data pouring across his HUD informed him, this particular employee, Groto Ib-ba, was part of the company's private security detachment, an officer to be precise. While lacking numbers, the people selected to guard Edan Had'dah's property were well equipped, trained and experienced. If put against pirates, slaves or upset miners, they'd come out on top ten out of ten times.

But Saren knew that he was on a whole other level compared to the corporate enforcers and he was eager to put an end to this mission. The Spectre had spent the last few months rigorously hunting down members of the crew that had stolen the weapons from C-SEC, taking his time to stalk them across Juxhi, an independent colony mostly covered in deserts and canoyns settled for the resources hidden below its sandy dunes . After crossing them off one after another, Saren had managed to convince the last thief to give up the location of the next meeting spot. Now he lay in wait for his moment to strike, a Mantis sniper rifle resting against his shoulder serving as both a weapon and a tool of observation at the same time.

While his biotics made him an excellent up close fighter, Blackwatch had taken its time to teach him the art of killing from a distance. An art that would help him take care of the perimeter guards. The rifle was fitted with a mod that would reduce the noise of the gunshot and lower the muzzle flash and as the first sand grain sized round killed an unsuspecting mercenary clad in black armor, the dark red blood shooting out of his four-eyed head identifying him as batarian, he found the modification to be a good investment. He moved his crosshairs over the next guard, this one a counter-sniper completely failing at his job, and squeezed the trigger, sending another deadly projectile tearing through the air. The round shattered his barriers and reduced his exposed head to a mixture of bone, blood and brains before silently impacting in one of the dunes in the distance, burying itself in the sand. The turian Spectre shifted his aim again and dispatched another guard, once more noticing the black armor of the surprisingly female batarian.

Apparently Had'dah Enterprises wasn't as strict as the Batarian Hegemony on who could join their security forces. Normally batarian women were excluded from armed service, it was rare to see them carrying weapons and it was even rarer to see them walking around in several layers of combat-grade armor. Not that it had helped this particular one.

Paying no further notice to the fact that the Eezo supplier was more progressive than batarian social doctrine dictated, he dispatched a fourth guard before allowing the Mantis rifle to cool down, a small jet of heat clashing with the cold desert air. While many would believe a planet like Juxhi would be unbearably hot, it was a fact of nature that the sandy landscape got surprisingly cold once the sun vanished from the sky and the planet's two moons, Yando and Budmi appeared in its place.

Scanning the perimeter once more to confirm that his count of the number of enemies was correct, he pressed a button that folded the rifle in his hand into a much smaller rectangle before locking it in place on the back of his white armor. He walked over to the edge and took another step forward, a move that would've resulted in a bone shattering fall for most turians. Being biotic, he simply reduced his own mass shortly before hitting the ground, allowing his armored feet to silently and softly touch the ground before he began to sneak towards the warehouse. As far as his research had indicated the building was a single story, single room construct with small catwalks overlooking a number of large storage shelves which effectively split the big hall apart. Their solid frame might provide cover from both sight and gunfire should the situation call for it.

If he was fast enough he wouldn't have to find out.

Jumping over the fence with practiced ease, Saren crept up to the dark-green metal making up the outer shell of the building, light from the inside shining through the large, tainted windows above him. He stepped up to the door, running a bypass program through its lock system and opening it in the process. The Spectre took a step inside and when no one began to shoot in his direction, he was certain that the noise which had been created by the opening of the door hadn't been noticed. He quickly jumped behind one of the large shelves and readied his Carnifex.

The moment to strike was drawing closer.

"I'm telling you, someone's after us," a concerned batarian pleaded as Saren snuck through the large storage room, spotting two distinctive kinds of batarians talking to each other. One was obviously the man sent by Had'dah Enterprises, the company logo clearly visible on his chest. The other wore civilian clothes, working fatigues to be precise, the thief. If Saren didn't know any better, he would've taken him for a dock worker.

"You're being paid to steal and deliver," the security staff member replied as the Spectre pulled an unsuspecting guard into the shadows, breaking his neck with a powerful twist before slowly letting him sink to the floor. He only needed two people to survive this encounter, the two batarians talking with each other. The rest was expendable.

"I can't steal for you if my crew is being picked off one after another."

"When did this begin?" the security officer asked as Saren moved through the shadows, a quick purple pulse followed by a wet crunch marking the death of the sixth guard, the four eyed helmet, rounder proportions and smaller frame indicating that it was yet another female batarian. The number of guards was quickly decreasing.

"Months ago, we're the last one's left," the batarian said as he pointed at himself and his two companions. The last people on Saren's list of targets, conveniently gathered in one place. He couldn't possibly ask for more. He climbed up on the catwalk overlooking the six figures in the center and dispatched one of the two guards lingering above the storage by choking him until he stopped to struggle, taking care to refrain from spilling blood that could potentially drip down to the floor and alert his targets of his presence. He rested the guard against the railing of the catwalk and leveled his Carnifex on the head of the second batarian overlooking the meeting.

"You're being hunted," the other batarian replied. Saren did not like where this was going.

"Of course we're being hunted, one of our own got picked of two days ago" the thief replied. "It's why we contacted you. We need Had'dah to get us off of Jaxhi."

