Chapter 23 - The Galactic Tournament

A/N - Bit of a long one here, build up and execution took more than I expected.

"BURN THE HERETICS! Only through fire and fury do we earn His favor!" - The ever lovable pyromaniacal Sisters of Battle. A bigger group of self flagellating overzealous loonies I have yet to encounter.

Two days later, the Normandy flashed into existence in the Serpent Nebula from one of the relays, having broken several laws and regulations about engine safety and responsible flying, and began burning hard for the Citadel. Arlas had been informed of their impending arrival to the station, and had come up to the bridge to wait for the docking to finish so he could go to the registration desk. Apparently everyone had to physically show up to finish registration, a bureaucratic measure that had been implemented after a salarian had entered himself into one tournament six times. The process had been open for a week at this point, and would be closing in less than an hour.

The Twins had forbidden him from using his lander to get to the registration and sign in faster, claiming his craft was too large and heavily armed to be allowed inside the wards, and had instead gotten him a local vehicle to take him there, which would pick him up at the docking bay. He allowed himself a sigh of annoyance. The crew had been consistently annoying lately, repeatedly ask him about how good he was and how far he thought he would get, allowing him to practice consistently ignoring them.

He was currently in his old carapace armor and his Striking Scorpion tunic, carrying his swords and shuriken pistol. He had wanted to bring some of his other equipment, specifically his long rifle and fusion gun, but the Twins had flat out vetoed it, claiming that C-Sec could and would detain and confiscate the larger weapons. Since he was already missing too much in the way of equipment, he didn't need any more of it exploding because some fool of a mon-keigh tried to steal it. He had instead handed the geth long rifle over to Garrus and Tali, who had offered to look it over during the week of the tournament and see what improvements they could make to it.

Arlas was less than pleased to be entering a mon-keigh stronghold so lightly armed, but he was going to have to make concessions if he was going to move among them without causing problems. He mentally shook his head, not irritated enough to need to move physically, before turning his attention to the still entirely unnecessary forward view point. That ship feature made him frown, even as he took in the purple dust cloud, obscuring the distant star. Even as he watched, something began to eclipse the star, and as his mind struggle to interpret the shadow into something he could understand, the dust cloud suddenly thinned enough to let him see the mon-keigh's Citadel in its entirety for the first time.

The first thing that struck him was the modest size, a notion reinforced by the knowledge that it was only forty five kilometers long at the longest extension. The smallest space station the eldar constructed was at least twenty kilometers to a side, though the Respite class spire stations were mostly long, thin spars to help minimize its chance of being detected, but it still could berth any class of eldar ship and defend itself. But this was just five long, thin plates that could open and close, and couldn't fight off a frigate without help. It was supposed to be 'impenetrable,' but Arlas had destroyed enough things called 'indestructible' to realize the mon-keigh hadn't really tried to hurt their precious, scavenged space station. A couple plasma cannons, plasma mortars, or pulsar lasers would burn through that 'armor' in no time at all, he figured.

"And if you look out the left window, you will see the Destiny Ascension, galaxy's largest, most overpriced bath toy."

Arlas actually chuckled as he looked over, and spotted the purple star from his first visit, and just shook his head. "And that thing is a warship?"

Joker snorted. "Yep. Asari designed, built, crewed, and all that jazz."

Arlas just chuckled again and shook his head. "It looks like someone designed it for something completely different, and then it got repurposed into a warship."

Joker looked over at him amused and nodded. "I know, right?"

Arlas' omnitool suddenly buzzed, and he tapped the accept button when he saw it was Joannis. "Lioness."

"We are approaching the Citadel. Where are you?"

"Bridge airlock."

"...Being nice to Joker?"

"Discussing the failings of the asari in making warships."

That got an amused cough from someone with her, but Joannis kept talking. "Alright, on my way up. Bringing Icivia with us, she needs to head further Wardside to meet someone, and will be taking our transport after we get off. You listen about the weapons?"

He simply sighed, and waited for her to get to the next point. Joker, however, butted in. "He is carrying his double peashooter and two can-openers, ma'am."

Arlas turned to stare at the pilot, who just gave him a shrug. Joannis saved her pilot from immediate retribution. "Thank you Arlas. We don't have much spare time. Joker? Get us docked quick as you legally can. I doubt the Council would be amused by me abusing my Spectre status to get parked faster. Especially for business not related to Spectre duties."

"I dunno ma'am. Blasto uses his to pick up dates and Icivia uses her to get to the front of the line in the mess hall."

"Blasto is a fictional character in a salarian movie. I am not. And Icivia did that once, to make a point, and agreed to not do it again when we called her out on it. See you two in a minute."

Arlas closed down the comm channel, before turning toward Joker. "Can opener?"

Joker gave him an amused smirk before turning back to his consoles. "An item for opening cans, of course. Pay attention."

Arlas considered the statement, before first drawing his power sword, then chain blade, and examining them. The former could qualify, if one counted things like Astartes or Necrons as cans, but the latter, not so much. He returned the power blade to its sheath, before idly flicking the power selector of the one handed chain blade on, and smiling softly as the gentle growling of the small, powerful engine began churning, rotating the wraithbone teeth through their channel, suddenly lost in memories of his Striking Scorpion training. He came back to reality when someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned, and spotted most of the ground team and some of the ship's crew, all of them staring, many of them concerned. He flicked the weapon off, and smoothly slid it back into its sheath, before glancing at the view ports. After a moment, he heard someone near the back speak up. "What was that thing?"

It must have been one of the frigate crew, as he didn't recognize the voice, but there was enough rampant curiosity that he answered anyway. "Chain blade. Meant for cleaving through unarmored or lightly armored foes. Like most mon-keigh."

That had neatly silenced the questions at him until they landed, and he found it was just himself, Joannis, and Icivia in the decontamination chamber for the first group. He looked at the empty chairs on the walls, and the empty floor space, which would allow at most a dozen people to be decontaminated for entry and exit at a time. He mentally dismissed the issue, before stepping out of the airlock as it opened. A quick look around showed there was no vehicle waiting, and he turned to the human with him. She was already moving to the elevator, and he sighed as he realized he was back in the same docking bay as during the first visit.

A short ride down later, and while C-Sec had tried to make a scene about his handgun, he had simply stared at them impassively, sending Joannis his mounting irritation and urge for violence at the delay, until she had 'reminded' the turian officer that he was a Spectre Associate, and therefore exempt from the firearm registration regulations. They were going to be late for the registration if this crap kept up.

Ashley shook her head as she watched the Lioness and Icivia enter the decontamination chamber. "And now he has a chainsaw sword. Great. Just when I thought the most vicious weapon he had was his flaying death net thing, he goes and pulls out a sword that is also a chainsaw."

