Chapter 28. Workplace Safety


Early 2138 CE, Camala, Ujon

Camala's capital looked nothing like the typical batarian mining colony. Instead of being made up of dirty, mostly brownish, raw prefab complexes stacked on top of each other in polluted, dirty environments, Ujon looked like it had been cut out of a batarian propaganda poster. The idealized style of architecture depicted by propaganda images of the rich, secluded communities of the higher caste on the surface of Khar'shan had come to life on the desert planet but unlike the secretive planet which outsiders were forbidden to visit, Ujon actually lacked the low caste slums that sprawled large regions of the batarian home world. This lead Saren to believe that the slaves working on Camala were housed somewhere else. He just didn't know where. Clean, colorful buildings with circular roofs reached into the sky as the wealthy population of Ujon enjoyed the surprisingly mild day while he and Anderson watched Sanders from a distance. The lieutenant had placed herself in as public of a place as possible to keep Skarr from killing her on the spot while Anderson and he himself had taken shelter in a construction site across the street, observing Sanders as she sat in the shade provided by a large, red canopy, drinking the beverage provided by the restaurant as she waited for the arrival of their target or rather her hunter, ignoring the batarians outright staring at her.

Saren rested his Mantis against the edge of the as of now still windowless opening in the facade of the building as the plastic sheath covering most of the opening moved with the wind, giving him a slightly bigger field of vision. To his left a human form with an assault rifle lay still on the ground of the unfinished office building, looking down to the street out of an equally unfinished balcony as the sun slowly crept closer to the soldier with each minute that passed. Soon it would vanish behind one of the bigger business complexes of Ujon, removing the need for his helmet to filter out the additional brightness. They had been here for a bit over three hours, having leaked word about Sanders whereabouts yesterday morning to give Had'dah and Qian enough time to react and call in Skarr. As far as they should be concerned, Sanders had figured that hiding in plain sight was her best option and the fact that Skarr never managed to lay his eyes on her on Elysium would give weight to that claim. At least in the Spectre's eyes.

"Not a sign of Skarr," he heard a whisper coming from the human as Saren scanned Sander's surroundings with his own rifle, noting the absence of any krogan.

"Not private security either," he observed. "At least not uniformed."

"The salarian on her right keeps looking around himself."

"Probably a corporate spy," Saren replied. "Camala and industrial espionage go hand in hand. If not for the fact that they admit to using slave labour, they might as well be a second Illium."

"Gotta give it to the batarians, they don't hide behind the excuse of shady working contracts. They admit to being slaving scumbags," Anderson observed.

"Worse, they carry that title with pride," Saren added to the N7's observation. While the majority human idioms did not make sense for turians, scumbags were a nearly universal concept across the galactic community and might even be an understatement when applied to these people.

The two soldiers lapsed into silence again as they kept their eyes on Sanders and the knowledge that Saren might have to keep Anderson from acting prematurely once more began to weight on the turian's mind but the fact that stopping Had'dah was still priority remained. He didn't know what the batarian aristocrat planned with the help of the human doctor but he knew that they would never get close to either of them if Anderson jumped the gun the moment Skarr appeared to take the bait.

"I got a krogan, walking towards the canopy from a corporate transport. Blue armor, red plates."

The moment of truth.

He moved his scope through the crowd and his finger began to creep towards the location Anderson had called out. His Mantis' rounds could tear through most barriers and armor with ease and if push came to shove, they might even mortally injure a krogan given one aimed for the right spot, a skill he possessed. If this was Skarr and he would show any intent of simply killing Sanders, he trusted his rifle to put the bounty hunter down. He spotted the dark blue boots of a krogan suit of armor and his sight wandered up to the face of the reptile, a red headplate and beige skin coming into view.

It was Skarr and he certainly looked like he came to fight.

Not only was he carrying at least an assault rifle and a shotgun on his back, no he had also taken a page out of Saren's own armory, the service pistol of a turian soldier clearly visible on the krogan's hip. From whom he had stolen it didn't matter, he wouldn't have it much longer.

"Stay calm," he told his partner in preparation for what would come next as he heard the safety flick off of the human rifle he was carrying. "Only shoot if he makes a move to kill her. If you fire now, Qian will slip away forever," he added as Skarr walked towards Sanders who simply set her drink on the table as she spotted him. He didn't expect her to be this calm. Sure, she had volunteered to be the bait but even he would have some sort of reaction if the largest krogan he had ever encountered would walk straight towards him. She didn't even flinch.

"He definitely saw her," Anderson muttered.

"Good," Saren replied.

"We have different interpretations of the word good."

"If he saw her and hasn't shot her yet, it means that he'll take her somewhere. Probably to our targets."

"Fine enough. He's underneath the canopy," the N7 said as Saren kept his scope aligned with the krogan's head. One wrong move and Ujon's soil would be stained orange.

The people around Sanders were now realising that something was about to go down, members of several species getting up from their tables around the woman as the krogan stomped towards her, throwing a table that had been in his way to the side and scattering food, which was probably worth more than some of his own weapons, across the floor. Sanders, for the sake of making it seem like she wanted to evade capture, played along. She rose from her chair and put on a fearful expression as she faked an escape attempt, clumsly tripping over a table as a part of her performance. This move, while embarrassing, had been deliberate to give Skarr an excuse to close the distance between him and Sanders and now the large reptile loomed over the woman, who looked very much like a child compared to the bounty hunter. The krogan bent down, reached out and soon his left hand was closing around her throat. Then Skarr proceeded to pick her up as if she weighed nothing before lifting her to his eye level, a growl from his left following the action.

"He's choking her," Anderson urged him once more. "Take the shot."

"Not yet," this was the point where their different views on keeping Sanders as safe as possible would clash and he knew it. He split his focus, one part of his mind still ready to make the shot at a moments notice while the other began to construct his attempt at convincing the N7 from doing something that would jeopardize the mission. "If I shoot Skarr now, his hand will jerk and close, it would crush her windpipe."

It wasn't technically a lie, it was merely a very unlikely scenario that might play out in one out of every twenty cases. If he was entirely honest, a shot from his rifle would most likely cause Skarr to drop dead the moment its round would explode inside his skull.