"About that," the batarian smirked, sharp fangs revealing themselves,"Had'dah Enterprises no longer requires your services. Edan Had'dah has opted to take a different approach to fulfill his plans. Your crew is no longer worth the risk it posses."

That sounded suspiciously like Saren would have to act sooner than he had hoped. He couldn't allow his piece of conclusive evidence to murder his target. He had to act now, the security officer was already reaching for his sidearm.

"Wha-" the surprised question was interrupted as Saren fired his Carnifex at the remaining guard of the catwalk, several round penetrating his barriers and causing the batarian's chest to burst open, forcing him to collapse in pain. Before the people on the ground could react and aim their weapons at the catwalk, the Spectre leaped over the railing, firing the heavy pistol at one of the two guards, taking out his shields before scoring a headshot in spite of falling towards the ground. Saren broke his fall through a roll and found himself between the two groups, a grey Terminator assault rifle being raised at him but the batarian was too were too slow.

Saren was surrounded by a purple glow before using his biotics to throw one of the two batarian thieves that had tagged along with their boss towards the remaining security guard, the ensuring collision throwing both of them to the ground and sending the grey rifle sliding across the floor of the warehouse. He smacked the heavy weapon in his hand against the head of the other batarian criminal, venting its heat-sink as the gun connected with the man's face and blinding the smuggler with a hot jet of air. Then he grabbed a hold of the thief, throwing him to the side and away from his line of fire before charging the high-ranking Had'dah Enterprises security officer.

He was a big guy and being batarian meant that he was somewhat stronger than most people but none of that mattered considering he was going up against a turian Spectre. To call it a fight would've been an insult to Saren. The exchange of blows ended two seconds after it had started, a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, a armored hand around his throat and a loaded Carnifex pointing at his head stopping Groto Ib-ba from putting up any more resistance.

"Who are you?" the security officer coughed through Saren's chokehold as the Spectre caught movement in the corner of his eye. The guard who he had incapacitated by throwing another batarian at him was trying to lift the criminal off himself to reach his sidearm. Two well-placed shots into his exposed, dark-red head stopping him from getting up ever again.

Saren didn't answer any further than that, instead forcing the batarian towards the direction of the thief he had reserved for questioning, seeing him make a run for it. Why he though he could escape was beyond the turian.

A single bullet tore past his head.

"I won't miss next time," Saren called through the room as the batarian raised his hands and turned around. "That's a promise."

"You fool," the injured batarian grunted as Saren threw him into one of the shelves, "You led him here!"

"That's true," Saren admitted. "Now I suggest you tell me about Had'dah's plans."

"In your dreams, turian," the batarian said as the Spectre leveled his Carnifex at him before turning his head towards the uninjured thief. He'd come back to this one.

"What did Had'dah Enterprises hire you to do," he asked, as he focused on the batarian's upper set of eyes. Saren's glare was sharp and aggressive, contrasting the visible fear on the thief's face. His tone combined with the fact that he had utterly destroyed the armed guards in a matter of moments working in his favour. He didn't need a lot of words or a beatdown to get this one to talk. He had already displayed how serious he was.

"Steal weapons from C-SEC to arm a group of batarians in the Lower Wards," his captive immediately replied.

"What for?" the Spectre asked.

"To attack the human and turian embassies," interesting. His guess had been an armed uprising, not a terroristic attack and up to now none of the thieves had known what exactly they were stealing for.

"Why?" Saren asked again, taking care to sound intimidating.

"I-I don't know," the Spectre turned his glare at the other batarian and prepared himself to change his interrogation tactics. This one wouldn't be as easy as the thief. He took a step towards him and considered his options but before he could act, the batarian sighed.

"I'm not getting paid enough for this," the batarian grunted as he set up a bit, "Had'dah hates them, your people and the humans. More so than any other man I've ever met," the injured batarian began. He took a look at the security officer sitting on the floor, both of his arms hanging from his shoulders, a bone fragment sticking out off one of them, his face already slightly paler than before. Maybe the pain had changed his mind. "Ever since his brother was killed, he's been plotting against them, funding slavers, arming radicals. He's lost his mind."

The last one peaked Saren's interest.

"He lost his mind?" the turian inquired."How?"

"Shortly after his brother was killed, he found something. I don't know what it is. No one does. But it changed him, changed his priorities," the batarian explained, "his company is being run by the board now. The only thing he cares about is his revenge. Instead of focusing on the business, he's spending his fortune on slavers, mercenaries and thieves."

"You said he no longer need the smugglers," Saren said as he nodded at the thief, "why?"

The batarian hesitated but as the turian Spectre came another step closer, he once more began to talk.

"He found another way to enact his revenge, sent some of us after a human but something didn't go according to his plan. I don't know any details I just know that things didn't go according to the plan and that he hired a krogan to clean things up."

"Who?"

"A bounty hunter that goes by the name of Skarr. Last I heard he was headed for Elysium," the batarian answered. "Whoever he's going after, you won't save them. They'll be dead long befo-"

Saren's left foot connecting with his head stopped Groto Ib-ba from talking. The Spectre had heard everything he needed to know and stopped his omni-tool from recording any further. He was almost done here.