She shook her head, before looking at the others in the hallway. "So, what are our plans for the week?"

Garrus shrugged. "Got a call from a fellow C-Sec detective. He needs some help with a job, after that, probably watch the tournament."

Wrex chuckled. "Got a bet to place, then taking that old armor to an armor dealer I know. Get it fixed, refurbished, and upgraded. Then meet with the Shepards' mother and watch the tournament."

Tali and Liara looked at each other, before Liara answered. "I need to swing by the Asari embassy, and see the local branch of a firm my family uses. Then Tali is going to help me pick out a new weapon and set of armor."

Kaidan shrugged. "Going to see about restocking everything, and see if the Alliance has our PAX-12 armaments, and a replacement mako so we can deploy the whole team, not just five people or so. And not rely on Elfy's lander. Though we will probably have to swing by Arcturus Space Station to get the latter two."

Garrus snorted. "Is that his official nickname now? And what about you, Williams?"

"Well, it was either that or Museum Escapee. And Tali's doesn't roll off the tongue as well."

Ashley shrugged. "See about a better set of armor and weapons, and then get some supplies for the party we will be having while Arlas is fighting."

Jaclyn Shepard came striding down the hallway, and looked everyone over, before tapping a couple buttons on her omnitool. She then began speaking, her voice echoing from the ships paging system. "Alright people, listen up. Commander Jaclyn speaking. Rules for the next week are as follows. We are on the Citadel for a week, getting repaired, rearmed, and resupplied. Once everything has been made ship shape, we are releasing the crew for shore leave. However, it will be rotating shore leave, so check the schedule before you run off, and keep your omnitools nearby. We aren't expecting problems, but the mission comes first, and worst case scenario, we leave Elfy behind to finish the tournament if we do get an urgent lead or mission. Remember to act appropriately, because even off duty, you represent the Systems Alliance."

She turned and gave the people waiting at the airlock an expectant look as she turned off the paging system. "And has everyone here cleaned up their stations and ship quarters?"

At a round of affirmatives from most of the crew, and mostly just noises from the ground team, she gave them all a bright smile, and reactivated the paging system. "All hands, there will be an inspection starting in the crew quarters in fifteen minutes. Any quarters or stations not up to regs will result in reduction or rescinding of shore leave. Carry on."

She ignored a couple of crew that had been waiting for the airlock suddenly heading back along the bridge toward the stairs, and gave the ground team a bright smile. "Joannis will be sending me Elfy's battle schedule as soon as it gets posted, so who wants a copy so we can rent a room and watch him get trounced? Though hopefully not too badly, some of us are placing bets."

Arlas stood with Joannis at the edge of the 'arena' where he would be fighting tomorrow. He could see a dozen mats, five meters to a side, in this room alone. He knew there were more than a dozen rooms scattered throughout this area of the wards, a massive collection of rooms, too big to be used for anything but either production or storage, but lacking any purpose without an abundance of materials. The one thing the compound did have was a surprisingly robust cooling system built into every room, and it made him wonder about the original purpose of the rooms. Could have been perishable storage, and the asari just had the equipment ripped out when they first got here. Would fit with what I know of the race, claiming eldar wisdom, but having all the impatience of the humans. Think a couple centuries is 'long term planning,' that is when long term is just starting to show results, not finishing up.

He shook off the thought, before turning to the human. "Why are we still here? I have registered myself, and my two blades and sheaths."

"You registered the sheaths? Why?"

"Apparently you have never had someone hit you in the head with a metal sheath before."

He failed to mention that some eldar worked actual blades into the edges of the sheaths, but he had never tried it before.

"What, you don't want to see where you will be competing, getting a lay of the land, seeing your opponents and getting information early?"

"You seem to think I am concerned about them doing more than hitting themselves. Cute."

He leaned forward, and collapsed the helm around his mouth, so he could quietly talk in her ear. "Care to know a secret?"

She shivered slightly, an atavistic reaction to the power he had pushed into his voice, before nodding slightly. He smirked softly, letting his amusement carry into his voice. "I have been playing on all the missions before, except that part on Terra's moon when the mechs ambushed me. After Feros, and the destruction of my hovercraft? After the injuries on the Guided Wrath and the loss of my equipment? I am done playing. I think I will show you what an eldar can do when properly motivated."

He smiled, and reformed the mouthguard of his helmet, before looking at his omnitool as it suddenly buzzed. "Looks like they just sent the list. What is the crew's betting on my chances like?"

He still found the concept of betting unusual, but after more than four months with the mon-keigh, it was one of their more understandable tendencies. A chance to use their experience and instincts against each other, to sharpen their minds. The rewards were just a nice extra and to ensure everyone tried their best. He looked over the schedule, idly noting that only the first part had been filled in, showing that he was in section sixty four, the last section, and at the very bottom of the list. He was idly amused to note that the first opponent was an asari.

Joannis ignored his question, instead tapping away at her omnitool. "Alright, the rest of the crew has the list now. And you are first fighting… Asari matron Sula Wysius. Apparently been a 'professional' blade wielder and tournament competitor for three hundred years, and is considered a strong seed by the asari. Her listed odds, according to the official finalized betting chart, are about one in two sixty. Yours are… maxed out at one in ten thousand. Apparently, lacking data on your race, or a showing of your abilities, the bookies simply put your odds at variable, and a lot of people have been betting against you."

She frowned, before chuckling softly. "Apparently, there have been only sixty or so bets in your favor, though many of those have been… substantial."

He turned his head toward her, since she wouldn't see his expression through his helmet, prompting her to continue. "Spectres can see who placed the bets after the betting has closed, see if someone is trying to fix the tournament. Almost everyone on the crew has thrown at least a few credits behind you, but a few notables are Wrex, me and my sister, my mother…"

She paused in surprise before shrugging. "The Consort, and someone named Ben Hislop. The last put several billion on you winning the tournament. Might wanna have a look and see who that is, its a human name, but I am not aware of someone with that much in assets with that name. But I am surprised to see the Consort bet on you, she has a reputation of picking beings that get far in the tournament."

His curiosity aroused, he led the way out of the hall, toward the central room, where the last six rounds would take place. "Can you see who else she placed bets on?"

Joannis shook her head. "Results aren't correlated yet. I can search for who bet on the competitor I am currently viewing, but if I want to see how someone distributed their bets, I have to wait until after the tournament. It's to help protect the people making bets from getting attacked for their winnings."

Arlas looked about the last room, and saw dozens of private seating boxes arranged against the wall, all of them looking down at the thirty meter to a side mat in the middle. Done investigating, he turned to leave. "Seems overly complicated."