"I thought you said you could take him down in one shot," Anderson muttered.

"I can't stop basic krogan biology," he replied before sighing in relief as the krogan dropped Sanders back to her feet, grabbing a hold of her collarbone to produce a painful expression on her face before leading her towards the vehicle. He pushed her inside as he made a move for the driver's seat Saren withdrew the rifle from the unfinished window before folding it and storing it on his back, reaching out for the human on the ground. "Let's get moving, the moment Skarr lands, there's no guarantee for her safety."

The N7 nodded as he grabbed a hold of the turian's hand, pulling himself to his feet. The two made their way to the partially painted stairway as Saren looked at his omni-tool. "Her tracker is working, they are moving away from Ujon," he informed Anderson as the two shot through the backdoor of the unfinished building and towards the wheeled dust buggy they had 'borrowed' from a couple of corporate security forces, Anderson jumping behind the wheel as the Spectre climbed into the seat next to him, strapping himself in.

"Head north," he instructed as the wheels began to move, throwing up clouds of sand as the N7 stepped on the gas. While a normal skycar would not have managed to outrun their own means of transportation, Saren had recognized the craft Skarr had used as the same model employed by C-SEC and as such their speed was warranted. The krogan's car lacked the speed limiter built into regular X3Ms to avoid deadly collisions, instead giving the pilot the ability to accelerate the small shuttles to speeds akin to military craft and opting for a kinetic barrier and a skilled driver to safeguard any occupants in case of a crash. It was far more expensive than the civilian craft found on more developed worlds but a rich company like Had'dah Enterprises could probably afford an entire fleet of them. They raced through the streets as his omni-tool informed him of the increasing distance between themselves and Skarr, every turn they had to take forcing them to slow down just a bit yet giving the krogan even more time to get further away from them. As they cleared the last corner of the city and Saren's eyes spotted the empty landscape in front of them he knew that this disadvantage was now over.

"He's heading further into the desert," Saren said as the dust buggy tore through the sandy dunes, lifting of the ground after clearing a rather large one and only its suspension keeping them from being roughed up by the landing. "The only thing out there are refineries," he said as he felt his body shake at the hands of yet another involuntary jump after the buggy had flown through the air for far longer than he was comfortable with. In the distance he could already see the towers of an Element Zero refinery and a small glinting in the sky betrayed Skarr's skycar as the sun reflected of its canopy at the right angle during yet another short, airborne phase of their pursuit.

"There he is," he heard Anderson say as the man's grip on the steering wheel tightened upon impact with the ground, sand flying up behind their buggy as a cloud of dust once more began to form behind them.

"Had'dah and Qian are probably in there," Saren figured as he saw the glinting form descend towards the large industrial complex, only a single dune and small stretch of open desert separating the buggy from its outer perimeter. Unlike most of the capitol, this facility would be well protected, a fact the N7 should also realise, a fact that should cause him to slow down.

Should.

Instead the vehicle began to accelerate even more.

"Spirits, slow down," Saren urged as he realised the N7's intend, a fragile looking fenced gate growing closer as he prepared himself for the inevitable impact. A couple of guards were already running towards the entry, lifting their rifles upwards. Anderson simply pressed the gas pedal as close to the floor as possible. Were all humans such crazy drivers?

"If we slow down, Sanders is dead," Anderson said as he turned towards him.

He had a point, Saren didn't like where that point would take them or rather where it would go through, namely the fence, but it was still there none the less. He had promised to keep Sanders safe and now he'd fullfill that promise. The Spectre nodded his approval moments before the dust buggy tore through the barricade, mass accelerator rounds flying past them as they crashed into one of the guards that had wandered to close to their point of entry, his armor allowing him to survive the initial impact. The batarian struggled to reach for his gun before the Spectre pulled his Carnifex and put a round into his head before throwing him of the vehicle, small rounds impacting on the makeshift street in front of them as the dust buggy narrowly avoided a group of workers coming from one of the buildings.

"Her tracker puts her in one of the main processing units, take the next right," Saren called as Anderson did as he was instructed, only to stomp on the breaks as a large mining truck obstructed their way, a surprised looking batarian driver staring down at them from his cabin before his expression grew more hateful as the wheels of the transporter began to move again. They both realised his intend and his truck would most certainly win that particular fight.

"Maybe I'll take the next right," Anderson suggested as he turned his head around, shifting the dust buggy into reverse and bringing them back on the road they had come from before once more stepping on the gas, causing them to bring some distance between the truck and their much smaller vehicle.

"Good plan," Saren replied as he fired his pistol at a batarian that had gotten to close for his liking. "Whole complex is build like a grid, should get us there," he added as their buggy raced through the refinery. Anderson pulled the steering wheel to the right, sending them on the right path once more while the Spectre took care to decimate the guards firing at them. The fact that the dust buggy was moving as fast as it did made it rather hard for them to hit either way but he wouldn't take any chances. A dead guard simply couldn't hit them.

"Skarr's our priority, he's by far the most dangerous factor," the Spectre began to improvise a plan as he fired several shots through the broken windshield of the dust buggy, dropping a couple of guards with a rapid series of body hits as they lined themselves up on a catwalk above the street. "Once he's eliminated, Sanders will be in the clear and we can focus on getting Had'dah and Qian."

"Alright. Did you notice anything strange about this place?" Anderson asked as he pulled a hard right, wheels screeching as the dust buggy drifted around the corner. While crazy, he was definitely a good driver. Slowly the turian was getting used to his driving style.

"What do you mean?" Saren asked before a bullet tore past his head, causing him to drop the shooter as they drove past him. The batarian collapsed on the road and there were two noticeable bumps on their way as Anderson drove over his corpse. "Besides their horrible aim?" he joked.

"There are no barracks," the N7 remarked. "No living units, not even shacks."

"And?" Saren questioned before his omni-tool beeped. "Turn left," he instructed.

"An awful lot of slaves around here," Anderson muttered while narrowly avoiding another group of workers that had been trying to cross the street at the intersection. "You'd think they'd have a place to stay."