He turned towards the batarian thief and considered his options. The man had stolen from C-SEC, was a smuggler and had probably broken all kinds of laws in his criminal career. He couldn't let him go and he couldn't afford the time to turn him in personally. The pragmatic choice would've been to put him down where he was standing. Saren was used to killing, it was part of his life. By all means he should put a round through the batarian's head and be done with him, just another casualty on his record.

But shooting an unarmed, terrified thief was wrong. This man was a criminal but he wasn't a slaver, this man wasn't a threat to others, this wasn't someone who had to die. Killing him wouldn't be justice, it would be murder.

Saren Arterius was a great deal of things. Turian, bareface, soldier, Cabal, Blackwatch operative and Spectre. His status meant that he wouldn't face any repercussion for most of his actions, he was above the law but he wasn't a murderer, not yet. There was still another option.

He pressed a button on his omni-tool, opening a prepared message to Phaed's police department, adding the fact that one suspect was conscious and waiting at the scene before sending it.

"The police will arrive shortly, don't run. Turn yourself in, pay for your crimes and never go down this road again," the Spectre spoke in a low voice as the typical turian flanging echoed alongside his order. "I'll know if you run. I'll come back for you and I won't show mercy again."

Without saying another word, Saren walked away from the carnage he had created in pursuit of his mission and stepped outside into the cold desert air. He climbed over the fence, walked behind the building he had used as an observation point and opened the door to the rented skycar, plotting a flight path to the hotel he had used as a base of operations to retrieve the rest of his gear. During the flight he already began gathering intel on Skarr, booking a trip to Elysium in the process.

His work was far from finished.


Two Days Earlier, 8. January 2396 AD, Citadel, HSA Embassy

Staff Lieutenant David Anderson had been alarmed when he had been informed of an attack on a research facility. He had been weary when the Hasting's captain had told him that HSA top-brass wanted nothing to get off of Sidon and he had been suspicious when there had been signs of fighting on the surface. After finding the base to be the site of a mass execution, mercenaries killing all but two of Sidon's staff, he had been angry and when Falk had stumbled, revealing a secret elevator in the process, he had been surprised. When his unit had been attacked by batarian mercenaries, he had fought under the influence of adrenaline and when a bomb threw him several meters through the air, he had survived the blast. Finally, when Rico had revealed that one of the missing staff members, Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders, had left mere hours before the distress signal had been activated, Anderson had began to question her role in it. He had been trained to know just what to do in all of these situations.

Now he was absolutely clueless what to do with the situation at hand.

After the Kodiaks had evacuated them from the freezing surface of Elysium's sister planet, the Hastings had received to orders to refuel before moving to the Citadel without further adue. Once docked to the space station, most of the ship's crew had been sent to shore leave. His N7 team had been asked to stay put. After a few hours, the captain had informed David that someone at the embassy had summoned him for a detailed debrief.

Now that someone had arrived.

"Good morning, Staff Lieutenant ," the human ambassador on the Citadel, Anita Goyle, smiled as she walked into the room. Her appearance reminded him of Kahlee Sanders, the alleged traitor. Blonde hair, blue eyes, by all means attractive. She was the woman who had negotiated the terms of the HSA's associate status with the Citadel Council and some voices already spoke of her a worthy successor for the current chancellor. She was still a politician, David Anderson was always weary of politicians. Most of the times their smiles disguised another agenda.

"Good morning, Ambassador Goyle," he replied as he got up from the chair before saluting.

"I've heard a lot of things about you," the ambassador admitted as she went to shake his hand.

"You did?" Anderson asked confused. There was little to no reason as to why a diplomat would read through his file.

"We'll get to that later," she smiled once more, leaving him hanging. This was off to a great start. "Sit down," she gestured for the chair he had just abandoned as she sat down at her desk, the window behind her revealing the Presidium in all of its glory. "Your mission on Sidon, tell me about it," the woman asked as she looked at her terminal, most likely reading along the report to make sure he didn't skip over any details.

"We received a distress signal originating from the facility and on the orders of the captain I led a team of N7s onto the surface while he purged the logs of the encounter, as it was ordered by top-brass," the dark-skinned man explained. "Once we touched down on Sidon, we investigated the facility, initially finding no signs of forced entry which lead us to believe that the attackers, who turned out to be batarian mercenaries, somehow received access to the lab's security systems, allowing them to infiltrate the dome. We continued inside, encountering no signs of fighting until we found the corpses of the security team."

"Who were 'blitzed?" Goyle raised an eyebrow at the term.

"Taken by surprise and overpowered by a quick, brutal and precise attack," the N7 clarified. "They never got the chance of fighting back, didn't fire a single round," Anderson sighed as he continued to recount the events. "After that we entered the main laboratory, where-"

"Where you found most of the staff massacred, barring two exceptions. The head of the facility, Doctor Qian, and Lieutenant Sanders, a naval officer attached to the technical staff," Goyle hijacked his report. "Then you stumbled upon the entry of a secret laboratory below the research dome where you engaged the batarian mercenaries, one of which set off a detonation you barely escaped from. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Lieutenant Anderson," Goyle began, "I'll be upfront with you."

That peaked the N7's interest. He usually disliked politicians because they were anything but upfront.