She nodded. "It is. Designed by salarians, against salarians. Strangely, it seems to work. Helps they have a couple Spectres that focus on this tournament for the week, just to make sure."

Stepping out of the 'arena,' he frowned at several approaching beings with small drones following them, before turning to Joannis. "What next? I have little to do until tomorrow when the tournament starts except finish healing my ribs."

Wrex stepped into the shop, and groaned as he spotted a familiar back at the counter, talking to the exact person he needed to. Realizing he couldn't get around it, he simply nodded as the two krogan glanced at him. The shopkeeper simply nodded back, but the other grinned widely, before walking forward. "Urdnot Wrex! What a surprise to see you here. Jurdon Congath here was just saying he got a tip for the tournament from you."

Wrex shot the shopkeeper a flat look, who simply shrugged in response. Their clans might not be even friendly opponents on Tuchanka, but out here, among the bastards that had neutered their race, every professional krogan at least tried to be less hostile to each other. "Well, you did."

Wrex really didn't care much for the blademaster, he was too loud outside of combat for his tastes, but he was also one of the few krogan Wrex trusted in a fight without reservation. "Can this wait, Fel? I got business with Congath."

Fel nodded, and stepped to the side. "Thanks for taking a look at that blade, Congath. I would, but I don't have much time for restoring old relics like that one anymore."

Wrex rolled his eyes, but stepped up and dropped the container he had been carrying. "Finally found something worth your time, Congath."

The ancient krogan behind the counter glared at Wrex with his one good eye, keeping the cybernetic on Fel. "First time hearing that from you. What do you have?"

Wrex smirked at the best krogan armor and weapon restoration expert in Citadel space, before pulling out the old set of family armor. "Just a little something I found while roaming around the galaxy with the human Spectres."

Fel swore under his breath as he saw the armor. "Damn Wrex, is that one of the sets of Battlemaster armor actually made by krogans? Hell, I thought they had all been destroyed at the end of the Rebellion."

Wrex smirked. "I found it. Well Congath? Think you can restore it?"

The ancient krogan, almost old enough to have fought in the Krogan Rebellions, laughed. "And make all those weakling Council races piss themselves seeing updated, original Battlemaster armor on a krogan? Hell, for that, I would do it for less than I normally charge."

The merchant paused, before staring at Wrex. "Two percent off."

Fel burst out laughing, as Wrex's jaw dropped. "You miserly plategouger! Twenty percent, you are going to be working on a legend here."

"You are right, it should have been one percent, but I have good memories of that armor line. Unlike you, you little bastard of Kalros. Four percent."

"You pyjak excrement. This is an original battlemaster armor, not one of those piece of crap knock offs the Council races make to swindle young, impressionable krogan. Seventeen percent off."

It took nearly twenty minutes before the two reached a price they could agree on, and decide what upgrades Wrex wanted in the armor. Once that was done, Fel slung an arm around Wrex's shoulders, ignoring the disgusted look Wrex gave him, before 'directing' Wrex toward a bar next door. "So, what is this about suggesting krogan not bet on the only krogan in the tournament worth a damn?"

Wrex snorted as the two took a seat. "Heard clans Nakmor, Gatagog, and Khel had someone competing too, not just your clan, Fel."

Raik Fel laughed loud and long, before shaking his head as he turned to wave down one of the servers. "I said worth a damn!"

Liara stalked out of the law firm that had served her family for nearly a millennia, before finally relaxing. "Goddess, I knew that was going to be unpleasant."

She looked around, and spotted Tali sitting on a bench nearby. A few steps, and she sat on the bench beside her best friend, and sighed. "Glad that is over with."

Tali looked over, her head tilted slightly. "What was that about anyway? You visited the Asari embassy and spent two hours talking with the head diplomat there, and then came straight here for another hour and a half. It is nearly lunch time."

Liara rolled her neck, trying to loosen her muscles. "Dealing with a potential problem. Hopefully my measures won't be needed. It is mostly asari law and politics, but if you want to know, I can tell you."

She glanced at the young quarian beside her, who considered the question carefully before shaking her head. "I doubt it would make sense to me. Ready to get some new-"

Tali was cut off by Liara's omnitool suddenly emitting a couple phrases of classical asari music, making Liara jump. She glanced at the message she had just received, before groaning. "This chore will not end. I hope the Twins appreciate what I am trying to do. Tali, do you want to come, or would you rather we meet up later?"

"Where are you going?"

"The Consort wishes to see me for lunch in half an hour."

Tali choked on her tongue before she nodded, the two of them standing and heading back toward the Presidium. Liara glanced at a map on her omnitool, then at the time, before directing Tali to one of the rapid transport terminals. "I think being early is better than being late."

Ten minutes later, the two stepped up to the entrance of the Consort's Academy. Tali took a seat at one of the benches in front of the building. "I will wait here. Have fun."

Liara gave her friend a snort of amusement, before entering the Academy. She nodded to the greeter, who smiled pleasantly. "Ah, Dr. T'soni, I am Nelyna. You are early, if you will wait a moment, I will inform the Consort you are here."

Liara nodded, and the asari acolyte touched her head, before murmuring a couple words into a hidden communicator. A few seconds later, Nelyna looked up. "Apologies, Dr. T'soni, but the Consort is with a client. Could I offer you refreshments or a place to sit while you wait?"

She accepted a cup of surprisingly good tea, a human blend called Earl Grey Amethyst, making a mental note to look into adding it to her supply on the Normandy, and waited. Fifteen minutes later, an older, dignified turian male limped out of the back hallway with assistance from a cane, and nodded to Nelyna, before departing. A minute later, Nelyna approached her. "She is ready to meet you now. If you would follow acolyte Mythira, she will lead you to Sha'ira."

It was a short walk, though one that took far longer in Liara's mind. She knew why she was here, she just hadn't expected a response to her maneuver so quickly. She had her arguments and counter points already lined up, but the quality of her opponent had rattled her slightly. Still, she gathered her pride and lineage about her, before taking a silent but deep breath to settle her nerves, before entering the room Mythira had stopped in front of. She entered and saw the Consort already sitting at a couch in front of a table, reading a dataslate as she sipped at a cup. The Consort looked up as the asari maiden entered, and put the dataslate onto the table before standing to greet her. "Dr. Liara T'Soni, thank you for agreeing to this meeting with so little forewarning."