Saren had already noticed the lack of traditional slave slums around their workplaces and the N7 had a point, normally slaves had their own barracks. If not out of the compassion of their masters then for logistical reasons. Mining slaves were usually herded into large, crowded buildings close or within the place they worked at to cut costs. There were no such buildings around here, at least none that he could see and he hadn't seen any living quarters when they had driven through the desert either. Batarians were cruel but they weren't stupid, they let their slaves rest so they wouldn't die of exhaustion after the first few weeks, and as such they actually allowed the people they hold captive to recover from the hard physical labour they conducted every day. It seemed unlikely that they'd transport them to a separate holding facility at the end of each shift and as far as he could tell, the slaves they had seen didn't look like they were being worked to death until their replacements arrived. They had to stay somewhere

"You'd think that," Saren nodded before pointing up ahead. "There's Skarr's transport. Sanders' tracker is somewhere in that building."

"Time to kill that bastard," Anderson replied as he stepped on the breaks to slow down the dust buggy, causing their ride to come to a halt in front of the main Eezo processing unit. The two partners jumped out, for now forgoing to answer the question as to where the slaves lived, and dashed towards the first door they saw, forcing it open just as the guards caught up to them. They practically threw themselves inside, apparently having entered directly into a storage area.

"Bust the lock," Anderson suggested as Saren smashed a biotically fueled fist into the locking mechanism on the inside, the sound of a typical biotic thud being drowned out by the noise created by the machinery inside. Scrambling into cover as they expected to be shot at the moment they set foot inside the building, Saren braced his Carnifex while Anderson raised his assault rifle waiting for the shooters to reveal nothing happened, Saren turned his head around the stack of boxes he was using as for cover and scanned the rest of the hall they were inside, his human companion mirroring his move

No one had noticed them yet.

Large boxes were stacked to the roof as slave workers carried the crates to a conveyor belt leading through the facility and through a series of devices used to refine the Eezo from the ores they had dug up alongside it. Under the watchful eyes of several guards, seemingly unarmed yet probably issued with enforcement gauntlets and submission nets, they poured the crates' contents onto the belt to allow the collection of dirt, ore and Eezo to make its way towards the main processor, a large device hung from the ceiling by several support beams, used to refine the Element Zero. Besides the conveyor belt, the machinery, a second level most likely used for administrative purposes and the boxes, only slaves and guards were visible at first glance. Unlike their comrades on the ground floor and among the slaves, three other, armed batarians were patrolling along a central catwalk located above the rest of the factory, carrying heavy looking Chakram Launchers, a type of grenade launcher that could be modified for riot control through the use of knockout gas grenades. He followed the catwalk and the pipes running across the roof wit his eyes before something caught his attention.

"Left, second floor," Saren pointed out as he spotted Sanders through a stained window of one of the rooms on the second floor, talking to someone out of view as a hulking krogan in dark blue armor paced in front of the room. If it wasn't Skarr who was interrogating her, it was most likely Had'dah, Qian or both. Saren didn't see the krogan taking orders from anyone else. "Now for a way up," he began to look around himself.

"Way ahead of you," Anderson nodded, slowly lifting his rifle towards the krogan before tilting his head to the right, a stairway made of dark-brown metal coming into the Spectre's view as he leaned out of his cover even further. It was obstructed by a pathetic looking fenced gate. Apparently Had'dah Enterprises had decided to cut corners on their security standards due to the presumed safety of Camala, he wouldn't complain about it and he would most certainly exploit it.

"Let's go," the Spectre spoke as his fist lit up once more, a wave of biotic ripples sending the door flying up the stairs at first before gravity once more caused it to slide down towards them. The pair moved up to the stairs and in spite of the noise, Saren could've sworn he had heard voices coming from underneath them as he threw the remains of the door out of his way.

"Did you just hear that?" he asked Anderson who was walking behind him, his eyes focused on the way they had come from, ready to put down anyone that would even consider shooting them in the back.

"Hear what?" the human muttered, walking up the stairs backwards until he bumped into Saren's back. "Keep moving, time is not exactly on our side."

He had a point, the guards could find another way in any minute now.

"I don't know what it was," the turian replied as he once more began walking up the stairs, his Carnifex pointing forward and moving to the head of one of the catwalk guards as he came into view, "but I could've sworn there was something."

"Bad time to start hearing ghosts," Anderson replied as Saren shook the thought out of his head still climbing the stairs and halfway expecting to be spotted by Skarr with every step he took towards the second floor.

"Once we're on top, you'll cover my back and I'll put a hole into Skarr's head," the Spectre began. "Once he's down, you start dashing for the door and I'll be right behind you. We bust it down, put ourselves between Sanders and what's probably Had'dah and Qian interrogating them. If they so much as twitch, start shooting."

"Capturing them isn't really an option anyway," the N7 shrugged as Saren knelt down, the boxy Mantis rifle unfolding in his hands before he took aim at the krogan.

"Then we don't capture them," Saren Arterius offered. "Get ready."

Skarr was a big target but he was also a moving target and the bullet had to hit the right spot, otherwise it may exit his skull before doing enough damage. He only had one shot. He rested the rifle against his shoulder and began to blend out the noise created by the machines around him , focusing on the sound each breath as his surroundings grew more quiet each time he exhaled. He repeated this process right until the noises completely vanished.

Which in turn caused him to look up again. He was good at focusing but he was not that good. No one was that good. One of the walls, acting as a large door used to move bigger things into the hall, was moved upwards before roughly a dozen guards streamed into the refinery, taking aim at the crowd of slaves as the guards in the room began to herd them out of the factory, allowing the security detail to start their search. Unbeknownst to them, they just had made Saren's next action a lot easier. Their entry had drawn the attention of the bounty hunter who had stopped his pacing.

"We got company," Anderson spoke.

"And I got Skarr, prepare to move" Saren whispered as he drew in a long breath. Anderson didn't question his orders, instead preparing himself to start running. Good. His finger slid into the trigger guard and against the actual trigger before he applied just enough pressure to fire of a single Mantis round. The recoil caused the sniper rifle to punch against his armored shoulder in a very familiar feeling while a streak of organe blood shot out of the side of Skarr's head, its impact causing the large bounty hunter to fall backwards and Anderson to run.