"The sublevel you found was conducting research in a highly illegal field. Artificial intelligence," Goyle admitted as Anderson realised just how damaging this could be to the HSA. Ever since the Geth had been unleashed on the galaxy, AIs had been outlawed in Council Space. If humanity broke that law and word about it would reach the Citadel Council, the consequences would be severe. "Now we are faced with the very real possibility that one of the people involved with the program will reveal just what they were doing on Sidon to the rest of the galaxy.

The ambassador paused for a moment.

"Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders left the base three hours before it was attacked and the head of the project remains missing. Either she betrayed the HSA, told the mercenaries what to look for and made a run for it or maybe she just barely escaped with her life for unknown reasons. We don't know yet," The first idea wasn't exactly new to Anderson. Master Chief Rico had already voiced his concerns that Sanders, who had departed from Sidon without proper authorization shortly before the distress signal had been activated, was the insider who had assisted the attackers by granting them access to the research facility. However the notion that the missing Lieutenant had survived for another reason was something he hadn't heard before. "But we do know that she's somewhere in New Illyria and right now she's may be the only person to know what happened on Sidon. You'll be send to retrieve her."

Anderson did well to hide his surprise. This didn't feel like the type of mission given to an N7. It felt like the type of mission Section 13 would receive. Yet orders were still orders. He wouldn't question the reasons for being picked to complete it. He would simply do his hardest to ensure its success.

"What about Qian?" Anderson asked. While the evidence was stacked against Sanders, the head of the research program was missing as well and he needed to figure out if he was supposed to find him as well. "Maybe they worked together. Am I going to be sent after him as well?"

"Someone else is taking care of Doctor Shu Qian, your priority is Lieutenant Sanders," Anita Goyle replied, avoiding to name the 'someone else'.

"Understood," the N7 said as he prepared to get up before a question lingering in his head urged him to stay seated. "Why me?"

"I told you that I've heard of you before, haven't I?" the woman reminded him.

"Yes, but you didn't explain how," the N7 replied as leaned forward, resting his arms on the ambassador's desk.

"Then allow me to," Goyle began. "You are one of several N7 and ASOC operatives who have been listed as potential candidates to try out for the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel Council," she explained, "as the human ambassador on the Citadel, I was part of the committee tasked with finding a suitable, final candidate. You're still in consideration."

"So this is some sort of test then." Anderson reasoned. "You're putting me on this to figure out if I'm your final candidate."

"Yes and no. The more people we pull into this matter, the more likely it is that words gets out," the ambassador said. "While this assignment will certainly be considered once we pick a final candidate, we wouldn't put something as important as this on you simply for the sake of testing you. We're sending you after Sanders because we need to limit the number of people who know of this event and you're qualified for her retrieval."

He understood the concept. The more people knew of a secret, the more likely it was that someone who couldn't keep quiet was involved. Why the HSA didn't put Section 13 on the job was not Anderson's place to question. He'd do as he was told to.

"Your gear has been moved to the Iwo Jima, she'll take you to Elysium once you're done here."

"A stealth frigate?" Anderson asked confused. The Iwo Jima was one of the two long-range reconnaissance vessels of the navy, capable of traveling with a very low profile. The crews of these two crafts were notorious for their ability to keep their mouth shut. It made sense that they'd be put to the task. They didn't ask many questions and could get the job done without drawing more than the bare minimum of attention.

"She's docked in Bay D24. You'll travel to Elysium under the guise of shore leave and locate Lieutenant Sanders. Once you find her, bring her back to the Citadel," Goyle ordered.

"What about my squad?" he said as he noticed that the blonde woman had yet to mention any other N7s.

"The less people we sent, the lower the profile."

"So I'm going in alone then?" Anderson asked. He didn't like the idea of a one-man operation. As an N7 he was used to being part of a team.

"I'm afraid so," Goyle smiled. "The Iwo Jima is waiting for you, Lieutenant Anderson. You're dismissed. Good luck."

Anderson nodded and got up. Duty called and he'd answer even if he didn't like the terms.


Early 2138 CE, Elysium, Outskirts of New Illyria

Locating Skarr on the human colony had been rather easy. Granted finding a krogan wasn't exactly hard if one knew where to look, places selling hard alcohol in rough neigbourhoods were always good points to start. The large, red-plated bounty hunter, who was big even by krogan standards, towered over the bar as he downed another one of the human beverages, unimpressed by its effect but blissfully unaware of the Spectre following his every step. The trip had given him enough time to read up on Skarr and Saren exactly hadn't been happy with what he had found out about the krogan.

Skarr had been exiled by his own clan after murdering a scouting party in a fit of rage, a krogan deemed so violent that even other krogan considered him too unhinged to be kept around was always bad news. Adding to this worrying fact came the number of contracts Skarr had failed to complete in his three decades of activity, none. The bounty hunter had a seemingly perfect track records. Whether it came from his abilities, his persistency or the fact that he only ever took on jobs he knew he could complete without difficulty wasn't something Saren could judge at the moment and if it was up to the turian, Skarr wouldn't get the chance to proof his abilities.

If it was up to Saren he would end it right here. The krogan was distracted and unarmed and as a Spectre he could simply walk up to him, put a hole in his head and walk away.

The Carnifex on Saren's hip was the descendent of a design first used during the Krogan Rebellions. The pistol's ancestor had been issued to turian soldiers to give them a sidearm that could actually kill a krogan and as such a series of shots from the heavy pistol would put an end to the unsuspecting Skarr, the firepower of the gun would ensure that neither his barriers nor any hidden shields could save him when his time came.