Liara took a second to get control of herself, as she realized that the Consort was absolutely gorgeous, a classically beautiful body under a sheer but simple dress, which hinted at its contents without actually showing anything. Her sapphire eyes impaled the young asari, a 'young' matriarch in her lair, fully in control of the situation. Liara finally got her voice back, and gave the Consort a precisely measured bow. "When the Consort requests someone's attention, she gets it. I suspect I know why I am here, but I will admit surprise that you are the executor of the family's estates."

Sha'ira smiled softly, and gestured to the couch across from her. "Please sit. I am quite interested in hearing why you have begun the process to legally remove your mother from her position as head of the T'Soni lineage. She was a close friend before I became the Consort."

Liara took the offered seat, and smiled slightly, forcing herself to relax. "Because Saren is using my mother's influence and assets to cause problems for the civilized galaxy. If my mother responds to my challenge, she has to return to either the Citadel or Thessia to respond to the legal inquiry into her recent actions, where she can be arrested and questioned about her involvement in Saren's crimes. If not, she loses access to the funds and influence she is using to assist him. Either way, Saren is hamstrung and loses a significant advantage."

Jaclyn made her last purchase, to be delivered to the Normandy, where the group would be meeting to watch the tournament with the rest of the ship's crew. The had underestimated the price hike for renting buildings during a major tournament, one of three that happened on the Citadel throughout the year. It was considerably more expensive than they had budgeted for, so the optimal solution was to convert the mess hall into a lounge for a few days, and enjoy watching people beating the crap out of each other with holographic swords. Or as much as people could considering the blades would harmlessly shatter on contact.

She did have to admit that watching Arlas use his swords had improved her thoughts on melee weapons in combat, though she still thought they were at best a tertiary weapon at best, rather than purely ceremonial and for people lost in the past. Though she did have a tiny urge of picking up something bigger and more impressive, and use it in conjunction with her biotic charges and novas to shatter squads at a time; maybe some kind of two handed hammer, like what she had seen a krogan using on a show once as a kid…

Shaking off the thought, she noted Ashley was nearly to her, and nodded to the marine. "Done?"

"Yep, got a decent set of armor picked out. Thanks for suggesting that merchant, by the way."

Jaclyn shrugged as they set off to a rapid travel terminals. "No problem. Anything to keep the Doc off my back because people keep trying to imitate me and getting hurt."

That got a dry chuckle from the marine, but conversation petered out as they got into the cab. Five minutes later, they were setting down outside C-Sec, and a quick elevator ride brought them up to the docking bay. Once there, though, she felt her face break out into a huge grin at the sight of someone leaning against the railing, looking over the ship. She was an older human woman, about Doctor Chakwas' age, wearing a set of casual clothes, pants and a simple shirt under a leather jacket, and had a pistol on her hip and was typing away at her omnitool. She ignored the sudden falter in Ashley's stride, lengthening her own to get right up in front of the woman and execute a textbook salute, who paused in her typing to look up at the Commander though her thin eyebrows, one elegantly raised, and her full lips twitching into a familiar small smirk. "Captain Mom."

The woman's face suddenly transformed into a snarl of anger, as she snapped off her omnitool and looked Jaclyn Shepard in the eye. "Am I in uniform? No? Then why are you using a rank and saluting, girl?"

The commander simply laughed at the woman's exaggerated anger, and pulled the older woman into a hug. "Because it annoys you, mom. And that is the right of every daughter: to annoy and exasperate their mother."

The woman returned the bone creaking hug with one of her own, before pushing her daughter back to look her up and down. "Damn right. Just like it is my right to horrify and embarrass you. Oh, and I got your… 'gift.'"

Jaclyn didn't bother looking concerned over her mother's shift of tone to slightly ominous at the mention of the gift, and simply laughed. "You loved it, don't lie."

Ashley finally got close enough to join the conversation, but she kept gazing at the woman then at Jaclyn, before going back again, like she had seen a ghost. "Commander, who is… this?"

Jaclyn turned, letting the younger marine see the almost uncanny resemblance between the two. "Captain Mom, this is Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. Ashley, this is Captain Hannah Shepard, XO of the SA dreadnought Kilimanjaro. Also my mom. Oh, and Joannis' mother too, I guess."

Her grin only got wider when Hannah slapped her across the back of her head. "Be nice, she is your sister."

"Yes ma'am."

"Speaking of which, where is she? And can I get a tour while we wait for her to get back?"

"Dunno, and no, because you hit me."

Joannis glared at Arlas as he allowed the power in his cloak to dissipate. "You ditched me. Because of a bunch of reporters."

Arlas shrugged, not concerned about his apparent desertion of his ally to avoid that mob. He had recognized the breed from the original universe, and found the idea of simply avoiding them appealing. A quick pulse of power to his cloak, a use of his grappling hook, and he was away from them, leaving Joannis to avoid and deal with them as best she could. It had still taken her fifteen minutes to get free of the reporters, and he had joined her again near a rapid transit terminal. She tapped at it a couple times, before frowning. "Damn, terminal is down. Ah, I see, C-Sec has locked all the terminals in the area down. Well, we can walk a bit. Assuming you aren't afraid of the mon-keigh crowds."

He raised an eyebrow inside his helmet. "Can't you override it?"

"No, because you ditched me."

Arlas accepted the reply, and simply followed along as she effortlessly navigated the strangely designed station. After a few minutes of following, he finally sighed. "Who designed this madness place?"

"Protheans. According to the Asari."

He snorted in disdain, unable to suppress his instinctive reaction to that thought. "Then where are they? I need to express my displeasure at their lack of intelligible design."

"The asari think they wiped themselves out in a civil war. We on the Normandy know better, though."

He just nodded at her comment, remembering the Reapers, and they stepped through a door into another section of the Citadel. She glanced at her omnitool, before nodding. "Alright, another two hundred meters, and we should find…"

Arlas suddenly felt a spike in his dangersense, and whirled, drawing both his power sword and pistol, causing Joannis to jump as he slipped into a defensive stance. She stared at what he had turned to confront whatever he had sensed, before choking back amusement. "Arlas, that is a Keeper. They are harmless. You were on the Citadel before, you must have seen one."

He stared at the creature, idly shaking his head. "No, I must have somehow avoided them."

It was an unusual creature, a bulbous, mottled green insectoid with four arms, four legs, and a two massive, dead, black eyes on its tiny head at the end of a long, flexible neck. It had some kind of metal pack on its back and its hands were working a hologram interface of some kind, but its head had turned almost completely around, staring at him. He blinked, and suddenly recoiled as its throat opened up near the base of its head, revealing rows of needle sharp fangs lining the inside of the neck that wouldn't have looked out of place on a tyranid, and it hissed at him while brandishing claws that would have impressed a lictor. He backed away a step, before suddenly realizing the creature had no mouth and hadn't moved, though it was still tracking his every moment. Clearly he had had a vision of some sort.