After a short silence, the security detail acted.

"They're on the second level! First squad, suppressive fire. Second squad, move up!" he heard a shout as he slapped the Mantis on his back, firing his Carnifex at the three guards on the catwalk before the crowd of security officers on the ground level began to return fire. He saw the onyx back of Anderson's armor in front of him as gained on him, his top speed being slightly higher than that of the N7. Just like he had been told, the N7 threw himself into the door and finding it to be open in the process, falling into the room as it easily gave way to him. Rounds bounced off of Saren's kinetic barriers as he followed him, taking care to snatch the turian service pistol of the krogan corpse lying in their path before jumping inside, nearly tripping over Anderson as he got up from the floor, rising to his feet in one swift motion. The Spectre followed his own plan and used himself as a shield for Sanders, only looking behind him once he was sure no one else was inside the room. Sanders was dangling from a rope used to tie her to a pipe running from somewhere outside of the room to the ceiling of the small office. There were signs of a beating and she looked somewhat worse for wear but was still breathing and more importantly conscious.

"You alright?" Anderson asked as he cut rope with his combat knife, catching her as she dropped to the ground before gently putting her down.

"Qian," she coughed, pointing her still tied hands into the direction of a closed door she was facing, "went that way."

"And Had'dah?" Saren asked before throwing himself to the ground as rounds shattered the window, returning fire with two pistols the instant whoever was shooting at them made the mistake of forgoing fire and maneuver tactics. He saw his rounds bounce of kinetic barriers of one of the guards as his guns overheated and in turn opted to use his biotic abilities. He clipped the retrieved pistol to his hip and then another shockwave of purple energy began flying towards a small squad of guards, the nasty sound of bones breaking putting a stop to their advance once the shockwave made contact with them.

"Went the same way but left before Qian did," Sanders wheezed as Anderson began to apply medigel on a cut on her face. "Something is seriously off about them," she added. "Watch out, Arterius. They're a special kind of crazy."

"I'll be fine," he said as he walked over to the door, shooting another batarian that had survived his biotic assault with his Carnifex, "you got her, Anderson?" Saren asked as he tried the door, only to find it locked. It looked sturdier than the one the N7 had thrown himself into but he had faith in his biotic powers.

"Yes, get going. I can handle a few batarians," Anderson waved as Saren focused his biotics into the heel of his foot, throwing a powerful kick underneath the handle of the metal door. He felt it break from his hinges and saw it slide down a long, dark stairway. Perhaps an escape tunnel? He'd find out soon enough.

He threw a final nod towards Anderson before following it down.

The lights illuminating the stairway grew brighter as he rushed after Qian and Had'dah and he could already see the end of the stairway down below. If he pictured the building correctly and recalled the length of the way they had gone up to towards the second level, he should be somewhere underneath the refinery by now. This set of stairs had been almost double the size of the first one and as he cleared the final step, spinning right with his Carnifex ready to fire, he found out that he was in fact not 'hearing ghosts' before. What he found explained the lack of designated living units, barracks or even basic shacks.

Had'dah Enterprises wasn't just cutting corners on the security front, no they had eliminated the need for slave transports as well. He lowered his Carnifex as he found frightened slaves of several species, mostly sitting or sleeping adults exhausted from night shifts, being the only thing his gun was pointing at. They were living underneath the buildings they were working in and now he had turned their home into a combat zone. There were at least twenty people down here and they had formed a corridor to walk through already. At the very end of it he could make out a person, most likely the human doctor, running away from him. Normally he would've shot the runner into the back without any qualms but as he tried to lift his gun, he saw several batarian slaves get in his line of fire. What had been done to them that they were willing to die for the people causing them so much suffering?

"Spirits, get moving, get out of the factory while you can!" he shouted into the crowd, causing some of the slaves to move in uncertainty before deciding to stop again, the batarian majority remaining on their places right from the beginning. Just how broken were these people? "What are you waiting for, make a run for it!"

"To where would we run?" a deep, guttural batarian voice asked. An elderly batarian had spoken from a metal plank bed, he was to weak to sit up and look at Saren but the Spectre suspected that his expression mirrored the empty stare some of the captives shared. "You can't save us, why bother?" the man growled. "You are the one who should get out of here while he still can, we're not going anywhere."

The fact that the man had a point stung. It was true, he couldn't save them. They had four seats in the dust buggy and no one in this basement besides him had the gear or skill required to survive simply driving out of this factory. If he was entirely honest, at the moment most of them wouldn't even survive setting foot outside of this basement.

But he could give them a chance.

"I can't save you," he echoed through the room. "But maybe you can save yourselves," he said as his omni-tool emitted a high pitched frequency, causing the trackers and control chips in their collars to short circuit. "There's a lot of guns up there," he began, looking at the non-batarian slaves in particular. Maybe they were not as defeated as the people who had grown up as slaves, "and a space worthy transport in the transporter pool."

"What about the guards?" a turian voice flanged. "Most of us are in no fighting shape, spirits most of these people don't have military training."

"They'll be all over me once I try to get out of here. Just wait till you hear them leave."

"It's suicide," another voice called.

"We'll die out there," a third cried. "I don't want to die!"

"This isn't living," the Spectre silenced them. "I can't force you to fight and I can't stay with you. The only thing I can give you is a chance to be free."

"It's better than sitting around," a fourth argued as he stepped forward, a striped batarian with one of his eyes burned out looked at him. The burning of an eye was a sign of having rebelled in the past, a punishment meant to break him. It hadn't worked. "I'd rather die a free man than live one more day in this cursed place."

"Get them out of here," Saren nodded towards him as the batarian returned the gesture. That man might just make it.