But he wouldn't do it yet since the Spectre needed Skarr to lead him to whoever he was after. It was the fastest way to find out who Edan Had'dah wanted to silence and as such who could give Saren a hand in ruining the batarian aristocrat's plan. The patient hunter succeeded, that's what Blackwatch thought him, and as such he'd be patient. He kept his eyes on Skarr as the krogan paid for his drinks before rising from the chair, a small purple field dispersing from underneath him explaining just how the little wooden object had managed to stand up to the massive reptile's weight.

As Skarr walked through a less crowded part of the bar, Saren spotted the outlines of a small metal dagger stuffed into the krogan's brown pants. The knife was hidden inside the armor-like fabric krogan wore as casual wear, its thick cloth doing well to disguise the knife's shape to most observers. Considering the small size of the blade, Saren figured that Skarr had either bought it on Elysium, stolen it from a local criminal or smuggled it through the spaceport security in one way or another. Apparently the krogan biotic hadn't been comfortable with abandoning all of his weapons. While Saren himself had been able to walk through the checkpoint in full gear thanks to his Spectre status, Skarr had to arrive seemingly unarmed and unarmored or risk clashing with the military personal manning the spaceport. He would have to keep his distance if possible. A normal krogan in close quarters was dangerous enough, an armed and biotic one was a challenge Saren would've liked to avoid unless pushed into a corner.

Skarr walked out of the bar he had called his home for the last hour and the Spectre followed him with some distance as the two headed away from the busier parts of the town. He knew that Skarr hadn't completed his contract yet, there had been no reports of a violent murder in the time he had gotten here and if his research had indicated anything it was that Skarr always turned his bounties into a violent murder eventually.

After walking for some time Saren trailed the krogan into a residential area, the lack of a crowd forcing the turian to give the bounty hunter more space. There was hardly any cover out here and the only thing Skarr needed to do in order to spot him was to turn around. As such he allowed the krogan a few minutes of a head start, stalking him from a series of hills located opposite to the road he was walking along.

Then the krogan took a sharp turn, vanishing behind a series of trees.

He couldn't have spotted Saren, could he? No. The krogan hadn't turned around once ever since they had left the bar. There was no way he could've made him. Something else had caused Skarr to dive into the small forest.

From his position in the hills the Spectre waited for the krogan to appear again and soon enough he saw the hulking reptile climb into the backyard of a relatively big property. A white house was occupying roughly a fourth of the fenced area and considering its size, it belonged to a rather rich person. Yet it also looked decisively empty. No lights were turned on and no cars were parked in its drive way. He saw the krogan walk towards a backdoor, moving surprisingly stealthy given his size. Then the krogan forced open the backdoor and Saren waited for a moment, questions rushing through his mind.

Was Skarr planning on waiting for his target to arrive?

Was he going to break his pattern of simply murdering whoever he was sent after in a brutal fashion and work on a stealthier approach?

Was this even the house of the target or was it the bounty hunters hideout?

All of those questions turned irrelevant as Saren heard gunshots echo from within the building, causing him to sprint towards it, pulling his trusty Phaeston from his back as he took a running jump over the fence and towards the property, light now shining through one of the windows as pistol fire became audible to the Spectre.

Property damage was better than dying.

The Spectre pushed his feet off the ground and found himself crashing through the window, throwing shards glass through the room in the process, Skarr's back turned towards him.


Forty Minutes Earlier, 10. January 2396 AD, Elysium, Outskirts of New Illyria

David Anderson stood in front of the big, white house and looked around himself. It was a peaceful neighbourhood, the kind of home he wished he had grown up in. It was nothing like the apartment in the London metropolitan area that had served as his childhood home. It was quiet, roomy and silent. It was the kind of place he had envisioned for himself and his soon to be ex-wife Cynthia, he had always pictured them retiring to a colony world with lots of space once he got out of N7. The fact that she wanted to divorce because he was hardly around had torched all those plans. There was no point in a big house if there was no one to share it with.

He had received a report that pinpointed Sanders location to this home and as he looked at the doorbell, a somewhat beaten plastic shield spelling out her last name, he understood why they believed she'd be here. When pushed into a corner people tended to go to places they were familiar with. A childhood home was such a place. Anderson opted for the polite approach, at least as polite as an onyx black, armored military officer standing on front of your door in the dead of night could appear.

He rang the doorbell and then he waited.

A minute later the door creaked open to reveal an eldery woman standing in the door way. Her blonde hair was already greying and her blue eyes had aged but the resemblance to the person he was trying to locate was there. Sanders most certainly looked like a younger version of this person.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he began politely. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, you're not. How can I help you?" the woman asked, seemingly unimpressed by his getup. If she had lived through the martial law of Elysium, she was used to people in combat gear walking around these streets.

"My name is Staff Lieutenant David Anderson, I'm looking for Kahlee Sanders."

"Well, you came to the wrong place then. She's not here," the woman muttered. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Can I come in for a moment, if it's not too much of a hassle?" Anderson wasn't quite convinced of that just yet. He'd take a look around.

She hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the doorway. "Of course. Can't have you standing outside at this time of the day. Come in."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

As he walked into the house he notice several pictures hanging on the wall, some of them dating back to before the Fringe Wars, a happy family of three smiling at the camera, the white house visible in the background. One person was obviously the woman in front of him, the other a blonde man with piercing blue eyes and the third a young girl, most likely their daughter, sharing the features of her parents.

The Lieutenant took an educated guess.

"Are you Kahlee's mother?"

"What gave me away? Was it the name on the doorbell?" the woman joked. "Or perhaps the pictures?"

Anderson smiled before he came to a halt in the hall between the living room and the doorway as he spotted a framed medal sitting on a small table next to an electric candle and a framed picture. It's red and green band was connected to a golden star that depicted the HSA's sigil and motto, a golden eagle protectively folding his wings around an empty globe with two words, a promise, engraved below it.

A Star of Valour.

The highest commendation any member of the HSA's armed forces and HSAIS could be bestowed with. It was awarded for couragous and distinguished service in face of insurmountable odds, only a handful of them had ever been awarded outside of the Fringe Wars and even the biggest conflict in human history had only managed to produce a couple of hundred, mostly posthumous, recipients. As he looked at the picture of a bald man, it dawned on him.

"Jon Grissom," he spoke. "He was your husband?"

"Yes."

"And Kahlee's father?"

"Obviously," the woman said with a tone of sadness in her voice. Anderson hated to open an old wound but he had to know.

"Why not take his last name?"

"He knew it may make us a target," the woman said. "Given how famous he got after he died, he was right."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ma'am," he knew he was over a decade late but it was still basic courtesy.

"Don't be. You played no part in his death. He died fighting for what he believed," she spoke in a sad demeanor, "that's more than most people can claim."

He nodded respectfully.

"Why are you looking for my daughter?" she asked.

"She might be in danger," it wasn't technically a lie. At least that's what he told himself to keep his conscious clean. "I'm looking for her to make sure nothing happens to her."

"She came by a few days ago," the woman admitted. "Said someone would come looking for her. I told her to head for the Terminus, away from HSA territories and whoever was hunting her. The obscurity of the region is the best deterrent you can ask for. It's a fantastic place to disappear to."

If she made it to the Terminus, they'd never find her. Yet Anderson still had the feeling that the woman wasn't telling the whole truth.

"That's strange advice coming from a mother," Anderson noted. "Sounds more like the thing you'd tell a spy on the run."

"How do you think I met Jon?" the woman chuckled. "I spent years of my life as a threat analyst for HSAIS."

That explained the advice she had given to Kahlee.

It also explained the glint of the silver commendation for exemplary service for one 'Rosemary Sanders' hanging on the wall above the small, makeshift shrine dedicated to Jon Grissom.

"If there's nothing else, Lieutenant, I'd like to go to bed now," the woman spoke. "It's been a long day."

"Of course," Anderson's mouth said while his gut told him to hang around. He'd find a place to hunker down. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Sanders."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry you didn't find what you were looking for," the woman said as she let him to the door. "I suggest you let it go. Have a good night, Lieutenant Anderson."

"You too."

The door closed itself and Anderson scanned his surroundings again. The property was large and surrounded by several hills, one other house on its eastern side and a large wall of tress in the north and west.

The forest would do.

He saw the lights turn off in the Sanders residence and jogged towards the woods that would serve as his home for the time being. His gut told him to stay and listening to his gut had allowed him to survive well over a decade of N7 service. The special forces officer found a spot overlooking both the front entry and the backside of the property before lying down, waiting and watching as the minutes blended together. He forced himself to stay focus, look for a little sign that would betray Lieutenant Sanders presence in the building, a flicker of light betraying another silhouette, the faint sound of two voices, anything that would give him a reason to come back.

Then he noticed a big, obviously krogan form walking on the road behind the backside of the property. When the reptile made the faintest step into the direction of the Sanders house, it wasn't what he had looked for but it got him moving either way. Krogan were usually bad news. As he got moving, he saw the figure trespass into the yard behind the white building.

He rushed across the empty street as he banged against the front door, frantically knocking against it until he could no longer afford politeness. Anderson threw himself against the wooden door and found it to be surprisingly sturdy, forcing him to repeatedly bang his shoulder into it before it broke out of the frame.

Then he heard another door being closed in the back of the house while footsteps hit the ceiling above him before a woman with a SIS-8 in her hand running down the stairs and looking at him in a mix of anger and confusion.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as Anderson ignored her, a red-plated krogan suddenly appearing in front of him, a murderous smile on his face. He raised his Kassa Fabrication M-83 and began to squeeze the trigger, but he didn't have enough time. The bullets were deflected by a purple field and he felt himself smashed aside, several gunshots and the nasty sound of a blade cutting through flesh hitting his ears before he even hit the ground. That krogan was fast.

'Get up,' a voice ordered him as he grabbed his own pistol, firing bullets in the krogan's back. The reptile was now holding Mrs. Sanders by her throat, a cut running down her dominant arm and a pistol lying on the stairway. His actions achieved nothing but a glare from the krogan who dropped the woman to the ground before turning around, a small blade in his hand.

"Heh. You first then," the red-plated reptile grunted as he shrugged of the pistol bullets through the use of biotics. He was about to grab Anderson when the sound of glass shattering and a white, purple blur rushing through the corridor behind him caught his attention.