A quick glance around showed two more in the area, both of them staring at him, and he shuddered slightly. It was like being surrounded by tyranid genestealers, who weren't bothering to attack, just watch while other organisms moved into range to assist. He turned his head slightly to Joannis, putting the sword away, but kept his pistol in hand as he tried to keep all three insectoids in view. "We need to leave. Now."

She shrugged, unaware of the vision he had had. "They are Keepers. Utterly harmless, they only keep the Citadel running and repaired. Big fine for messing with them, as it kills them."

She frowned, before turning around. "Weird, they are all looking at you though, they have aggressively ignored anyone on the Citadel before. Whatever, almost to the terminal."

He reluctantly put the pistol back onto his thigh, but kept one hand on the grip. But as they made their way to the terminal, he couldn't help but notice there was now always at least one Keeper in the room he was in, and it was always staring at him. It was almost as unnerving as Joannis taking the sudden interest in stride with barely a comment about it. He resolved to not relax until they were in the Normandy.

The next day, Joannis was in the mess hall with the entire crew of the Normandy, including Joker and Doctor Chakwas. The supplies the Commanders had been picking up the day before were opened, the last of the Thresher Maw meat was being grilled, and everyone was having a good time. The air was energized, like right before a big biotic-ball game. Garrus was debating the likelihood of melee weapons making a return to actual combat with Wrex and Ashley, Kaidan and Liara were discussing ways a biotic could use a combat blade, Tali was enjoying a dextro ration pack and talking about an improvement to the engines with Adams and the rest of the engineers, and the rest of the crew were scattered about the mess hall, too far for her to hear. She was sitting with her twin and mother, watching the screen, having already tuned to the extranet address that would be showing the tournament room where Arlas would be fighting.

He had been dropped off an hour before, giving her plenty of time to get back. She looked up, and then stood up and whistled loudly. "Everyone, they are finally getting started."

Everyone immediately shut up, and watched the parade of fighters into the arena. There were humans, turians, asari, salarians, a handful of drell, a single krogan, and a couple of quarians. Arlas was easy to spot, at first because he towered over the other competitors, but then because he was one of the few combatants that wasn't wearing his tabard and had pulled his bodysuit down to his waist, showing off his lean figure and almost sculpted muscles. One of the crew called for the VI to zoom in on Arlas, and then third the crew was laughing while the rest whistled and catcalled, before someone called out to Joannis. "Commander Joannis, I thought you said he was taking this seriously?"

Joannis laughed and shrugged. "That is what he said. I didn't realize that meant he was seriously turning himself into a sex icon."

As the fighters on screen dispersed to the various waiting areas about the room, the announcer for the channel shifted the camera's focus, and began discussing the various notable fighters. Arlas wasn't one of them, due to not having a known history. After a few minutes showing and talking about the competitors, the tournament's schedule for the room they were watching came up, and they saw it would be several matches before Arlas got his first fight of the five he would get today, if he wasn't eliminated. Hannah turned back to her daughters, a cheshire grin on her face. "So?"

Both her daughters turned annoyed glares at her, fully understanding the innuendo laden subtext hidden within that one word. "Not interested." "Too arrogant."

The Twins only got more suspicious when her grin got even wider. "Really? Then you won't mind me… 'talking' to him then."

The Twins both spoke at the same time. "Eww. Don't need to know what you are doing at night mom."

Thankfully no one else was close enough to hear, otherwise they might have seen both indomitable Commanders getting handily beaten in a conversation by their mother. More thankfully, Arlas' name was finally announced, drawing everyone's attention back to the screen, as an asari matron wearing high quality, customized leather dueling armor stepped onto the ring where Arlas already was.

Arlas stared at his opponent, ignoring the VI announcing the competitors. He didn't know this creature, and didn't want to know her either. A mental sigh flickered through his mind as he waited for the fight to start, realizing he was starting to identify the mon-keigh with more specific eldar terms in his mind. It was a sign of a lack of discipline, and that he was getting to familiar with them. He needed to keep his distance, so he could kill them later without qualms should the craftworld require it. He knew the Twins, at very least, were extremely likely to be targets of eldar Pathfinders, especially if their psyker talents ever went active, which he was now convinced were latent and boosting their biotics. By Khaine's sword, most of the ground team, other than Kaidan and Ashley, or Anvil, were high priority targets if their species ever became hostile to the eldar. And knowing his luck, and what the Elder Seers Council thought of him, he was going to be the one selected to take them out.

Shaking off such cheery thoughts, he looked at his opponent, who was glaring hatefully at him. He tilted his head a tiny fraction of a degree, causing the asari to start speaking. "I am Matron Sula Wysius, chosen champion of the asari of planet Zesmeni. You stand there, having insulted our beloved, wise, benevolent leader, as if unaware of the depths of your crime."

Realizing the asari was lost in her own fantasies, he looked at the nearby salarian judge, catching the judge rolling his eyes. "Have we started?"

The judged nodded, making Arlas sigh as he turned his attention back to the asari. "-worse, you stand there, barbarian, oblivious to the effect upon the true civilized people-"

Arlas sighed, before tapping his foot twice. "Bored now."

His opponent didn't hear him, too busy ranting about 'deceiving the youth with his fake muscles.' His hand snapped to the holoblade copy of his power sword, grabbing the weapon in a reverse hold, before drawing and flinging the hilt at the oblivious asari, blade first. She managed to declare that she would punish him for Tevos in the name of Athame, right before the orange holographic blade hit her in the throat, exploding into motes of light. The hilt then slammed into her throat, thankfully silencing the speech.

"Point for Arlas. Victory to Arlas."

He was surprised as the VI announced his victory, not expecting his attack to have counted. He collected the hilt with a shrug, and put it back in its sheath, before turning and leaving his gaping, gasping opponent to stare hatefully at his retreating back.

The Normandy's crew was laughing so hard that some of them had fallen off the benches at the tables. Servicewoman Gernado managed to gasp out, "Oh, god, he is getting all the weirdos."

Joannis had to agree. The matches after the first would show a highlight move or two from the competitor's previous matches, letting the viewers see a bit about the fighters. Arlas' second opponent after the asari had been a human in a black tuxedo, wearing a top hat, monocle and silvery cape and wielding a sword cane. The human had shown some skill in his first fight, but had underestimated the strength hidden in the eldar's wiry frame, a single swipe of the eldar's blade knocking the sword cane from the human's hands, before the backhand had hit the human in the neck.