He broke into a sprint as the planning began behind him. He didn't know how many decided to take the chance and follow the rebel to freedom and he couldn't afford to think about right now. He had done everything he could, now it was up to them. At least that's what he told himself before shoving the guilt into a compartment. His naturally higher pace allowed him to quickly eliminate whatever head start Qian had gotten and his feet carried him through the basement of the refinery at a breakneck speed. Soon it became evident that Qian was far slower than Saren, a turian in his physical peak chasing a regular person was hardly a fair race. While a human of equal training would've been able to exploit the head start for far longer, this man was a scientist, not a soldier. He never stood a chance. The Spectre launched himself off of the ground as his hands reached for the doctor's shoulders, pulling him down to the floor before turning him around. Saren pressed his left forearm against Qian's throat and pointed a pistol at his head before assessing him. The man had a brownish skin pigmentation, not as dark as Anderson's but not as fair as that of Sanders either and short, black hair on his head. Blood leaked from a cut above his eye and a couple of teeth appeared to have broken off as the doctor smiled at him, a reddish stain coating several of them.

"Where's Had'dah? What were you planning?" Saren said as he lifted his forearm just enough to allow the doctor to speak.

"You can't stop him," Qian said. "No one can."

"We'll see about that," Saren said as he pressed his Carnifex against Qian's head. The man sure had a lot of faith in Had'dah. "What were you planning? Why can't I stop him?"

"You don't understand, do you?" Qian cracked another smile,"you didn't see what I saw. Of course you don't understand how could you? You're blind. Looking back it was so obvious, our arrogance blinded us, we always assum-"

A punch to the face stopped the human's rambling. Not only did punching him relieve some of the anger that had built up in the Spectre over the course of the day but it also served to keep him from wasting Saren's time with nonsense.

"Different question then," the Spectre said as he leaned in closer. "Why did Had'dah reach out to you?"

"He didn't reach out to me, he showed me the truth," the human shouted as Saren pressed him down to keep him under control. "The truth, the truth, the tru-", the human began to repeat himself, banging his head against the ground with each time he spoke the word 'truth'.

"What truth?" Saren snarled as the word repetition brought up a distant, yet clear memory of one of Haliat's recordings, placing a hand on the doctor's forehead and pressing it to the ground to prevent him from knocking himself out, he glared at him. He needed answers. His brother needed answers.

"You'll live to see it, turian," Qian said before his eyes began to glow, "and when you do, you'll wish you would've died earlier."

"Oh crap," he muttered as he remembered a talk he had had with another Spectre about salarian STG informants.

Saren tried to get as far away from him as possible, throwing himself forward and hitting the ground just as the ocular nerve flashbangs detonated. He would've to thank Solik Raeka, the Spectre who had inducted him, for telling him about that particular device. The fall to the ground had damaged his helmet, a large crack running down the middle of his visor, making it nearly impossible to keep wearing it and carrying it was hardly an option right about now. He clipped the white, damaged piece of gear to the back of his armor after getting up and began following the corridor. Had'dah could've only gone one way, it was a straight corridor after all. He managed to take exactly two steps before stumbling forward, narrowly avoiding pieces of the ceiling falling down on his Qian's corpse and blocking the path behind him as a detonation shook the entire structure around him. That hadn't been the work of the ocular nerve flashbangs but he didn't trust this corridor any longer, causing him to break into a sprint just as more pieces began to come down.

As he ran, he once more pictured the refinery in his mind and tried to calculate how far he had already gone, coming to the conclusion that the building should've run out of basement some thirty steps ago. He saw the end of the corridor and leaped forward just as it gave in completely, rolling to a stop on his back and halfway wondering if he had been hit as he felt a warm, wet liquid on his head. When no debris crushed him and he realised that the liquid was orange blood dripping out of a crack in the ceiling, he groaned in pain and decided that his time wasn't up just yet and that getting up and finishing the mission was his best course of action for now. He could think about a way back to the surface when he was at that point of his plan.

Looking around himself, he figured that Had'dah had built his own, private office underneath the refinery complex, at least the large, semi-open bunker door in front of him suggested that much. He lifted his Carnifex and walked towards the gap between two large, armored pieces of metal serving as the bunker's main entrance. Taking a look inside, he found the room to be surprisingly dark, except for the shine of several monitors and surprisingly empty, except for a batarian typing away at a terminal before his omni-tool lit up.

"Step away from the console, Had'dah," he called as he saw the yellow coloration of the batarian's robe. "Hands up, slowly."


Seven Minutes Earlier, 17. January 2396 AD, Camala, Had'dah Enterprises Refinery

Anderson dropped the syringe of medigel as the Spectre went down the stairs, reaching out for Sanders' hand as he turned to her.

"Hunker down, you're in no condition to fight," he said as she grabbed a hold of the black gauntlet.

"You'll need help," the woman refused. "Give me your pistol."

"No," the N7 commanded. "Consider it an order, I outrank you, Lieutenant Sanders."

"Barely, Staff Lieutenant Anderson," the lieutenant sighed as he helped her to her feet before sitting her down in the far end of the room. "I don't like doing nothing."

That was an understatement.

"You've done more than the two of us. Stay low, I'll handle them. This is what I'm here for," Anderson said as he lifted his rifle, inching closer to the trigger as batarian shaped shadows began to appear on the wall next to the stairs. That would be the remaining five guards. They were in a narrow space and he would get the first shot but the pointman would've armor and shields, he couldn't just fire through all of them, even with the armor piercing rounds loaded into his SR-8 his bullets would get stuck eventually.

What he could do was pin them down until he improved his position.

Firing his gun, shell casings went flying as he walked sideways, away from the large, shattered window and away from Sanders to minimize the danger of her being hit in the crossfire. The pointman was dead after the first five rounds had left his rifle, the hybrid technology of mass effect and regular, powder based weaponry allowing the SR-8 to destroy his shields, dig through his armor and finally rupture his internal organs before he could get of a shot from his boxy, black Terminator assault rifle.