What happened next was best described as an incredibly quick, incredibly brutal clash of two impressive forces.

In a matter of seconds a turian in white armor smashed into the krogan, firing an assault rifle at him from point blank range all the while glowing with biotics as his armored talon pushed the surprised krogan into the wall. His white face was the embodiment of fury and as the krogan forced the turian off himself, causing Anderson's saviour to lose grip of his assault rifle, the white figure pulled a boxy pistol from his hip before leveling its barrel at the krogan's head. The red-plated reptile only barely managed to save himself from a fatal headshot by smacking the gun aside moments before the turian managed to pull the trigger, causing the round to graze his face. He slashed at the turian with his knife before launching the white-armored figure into the opposing wall, while a stream of orange blood rushed trickled the krogan's face.

Looking at the blue blood dripping from the turian's mouth, Anderson lost hope. He was probably a goner. That blow had been powerful, the turian should've been dead.

But he wasn't. The biotic attack didn't stop him, it made him even angrier. From his position inside the wall, he thrusted his hand at the krogan as purple ripples threw the reptile back, giving him enough time to grab the pistol, a series of gunshots following this action as rounds began hitting the krogan's chest with deadly accuracy. The turian got up as he kept firing until a backhanded blow forced him to duck. Using this moment, the krogan followed his punch up with a hefty kick to the turian's white chest, a kick that once more sent their unexpected ally flying into the wall. The N7 stumbled to his feet and tried to get a shot at the krogan in an attempt to draw his attention away from the turian and give him some time to get up but before he could do that, he saw something he hadn't expected to see in his lifetime.

A krogan running away from a fight.

Instead of opting to fight the turian who was already on his feet again, the toad-like creature surrounded himself with a purple field as he turned his back to them. He launched himself into a sprint as orange blood stained the floor in his wake. Anderson chose to exploit the situation and began to fire his pistol into the assailant's back before he vanished into the darkness, a painful grunt following several of his rounds as they hit their mark.

"The woman," the turian groaned at him as he reached for Anderson's weapon, causing the N7 to stop shooting.. "Take care of the woman."

"I'm fine," Rosemary Sanders replied from the stairs before he could even reach for his medical supplies. An empty syringe of medigel fell to the floor as both Anderson and the turian turned towards her. The woman had been prepared. "Who the hell was that?"

"Skarr," the turian answered. "Krogan bounty hunter. He's after you.""

"He's not after her," Anderson said, causing the turian to look at him.

"Then why would he come here?"

"He's after me," a voice coming from the stairway declared.

As Anderson looked up he spotted Kahlee Sanders. His gut had once more been right.

"You'll have to leave, Skarr will come back for you," the flanging voice of the white turian explained as he looked at the new arrival. "I can help you get of this world but first you have to tell me why he was after you."

"I don't even know who you are," Sanders replied as she walked down the stairs, exchanging a look with her mother.

"Saren Arterius," the turian introduced himself as he folded his assault rifle and locked it in place on his back, groaning in the process, "Agent of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel Council."

"Lieutenant Sanders," Anderson said as he stepped next to Saren, he didn't even want to know why a Spectre was on Elysium but he wouldn't let him pull his target from underneath him. "My name is Staff Lieutenant David Anderson, I'm with N7 and Ambassador Goyle ordered me to bring you in."

"I figured," the blonde woman replied as she walked down the stairs. "You're here because you want to know what happened on Sidon."

Anderson nodded. "You have to come with me. Right now."

"She has to come with me," the Spectre challenged Anderson as he rolled his shoulders. "For her own safety."

"She's a human and falls under HSA jurisdiction," David began, a painful stinging in his own shoulder becoming evident to him as Saren's movements reminded him of his own injuries. "She's coming with me."

"As a Spectre, I'm above jurisdiction," Saren countered in an insisting tone. "She's coming with me."

"I can't let her go with you," Anderson said as he stepped closer to the turian. Spectre or not, he couldn't let Sanders leave. Even if it meant going blow for blow with the turian.

"You will have to," the Spectre grunted as he too took a step towards Anderson, causing both of them to clutch their fists, tension rising in the room.

"Before you knuckleheads go for each others throats," Kahlee injected, causing them to turn towards her as she picked up one of the pictures that had fallen from the wall while inspecting its frame, "why don't you stop for a minute and figure out where you want to take me in the first place. Your answers might surprise you."

"The Citadel," both Saren and Anderson spoke in unison before looking at each other in surprise. In retrospective it had been obvious, at least to Anderson himself. Of course a Spectre would bring her to the Citadel and if Goyle had sent him to retrieve her, it was obvious where he'd take her. The fight must've knocked the sense out of both himself and the Spectre, luckily Sanders had talked it back into them.

"Next time try finding common ground before you beat up your allies," Kahlee sighed as she picked up the broken frame of Grissom's picture before making her way towards the stairs. "I'll grab my stuff and we can head out."

"You should stay here Kahlee," her mother argued as she grabbed a hold of her daughter's wrist on her way up.

"I'm not going to put you into the line of fire again, mom. It's best if you go someplace else for the time being."

"I can take care of myself, Kahlee."