His third opponent had been a salarian acrobat with a salarian whip sword, annoyingly good at staying away from his opponents and striking from odd angles with the whip to advance two rounds. Arlas had simply tangled the whip blade up in the holographic chainsaw sword, then yanked the far lighter salarian into range to strike at the flying, helpless salarian's neck.

Arlas' fourth opponent had been a turian bladesman with a second smaller blade for blocking, who had surprised nearly everyone when the blade of the blocking dagger suddenly launched from the hilt. Garrus had later identified the knife as a turian special forces knife, meant for silent, short ranged kills, before idly mentioning those were a controlled weapon. Arlas had simply flicked his head to the side, his expression still neutral, letting the knife fly by. Before the turian could reform the dagger blade, Arlas had yanked his chainblade from its sheath, and then sliced the holographic blade into the turian's knee, before making his now customary strike at his opponent's neck with the straight blade.

But it was the fifth opponent that had everyone laughing, a human as tall as Arlas and muscled like a bodybuilder, wielding a two handed sword as tall as he was. The man was clearly a fan of unarmed combat and bodybuilding, but it was the catchphrase with goofy poses and facial expressions that had everyone falling over. "The name, is Recoome! It rhyyyyyyyymes, with Doom! And you'rrrrrrre… gonna to be hurtin'. All. Too. SOON!"

Arlas, however, was clearly getting tired of the people trying too hard to be memorable, and had simply sprinted forward, horrifyingly fast, and punched his opponent in the gut before Recoome could react. The human had fallen over like a felled elephant, curled up with his arms around his gut, face buried in the mat, whimpering and shaking, as Arlas drew his blade and swiped once. Done with his final opponent of the day, he left the arena without a look back, pulling up his body glove from around his waist.

Joannis looked about the room, before standing up. "Everyone, I have an announcement to make."

It took the room a few minutes to quiet down. Once it did, she continued. "Wrestling is fake."

That sent everyone right back into hysterics, though a couple of the bolder crewmen and women booed at her and launched pieces of popcorn at her. She let it continue a moment, before continuing. "Now on to actual comments. First, we have just seen how an eldar fights seriously, so stop pissing him off. Second, be sure to offer our local celebrity congratulations for making it through the first day of rounds. Tomorrow will be the last four matches of the elimination rounds, before they get to the final sixty four competitors. After that, only the good, skilled, and serious fighters will be left. But right now, he went from being one of almost thirty thousand contestants to one of a little more than a thousand.

"But first, we have a mess hall to clean up. Once I get a copy of tomorrow's tournament schedule, I will push it out to the crew."

Jaclyn stood up, to inject her own comment. "Ladies and other crew members, I just checked Arlas' odds, and now that the bookies have a record of his skill to watch and base his odds on, they have put his odds at one to thirteen, down significantly from the one in ten thousand max it had been at. If that doesn't seem impressive, remember that Raik Fel, current champion and has been a champion for four hundred twenty odd of the last five hundred or so tournaments, has his odds at twenty to twenty one. The remaining best seeds' odds for the Council seated races are, in order of asari, turian and salarian, one to four, one to seven, and two to eleven. And the best seed for the humans is at one to twenty nine. So, for those of us that bet on Arlas when he had the maxed out odds, good for us, we are all gonna be filthy rich assuming he doesn't choke. For those that bet against him and want to get on the bandwagon now, well… sucks being you."

One of the security detail marines waved. "What does best seed mean?"

"In this case it means that is the individual most likely to win based on analysis, for a specific race. Now get to cleaning people."

Two days later, Arlas was sitting in the waiting room for the tournament, trying to decide it he was disappointed or not. He had had nine fights so far, and only two of them, a salarian with a long whip based blade, and the turian with the spring loaded knife, had been even worth drawing his blade, though the human in formal wear might have been worthy if he had known more about the eldar. He could have beaten the others without drawing his blade, and in fact had done so on the second day, hoping for a challenge. None of his four competitors the previous day had even broken his stride, three asari and another salarian, memorable only in that they were beaten by an opponent that hadn't drawn a blade, instead taking their own and using it to finish them.

While he knew the first nine rounds were meant to separate those with with skill from those with money and delusions, he had at least been expecting something impressive from one of them. Today he was fighting two asari, he had seen the tournament schedule, and they were the only possibilities. After that, things diversified a bit, but he did notice that nearly half of the sixty four remaining contestants were asari. He suspected they were tampering with the tournament layout to try and boost their chances of getting someone into the finals. He snorted at the sudden memory of Jaclyn taunting him about picking on children the previous day, secretly amused by the truth her comment had held.

Arlas stood up smoothly as the VI in the room called his name, and his opponent's name, one Lyla Astayothia. He knew most biotics abilities were prohibited if they directly affected the opponent, so he wasn't concerned about them. A quick walk took him to the far side of the mat they were using, more than twice the size of the previous mats going from five meters to a side to ten meters, but as he stepped into the ring, he suddenly whirled about, feeling hostile eyes on his back.

A keeper was in the corner of the room, working on one of the ubiquitous hologram terminals only they could access, but once again this one was staring at him with its dead eyes, ignoring the terminal it was working on. He stared at it for a moment, experiencing a sudden burst of anger that didn't feel normal to him, too diffused, but forced himself to focus on the tournament as the judge called his name again. He could hear the crowd murmuring, his superior hearing picking out many of the mon-keigh (second lightest meaning) noticing the keeper staring at him like a predator, something they didn't do to any other race, and gossiping about it. He schooled his features back to their usual neutral visage, before stepping into the ring.

The ring had two salarian judges now, rotating every other set among eight total judges, to assist with the VI running analysis and point allocation. The judges were simply to verify the VI was running properly, after previous tournament where a salarian had hacked the VI to give him points when he 'broke' his hacked blade pushing and holding the holoblade's activation button. The salarian had gotten to the quarter finals before being caught.

His opponent, however, was the first one that made him feel a flicker of hope. A young asari, not overly endowed like most of her kind, though still a bit large like she had given birth recently, but instead looking appropriately female to his eyes, wearing a sensible body glove with some armored padding. She met his eyes and nodded once, before dropping her gaze to about his collar bone. He frowned slightly before returning the nod, and dropping to a ready position, noting her activating her own blade, but not moving her eyes from his collar. He suddenly realized that she was trained to watch the chest of the opponent, rather than the eyes like an eldar would be, to determine what the opponent would do next.

Both judges raised their hands, announcing a competitor with each raised hand to designate which was tied to which person, before dropping both and beginning the match. "BEGIN!"

Arlas had to jump back, the asari maiden suddenly inside his guard, stabbing at his chest with her blade. He had barely blinked, but managed to get his own blade around to deflect her blade, but before he could counter attack, she flashed away, revealing she was using biotic charges to close and evade. He let a small smile grace his face as he whirled to face the asari, giving her the tiniest nod of respect, having finally found an opponent worth fighting. He had known there had to be someone in the tournament.