Next to go was the batarian behind him, dying just an inch short of cover as his head was torn apart by another three rounds that left the muzzle of Anderson's rifle as he pressed himself against the edge of the window, using the wall to stabilize his aim before being forced into cover as the three remaining batarians began to suppress him and their own shots got too close to Anderson for his liking. While he had been issued with a kinetic shielding hybrid, he didn't feel like testing his luck too much. Instead he crawled underneath the gunfire, small holes appearing just above his head in the process, until he found himself at the edge of the door. He got to his knees and leaned around, shooting a batarian that used the suppressive fire of his comrades to try and get into the room. The corpse fell forward but the N7 caught it before it hit the ground, throwing his left arm around the dead batarian's neck before pushing himself from his knees and to his feet, using the corpse as a human, or rather batarian, shield. The batarian was heavy but Anderson was under adrenaline, so he would manage for now. He rested the SR-8 on the corpses shoulder and began shooting at the two batarians, killing one of them before his gun ran dry just as the kinetic barriers of the last guard failed. He let go of the SR-8, causing the rifle to swing at his side as he reached for his SIS-8, putting four rounds into the remaining batarian's head who had gotten out of his cover to try exploiting Anderson's lack of bullets, before dropping his dead comrade to the ground, breathing heavily.

"It's done," he called back as he saw something wrong in the corner of his eye. There should've been a corpse there.

"No, it's not," a deep voice growled as a strong hand grabbed him from the side, throwing him onto the catwalk and sending his pistol flying.

Skarr.

Anderson got to his feet while reaching for another magazine for his SR-8, looking at the krogan slowly stomping towards him, a smirk on his face. Or rather a smirk on what was left of his face. The right half of his head, the one Saren had shot, was a complete mess and blood was flowing from a hole in his headplate where the Mantis round had most likely made its exit. The blood loss, severity of injury and the fact that Skarr had been down without moving or breathing for several minutes had been ample reason to consider him dead. No one would've survived that. Hell, looking at him Anderson was pretty sure that Skarr hadn't survived for a few minutes until his blood rage had somehow kicked in and revived him.

In the future, he would shoot any dead krogan twice. If there was a future.

He slapped a fresh magazine into the SR-8 and began pulling the trigger just as the krogan pulled on the muzzle of the rifle, a few shots digging through the softer armor at the palm of his hand until Anderson had to let go to keep his finger from being torn off as the bounty hunter forced the rifle out of his hand, tearing it of the sling Anderson had used to attach the rifle to his body armor-

"Heh. You think this toy is going to be enough to kill me?" Skarr said as he tossed it across the railing, picking up Anderson by his collar bone shortly afterwards. "That's insulting," he said as he spat orange blood onto Anderson's visor. In turn the N7 headbutted the injured half of his face, causing the krogan's grip to weaken a bit before growing even stronger. That cracking was the sound of at least a week of pain and it hadn't even gotten him enough wiggle room to get free.

"Heh, you got fight in you human," Skarr chuckled. "I respect that. Means I'll enjoy killing you even more."

The short period of weightlessness was not enough for Anderson to prepare himself for the impact. Skarr had thrown him over the railing and onto the conveyer belt. He felt himself land on a hard surface and only his gut telling him to roll right saved him from being crushed as Skarr jumped after him. He had no pistol, no rifle and killing a krogan in a knife fight sounded like a downright insane idea to him. The things he did have was a basic knowledge of chemistry, an eye for opportunity, an upgraded omni-tool, a grenade and a lot of adrenaline fueled courage. First he'd have to get to the krogan in the right spot and that would require a little insanity. Against his better judgment, he pulled his knife and looked at the krogan, purple ripples forming in the air around him as several crates began to float behind him. Anderson jumped forward and to the left as the crates started flying towards him at a deadly speed. The N7 avoided several of them as he ran towards the spot he needed to be in for this to work while the orange glow of his omni-tool coming to life allowed him to adjust the current of the overload program tp his needs. As he saw Skarr run out of crates to throw, he stopped dodging and came to a halt.

"Still got that blade from Elysium, Skarr?" he began to talk as his omni-tool remained ready. "Let's settle this the old fashioned way."

When the krogan smirked once more, he knew that his bait had worked.

"Fine by me," Skarr drew the dagger from its sheath as he wiped some of the blood out of his face, grunting in pain as he brushed against the open wound. They began to circle each other for several seconds right until Anderson stopped moving, in turn causing the krogan to stand just where he needed him to stand.

His plan was pretty simple.

When subjected to a positive electric current, Element Zero increased the mass of everything around it in relation to the strength of the current currently influencing it. As the krogan's back was turned to the device used to refine Element Zero, Anderson simply hoped that the metal used to create it was conductive. Had'dah Enterprises wasn't very big on workplace safety and ironically that might just save his own life right about now. He thrusted his hand forward as the blue electric current connected with the refining equipment, causing Skarr's expression to narrow. In theory it should've caused the object to become far heavier than its supporting structure was capable of carrying, forcing it to collapse on the krogan.

In theory.

In praxis, nothing happened.

"If you're trying to cheat," the krogan laughed, "at least hit what you're ai-"

Skarr was interrupted when something did happen. The large piece of machinery came crashing towards him as its support beams gave in, forcing him to catch it to keep it from crushing him. Element Zero needed a few moments to react to a current. He should've remembered that particular detail from his advanced chemistry class in school. However he did remember that in certain situations, like during its refining process, Element Zero was rather unstable and prone to explosions. Pulling the safety pin from his grenade, he rolled it towards the krogan before jumping as far away as he could. It was a five second fuze but he didn't account for the time he needed to get away.

One, two, three, fou-

The explosion that followed eclipsed what he had excepted to happen by a long shot. He had underestimated just how much Eezo had been stored in the refining tanks. The factory shook as pieces of the floor began to crumble around the now collapsed processor. He scanned the ground and spotted the krogan lying underneath the piece of machinery, most of his body crushed by its weight, his arms torn apart by the explosion and even more blood flowing from his wounds.

Yet somehow his eyes moved to look at Anderson as the N7 picked up his rifle.

"Heh," the krogan grunted, causing Lieutenant Anderson to spin around, almost feeling silly for believing that the krogan would attack him in this state.

"What's so funny?" Anderson asked as he leveled his SR-8 at the krogan's head.

"I'm not afraid of venturing into the void," the krogan chuckled as he coughed up orange blood. Anyone else would've long since died but Skarr had already proven that he wasn't anyone else. "I just didn't think it would happen because of something like this."

"Like what?"

"Taking a job from a crazy batarian," the krogan said as the floor underneath him began to show cracks, causing Anderson to take a step back. "You fought well."