"Mom, please, this is my choice," the lieutenant spoke, causing her mother to let go of her wrist before she once more walked up the stairs. "I'll be right down," she called on her way up. "Please, don't break anything else while I'm gone."

"Apologies for destroying your wall," the turian turned towards the older Sanders as they waited, looking as embarrassed as his current situation allowed him to, "and your window. And your pictures."

"The door was open," the woman sighed as she pinched her nose. "Did you even try to see if it was open?"

"There was no time," Saren replied in an awkward tone. "I'll take care of any repai-"

"I'm just messing with you," she chuckled in spite of the situation. "I think we all owe you for saving us from Skarr," she said as she looked at Anderson.

He knew what this was. It was his opportunity to put an end to the beginning hostilities between himself and the turian.

He took it.

"She's right. Thank you," he said as he extended a hand to the turian. Time to burry the emerging hatchet before it did any harm.

"There is no need to thank me for doing my job," the Spectre grabbed a hold of the onyx glove, his own white armor standing in stark contrast to the material of Anderson's protective gear. It was almost poetic.

"I'm ready," the younger Sanders said as she came down again, a bag slung over her shoulder. "How are we getting to the Citadel?" she said as she looked at the two.

"Need a lift to the Citadel?" Anderson smirked at Saren.


Codex: Artificial Intelligence Ban

Before the Geth War AIs had played an important role in everyday life. Much more capable than the virtual intelligence programs, VIs, in use today, they influenced all walks of life by taking on administrative duties, assisting militaries, conducting research and operating entire mining operations. They were incredibly beneficial to the galactic community and widely appreciated.

In most cases at least.

Virtually every civilization has experienced at least one nearly catastrophic event caused by a rogue AI. Whether the case of Tallaris, an AI that forced the Asari Republics to destroy an entire developing colony shorty before the Rachni Wars, an artificial intelligence created by the Vol Protectorate hijacking the communication network of an entire colony before overloading its power grid, only being stopped from injecting itself into the galactic financial market by another, sane AI, or a salarian program sending billions of friend invites across social networks of the extranet while attempting to ram a cruiser into the Presidium Ring, there had always been concerns that synthetic and organic life struggled to coexist due to their vastly different nature.

These concerns had largely been dismissed as rare exceptions until the Geth War had resulted in the quarian mass exodus of Rannoch, setting of a series of events fueled by fear that resulted in a decision that would change the course of galactic history forever.

Enacted in 1896 CE, the same year the Migrant Fleet launched of their home world, surrendering Rannoch to their own creation, the Citadel Council reacted to the threat posed by artificial intelligence in the harshest of ways. While the Geth Consensus hadn't been the first case of an Artificial intelligence turning against a creator, it had been the by far most severe one. Cases such as Tallaris had been mere drops filling a barrel of concern, the death of billions of quarian citizens at the hands of an AI rebellion had been a tidal wave of blood, crushing the barrel without mercy.

Following the ban, AIs across Council Space were shut down in what artificial intelligence advocates call a 'synthetic genocide of unparalleled scale'.

The races of the galaxy were plunged into an administrative nightmare as the replacement VIs failed to perform the duties of their now 'dead', more sophisticated brethren. This crisis would last until 1898 CE when enough virtual programs had been produced to carry the massive workload left in the wake of the AI ban.

The ban however included an exception. Selected research institutes and corporations, nowadays numbering at four, were licensed to develop and use AIs for research purposes. This was done due to the fact that no VI could ever fill the role AIs had taken in the scientific community.

Furthermore the ban did not simply blink AIs out of existence. Throughout the centuries since their ban, dozens of AIs have been discovered in Council Space and their creators have faced fines, prison time or lifetime exclusion out of their respective communities. The ban failed to purge the idea of creating an AI from galactic society and while not confirmed, it is believed that many groups keep tinkering with experimental artificial intelligences due to the potential they hold.


A/N: Chapter 26. Exactly seven days after the last one. I really wanted to get it out yesterday but it kind of didn't work ( by that I mean I was a lazy fuck and only started writing on thursday).

Now my aim is to get to chapter 30 by July, which as you may recall is the month I'm shipping out to basic training. If you didn't recall, here's the reminder, I'm starting basic training in July which of course means that updates are gonna go down the drain from there on. I'll try to get as much done before that as I can and as of right now I've completed my list of Semper Vigilo's basic story line and important plotpoints and looking over them I realised something...

This thing here is gonna take a reaaaaly long time and if I manage to get what's in my head on the paper, it's gonna be pretty dope.

Back to my Chapter 26 troubles.

Given the fact that Section 13 is a thing in Semper Vigilo, I had a reaaaly hard time coming up with a reason why the hell they'd sent an N7 to do their work but I've got one, stay tuned and you'll see. I think it makes as much sense as it can really. Revelation, since I never read the book, is going to be somewhat harder to write than the rest but I think I got the hardest part done.

So. Let me know what you think, personally this isn't exactly my favorite chapter but I couldn't just skip over it. So yeaaah... I know it's not bad, I just don't think it's good but as I said, we had to do it. Hopefully you enjoyed.

For the record we're at 193 Reviews, 392 favorites and 477 follows. I'd really like to break 400 favorites and 500 follows before July, if that happens remains to be seen.

Now give me my review fix. I need it, that's my poison and you know it.

See you around next time.