Jaclyn watched the fight with a frown, idly tapping her datapad. "Well, that was unexpected."

Hannah glanced at her 'oldest' daughter, by one minute and seven seconds, before smirking. "What, that a vanguard can learn to use a sword? Honestly, my first thought when you did your first charge in front of me was 'why didn't she show more interest in that fencing class I tried to get her in?'"

Joannis snickered at the offended look on her twin's face, but continued to watch, wincing as Arlas caught his opponent with a gut punch before stabbing his sword against her head. Jaclyn shook her head as the fighters returned to their starting positions. "No, the interest keepers have in him. Anyone else so much as looks at them funny, they fall over dead. Him, they watch like Wrex is watching that last Thresher Maw steak."

Wrex snorted in amusement, before standing to go and grab the last steak in question. Jaclyn turned back to the screen, before nodding as the asari gave Arlas a glancing blow to his shoulder, enough to cause her holoblade to shatter, giving her a point. Arlas murmured something to her, too softly for the microphones to pick up, but it put a small smile on the young asari's face for a second. "One to one, game point. Are we about to see Arlas choke?"

That got a dark chuckle from some of the group, though Wrex snarled something unpleasant in krogan. Before they could get more information from him, the judges restarted the match. The asari biotically charged past Arlas, dodging a quick strike of the eldar's sword, but as she charged back to try for a backstab, she found him crouched down, chest almost brushing the ground, and his sword shattering as she came out of the charge in the space where his blade was. Joannis laughed. "Nope."

It was amusing to hear the gossiping of the announcers as Arlas saluted the young asari, one Lyla Astyonthia. Liara was subdued when questioned, replying that she had never heard of the lineage.

It was with some surprise that when the matches restarted an hour later, Arlas was the first one out, facing another asari, though this one was using a traditional school of blade work rather than the more fluid, almost self-taught version the vanguard had been. It also didn't take long for Arlas to bypass her rigid form, flowing effortlessly around the asari and eliminate her from the tournament. This time Arlas simply left the mat, done with his two matches of the day.

Arlas took a long, calming breath, reflecting on the tournament so far. In his mind there had been three, possibly four fighters actually worthy of being called swordsmen, or women. The young asari on the first day of the actual tournament, he didn't count the elimination rounds, a drell on the second day, and the quarian he had defeated the day before had even required one of his 'special' moves that he had been saving for the finals. The possibility was a turian that the quarian had fought on the second day, the two had fought for nearly ten minutes before the first point was given out. It was a pity that Arlas kept getting talentless asari hacks that thought a traditional blade form made them competent. Aware of the hypocrisy in the thought, as the Striking Scorpion shrine was at least six thousand years old in his craftworld alone, and the Howling Banshee even older, he stood as the VI announced his name.

His opponent had been called out before, the krogan blademaster Raik Fel was the sort of skilled threat Arlas thought he had left behind with the more aged and veteran Adeptus Astartes, according to the videos he had seen. Fast and skilled enough to possibly keep up with an eldar, and he suspected the krogan was also slightly stronger when in a blood rage. The regen of a krogan only got better the older they got, at least for 'minor' wounds, so this blade master would likely keep a senior aspect warrior of the Striking Scorpions or Howling Banshee busy for a while, if not win against them.

And Arlas had to take him in three of five bloodings. This was going to be 'fun.'

He had heard the arena resound with vocal recognition of Fel when he had come out, and the announcers had spent almost five minutes recounting his various successes. What he was not expecting was the arena to also welcome him as he exited, to the announcement of being the 'dark bet challenger.' He also couldn't help but notice that most of his support seemed to be coming from human females and asari, though he spotted a number of turian and drell as well, and ignored the signs and calls for him to 'marry them,' idly wondering about the gender imbalance in his support as he walked up to the stage and jumped on, not bothering to wait for the announcers to finish. Fel just laughed as he watched the eldar, before thumping his fists together. "Alright. Finally, the fight I have been looking forward to! To a glorious fight, between two masters of the blade. May our battle be epic, worthy of inclusion in the annals of our lives!"

"Actually, I am just a journeyman by my people's standards."

Technically true, he had been accomplished enough to be allowed on the field with other Striking Scorpions, but he had not been cleared for such a designation by his exarch before she had been killed. It had been his first mission, to see if he would earn it. That he had survived when the others hadn't made his actual Striking Scorpion position… debatable.

The impact it had on Fel was amusing. "Wait, you are still trying to solidify your style?"

Then Fel started laughing, long and loud. "Oh, this is simply perfect! I get to test out my skills against one who is still testing his own. I can't wait for your people to arrive, can you introduce me when they do? If you are considered competent, I want to fight some of the best! Judges, get this started, before one of us does!"

Arlas chuckled softly, drawing his holographic power blade as Fel drew his hand and a half sword, both settling into guard positions. Fel with his sword backwards, left shoulder leading, allowing surprisingly quick sweeping strikes from the right side or a ferocious charge. Arlas with his blade low, his body crouched, ready to move in any direction.

The judges shared a glance, before doing their customary raise hand, announce a name, raise the other and announce the other, before all eight dropped both arms, and yelled. "Begin!"

Arlas swore and rolled to his right to avoid a charge from the krogan, rapidly revising his opponent's speed and threat level. Higher. Significantly so.

Joannis had joined the rest of the crew in the mess hall, and was enjoying the fight. So far Arlas had been completely defensive, though she didn't think it was desperate yet. He was simply observing his opponent, letting Fel tire himself out a bit. Wrex, however, was just chuckling, and that got her curious. "What are you amused about Wrex?"

A malicious grin flashed her way. "Arlas is on his way to losing."

She raised an eyebrow as Arlas suddenly attacked, forcing Fel back a couple steps, before the two began carefully trading blows, now both trying to get a measure for their opponent. "What do you mean? His strategy was sound."

"First, krogan don't get tired from those little attacks. And second, Fel has the rarest form of bloodrage."

The crew all glanced at him, and he sighed before continuing, though he continued to watch the fight. "There are four forms of blood rage for the krogan. The most common increases regeneration, but its largest benefit stiffens muscles, ligaments, and cartilage attached to our plates to make them better resist impacts, but causes you to succumb to fury. You are practically feral, unable to think clearly. The next most common does the impact resist thing, but the regen growth is obscene, you will fire a high end assault rifle at these guys and they will laugh it off, though they are consumed by their rage as well. I got the third type, which is the second rarest, I know five other krogan with or had it; basically the second, but without the all consuming rage."