"Kind of a weird thing to say, given the circumstances," the N7 replied as he slowly backed up more.

"Do me a favour."

"What?"

"Kill me," the krogan said as he brought down his barriers. "Right here, right now. With your toy."

Others may have done things differently. By all means Skarr would've deserved slowly burning to death for everything he had, others may have left him to suffer right until the end out of vengeance but Anderson held himself to a higher standard than that. He wasn't willing to be the kind of person he fought against, no matter how angry he was. A single round left the SR-8, putting an end to Skarr's life just before the ground gave out underneath his corpse, falling into what looked like a small, straight corridor. He didn't dare to move an inch for several seconds but when nothing else came crashing down, he let out a sigh of relief. Apparently the refinery was stable, for now. Now he only needed the Spectre to make it back to them.

When his radio came to life, a batarian laughter being transmitted from the turian's end, he knew that Saren Arterius was still somewhat busy.


Early 2138 CE, Camala, Had'dah Enterprises Refinery

"I waited for you, turian," Edan Had'dah turned around and spoke as him omni-tool illuminated parts of his brown face. He had downloaded something and if the flashing message on the screen that informed everyone reading it that all files in the system had been deleted was anything to go by, getting to that omni-tool just became a priority. "He told me that others would try to keep me from fulfilling my purpose."

"Step away from the console or I'll put you down right here, right now," the batarian began to comply, one step at a time.

"You'll pay for what you did. Humans, turians, the Council you'll all burn," his voice was slightly weaker than in the recordings Saren had used to get a basic idea of the entrepreneur. He sounded almost sickly, exhausted really.

"What were you planning, Had'dah? With whom?" the Spectre said as he slowly began to close in on the batarian.

"I wasn't planning anything, I didn't need to. I was merely following instructions."

"Whose instructions?" Saren asked.

"Your ignorance will be your undoing, turian," the aristocrat replied in a humble tone,"I have seen the truth, a truth you can't comprehend."

"Try me."

"No," the batarian refused. "You're incapable of understanding. You're deeply flawed. All of us are."

Why were the people he was after always so fond of being cryptic? In the distance he could see a ladder reaching up to what might be a hatch to the surface.

His way out.

"Why did you reach out for Qian? You hate humans, why work with them?" Saren called through the room while scanning it for other targets. Just like the doctor, Edan Had'dah was rambling and just like the doctor, the parallels to Captain Haliat became very obvious, very fast.

"His skills were required for me to comprehend my findings. I didn't work with him, I used him," the batarian spoke as he turned around, four hateful eyes vanishing in the dark as the glow of his omni-tool died. "At first he was a tool in my vengeance but then he became just another pawn in his plan."

"Vengeance for your brother?" Saren recalled the interrogation of the batarian guard back on Juxhi. He already knew that Had'dah wouldn't disclose who 'he' was but he might get out other bits and pieces of information out of the batarian.

"After you filth took him from me, I looked for a way to avenge him, a way to make you suffer like I did. I found it but I also found so much more. I found something that made my desires so insignificant, so pointless."

"If they were so insignificant, why go through all the trouble?" Saren began walking closer, if he was fast enough, he could overwhelm Edan Had'dah and bring him in. "What did you find, Had'dah?"

The batarian merely began to laugh as Saren activated his radio link to Anderson in order to let him know that he was in fact still around.

"The only reason you're still alive is because you know something of value, Had'dah," Saren muttered as he took another step towards the batarian. "There's nowhere left for you to run and the only way you're getting out of here is if you give me something that makes you worth saving. It's your choice."

"It doesn't matter if I live or die, turian. Our path has been set since our ancestors first sailed through the stars. We never had a choice. None of us. Not you, not me."

"What did you find, Had'dah?"

"The truth," the batarian whispered as Saren saw something move underneath his robes. "I found the truth."

An explosive vest. Probably more than enough to bring down the whole bunker on them.

"Don't do it, you'll die" Saren said. Truthfully he'd probably enjoy shooting Had'dah but the batarian was of far more value alive. His behaviour was familiar and if they were speaking about the same truth Haliat had mentioned, his knowledge was invaluable.

"Didn't I tell you?" the batarian asked. "It doesn't matter if I live or die."

One last try to talk him out of it.

"How are you going to avenge your brother if you're dead?"

"I don't have to avenge him anymore, turian. You cannot escape your doom," his hands started to move as time slowed down in Saren's head. Before Had'dah could even think about pressing the detonator, the turian put two rounds into his head, causing his limp corpse to drop to the ground.

"Anderson, you got my position?" Saren called through the radio as he ran towards Had'dah, their omni-tools linking up just as the N7 replied.

"On my way, one minute out," the human lieutenant simply replied, the faintest sound of gunfire already audible through the radio link.

"Copy that. I'm underground," the Spectre explained as he looked at the remaining data on Had'dah's omni-tool, coordinates somewhere in the Perseus Veil, a survey report from 2135 CE and a death notification of one Heth Had'dah. "Qian and Had'dah are both dead," he said as he kept looking. The rest of his data was completely corrupted and far beyond salvage and the faint red light blinking ever faster under Had'dah's robe forced a shift of priority.

Time to get out of here. He didn't know where the hatch was going but he knew that going back was not an option. He ran to the ladder, climbing up and ripping the heavy hatch at the top of the bunker off with his biotic powers, rolling away from the opening just as a ball of fire shot up into the sky.

Two close calls in less than five minutes, that was a new personal best.

When a powerful sniper round smashed into the street next to his head, he beat his personal record immediately.

Three times in five minutes. That round would've killed him.

The screeching wheels of the dust buggy coming to a halt next to him were music to his ears. He threw himself into the back of the vehicle as Sanders fired off a series of assault rifle bursts into the direction they had come from before Anderson stepped on the gas again. Saren got up from his prone position, prepared to help fighting off whoever was after them only to sigh in frustration as he spotted the black coloured gunship.

"Iwo Jima, we're coming in hot, over," Anderson spoke as they tore through the opening in the fence they had created on their way in, the dead guards from earlier still lying in puddles of dried, dark red blood.

"Copy that ground team, you got a lot of hostiles coming your way," the reply echoed through Anderson's radio as Saren killed the driver of one of the corporate vehicles hunting them, a final jerk of his muscles causing him to ram into another dust buggy and drive both of them to roll to a stop in the desert. "We also got a transport lifting off inside the refinery. Preparing to engage. Over."

"No, don't," Saren called towards Anderson. Someone had taken his offer. " Don't engage that transport, it is not hostile. Hail it and tell them to make a run for turian space. Tell them that they can get past batarian naval patrols if they pretend to belong."

"Copy that ground team, over," a voice replied after some moments of confused hesitation.

The N7 turned to look at him, his black faceplate hiding his most likely confused expression.

"It's a long story," he explained. "Now get your eyes back on the road before you run over something besides guards."

Shrugging, Anderson returned his gaze forward, accelerating the dust buggy further.

"Iwo Jima, where are you?" the N7 asked as Saren saw a trail of gunfire impacts crawl towards them, each impact getting closer. The gunship's gunner was gaining on them, fast. This dust buggy wouldn't survive a single hit from a canon of that size and neither would he. Once more he only had one grabbed his Mantis, steading it as good as he could as Anderson jumped over yet another dune. Mid air, Saren took his shot at the canopy of the pilot and much to his surprise the gunship exploded in a fiery ball of shrapnel, Element Zero and what looked like a batarian pilot.

Sanders looked at him in utter amazement and his mandibles simply twitched in confusion while he stared at the rifle in his hands. That should not have happened. There was simply no way he was this lucky. How could that be possible?

A shadow casting itself over them informed him that it was in fact not possible.

The white writing on the hull was the first thing he saw. HSASV Iwo Jima. Then he recognized the maneuver. It was a textbook turian frigate close air support strike. Apparently the regular joint naval exercises were paying off in more than one way.

"We can't land here, ground team. The terrain is too uneven," he heard through the radio as a large, green frigate shot past them, a smoke trail appearing in the sky far above them as its point-defense systems shot down an enemy air asset. "Prepare to rerou-"

"Negative, stay in front of us, lower the ramp and get as far down as you can," Anderson corrected as Saren noticed the large dune in front of them.

"Copy that, ground team. Don't scratch our paint."

The Iwo Jima executed its part of the plan perfectly and time slowed down as Anderson stepped on the gas pedal.

"What are you doing?" Sanders asked as her eyes grew wider.

"You should probably-" Saren began before Anderson interrupted him.

"Hold on!" the N7 shouted as the Spectre braced himself. Their ride left the dune at its highest point, flying through the air and rapidly losing height as he held his breath. Gravity was quickly catching up on their little stunt.

But for once, gravity lost.

Their wheels touched down inside the hangar and Anderson stomped on the brakes, coming to a halt at the very end and drawing a long, black line across its surface.

"We got them!" he heard over the radio as the ramp at the end of the frigate began to close behind them.

They had actually gotten away.

For some reason both the Spectre and the N7 began to chuckle upon the realisation that their stunt had just worked, getting out of the dust buggy only to sit down on the hangar's floor as they burst out into all out laughter.

"You're completely crazy," Sanders stuttered as she climbed out of the dust buggy. "Both of you," she said in disbelief as she tried to keep her balance. "I don't even know what to say. This is just," she sighed before running a hand through her hair. "What the hell is wrong with you two?"

"You think this was bad? You weren't here on the way to the refinery," Saren replied as he drew in a breath, got up and took a step before the ridiculousness of the situation once more overwhelmed him, causing him to lean against the side of the dust buggy.

That would be an interesting report to write.


Codex: Element Zero

The material needed to maniplate the mass effect, sometimes mistaken for a nactual periodical element, is used by applying either a positive or negative electric current to release dark energy in order to either increase or decrease the mass of something.

Some people claim that Eezo is the lifeblood of the galactic community, these people would be right. Element Zero is needed to enable faster-than-light travel without time dilation and finds uses in manufacturing incredibly durable construction materials It is also used to generate artificial gravity, applied in all armed forces across the galaxy, forms the basis of many advanced medicine procedures and can even be used to produce highly effective tooth brushes.

The material, commonly generated when a planet is affected by the energy of a star going super nova, is commonly found in asteroids ,such as Omega, but planetary deposits, such as those on Thessia or Camala, are known to exist and have an impact on the galactic economy.

Element Zero is conductive material that manifests itself as a bluish powder when brought into contact with air, for example due to leaking from a spaceship engine. It possesses a mutagenic effect and is the source of biotic powers but can also cause deadly illnesses such as cancer. Refining Eezo can turn dangerous due to a critical stage in the purification process causing the material to become highly reactive for a short period, an effect brought under control once the process is finished but still considered risky enough to prohibit workers from being anywhere near a processing unit.


Chapter 28!

Faster than expected and far longer than expected. Neat, isn't it?

What remains of Revelation is the conclusion, something I'll get to as fast as I can because there is still one scene that already would've taken place in the novel that I deliberatly saved until the very end.

As you can tell, this is a very different end result to the book's climax. Saren did not blow up an entire factory and Anderson has no reason to hate him whatsoever. This is the one thing I wanted to make different about Revelation.

I don't see how my Saren could've done the shit he did in that book and I outright refuse to suddenly make him a bad guy because plot demands it. Everything my characters do is going to be a logical action for them.

What can I say, at long last we get back to a bit of reaper-y dialoge, something I enjoy writing very much. People told me they really liked how I put the horror and general uneasiness back into the reapers in this fic and that's something I hope I managed to get right again. I think that the reapers, due to messing with your head, are something incredibly creepy and I try to give the scenes that their thralls appear in that feeling.

Tell me what you thought about the fact that this chapter has so much action, I really enjoyed writing Anderson and Saren, even if it got a bit silly at the end there. I just could picture that scene so clearly in my head that I had to put it out for you guys. Hope I managed that as well.

For the record we're at 218 reviews (mostly because of D72 who took the time to review a lot of chapters as he read through the story, shoutout to you man, I appreciate you giving me my fix), 409 favorites and 497 follows.

As always, let me know what you think.

See you around next time.