He nodded to the screen as Fel suddenly feinted a powerful swipe of his blade, before jabbing with his fist, catching Arlas in his bicep as he tried to block the feint. Knocked out of position and forced to dodge, but was unable to completely avoid it, the edge of the blade catching him, giving Fel the first point. "Fel's blood rage is the rarest, and he might be the only one I know with it. All the benefits of mine, but it also boosts his reaction times and speeds. It's why he is such a good swordsman. The harder the fight, the more his blood pumps, until it finally makes him almost unstoppable. I've seen a video of him killing a Mindoir stone bear with only a blade, and those things have killed military grade tanks before. And the crew inside them. And the infantry platoon escorting them."

The time the exchange started off quickly, Arlas drawing his chain blade in his off hand, and attacking Fel with both blades in rapid succession, forcing the laughing krogan backwards. The laughing paused as Arlas abruptly tossed the chain blade in an upward path, almost straight up, but with too much forward momentum to be useful unless Fel kept giving ground. The canny krogan immediately saw the gamble, and dug his feet in, forcing Arlas to a standstill as the two fought viciously, sword meeting sword, the eldar never getting into a strength contest, instead parrying, deflecting, and diverting Fel's blade in an attempt to get an opening.

Until Arlas suddenly jumped backwards, an aura of white gathering in his off hand. Fel had just enough time to realize what the eldar was doing, before the thrown chain blade hit him in the back, shattering into motes of light. The krogan's face turned offended, and he turned back to glare at the hilt on the ground, which suddenly flew around him to land in Arlas' hand. Arlas gave him a quick smirk as he put the hilt back into its sheath, before Fel suddenly burst out laughing. "That was brilliant! Again!"

Wrex rolled his eyes, as Joannis laughed. "That is what he was practicing in the hold last week. I was wondering why he was doing that."

This time the two combatants circled each other, both darting in for a single quick strike, and then back out. They spent nearly a minute probing each other, the time between their strikes rapidly increasing, until Arlas suddenly struck a second time, forcing Fel back. Fel let him advance, giving ground slowly, parrying or blocking each move, until he suddenly jumped back, just enough to get out of range of a powerful swipe by Arlas. The eldar had expected the krogan to block again, putting more force to try and jar his arm, and didn't have full control of his strike as it suddenly went further than expected. Fel lunged back in, and Arlas dodged the strike by dropping to the ground, but couldn't roll out of the way fast enough to avoid being hit by the follow up strike.

The two returned to their starting positions, the score now one for the eldar, two for the krogan. All Joannis knew was that she was not going to let Arlas to live down Fel getting two hits on him after all the smack talk he had been doing about the tournament.

Arlas was quietly furious with himself, but forced himself to calm. Instead, he took a deep breath, and channeled his psyker abilities inward, boosting himself and then carefully activating his fore-sense. It wouldn't last long, only two minutes at most, as he lacked runes, a circle, or a proper meditative state, but it would be enough. He settled into a wide stance, legs spread slightly wider than his shoulders, right shoulder and foot towards Fel. He pulled off the chain blade sheath, and tossed it out of the ring, easily flying out of the lightly padded, thirty meter by thirty meter arena. Done setting up, he grabbed the sheath with one hand before he removed it from his belt, and the blade's hilt with the other, his entire body twisted like a coiled serpent. It was a move the Howling Banshees did, not the Striking Scorpions, but his sister had been an expert at it, and he had seen her practice the strike enough to do it himself. Not to her standards, but he never had the talent for the banshee shrine.

Fel immediately jumped backwards as Arlas set his stance, recognizing the danger of it. The quarian had been defeated with such a move, not realizing the danger inherent in the stance, but Fel had seen the recording. What Fel hadn't seen was the effect of the psyker boost and guidance ability would have on it. Fel nodded to Arlas, neither aware of anything outside their opponent. The crowd, the judges, the cameras, the pressure to win. All of it was gone. Arlas would wait for Fel to come to him, or try throwing his only blade, and they both knew Arlas would be fast enough to dodge or deflect a thrown blade.

Fel could not stop laughing in his head. If this was the skill of a 'mere' eldar journeyman swordsman, he had to fight one of their experts, or even a master if he could. But right now, he was focused on the stance in front of him, and knew it was a threat. He had his sword, and that was it, having not considered needing a second blade before in the tournament. A mistake he wouldn't do again. A thrown knife before a charge would break that stance, but couldn't help him now.

He sighed, analyzing the stance, before nodding, and shifted his blade to a forward guard, before charging. He had two points before he lost. The eldar was on his last, and obviously considered this one his best skill, having only used it in the semi-finals, and immediately shifted to it now that his back was against the wall. As he charged, he forced his blood to boil over, and everything slowed down. His steps felt like they took a minute to land, but he could see everything the eldar was doing. And then he entered the eldar's, no, into Arlas' sword's reach, and the eldar simply moved.

Fel's sword was already striking, but he could tell, even as his own blade lashed out, he was too late. But he saw it, a weakness in the stance, how he telegraphed its start, Arlas' body twisting a tiny bit more backwards, showing his inexperience with the maneuver. No, two weaknesses, as the sword cleared the sheath, the blade tip catching slightly, the holoblade resisting breaking, but the eldar had to slow the strike because he couldn't reform the blade fast enough if it shattered. No, three weaknesses, as the holoblade shattered on his side, and the eldar struggled to stop the movement of his arm, even without the holosword's weight and mass, such was the sheer speed and momentum of the strike.

The the world slammed back into normal time, the blood rage passed, and Fel couldn't stop laughing out loud. "That was amazing! And you are only considered proficient? I need to sit down and talk with you later, preferably over drinks. But first, one final round, one final point! Both our species pride on the line! The title on one last exchange! But fuck that noise! We are warriors, what do we care about petty titles and pride of others? We fight because we love it! Once more, that same move. Cause I bet I can break it."

The eldar, damn his hide, just raised an eyebrow, making Fel want to fight him even more. "An impressive claim. If you can back it up."

Arlas turned away, before suddenly turning and taking up the stance again a modest distance from him. "If. Lets see if you are as good as you… think… you are."

Fel laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He laughed as his blood boiled over, and set himself, charging to meet the first real challenge he had met in a decade, his blade held high, ready to take on this delightfully impudent challenger. Because even if he lost, this Arlas had already earned at least some respect.

Arlas watched the laughing krogan Fel charge him, a tiny smirk on his lips. He would die before he admitted it, but Arlas was honestly enjoying himself. The krogan was so… delightfully straightforward. No innuendo, no hidden meanings, no politics. Fel just wanted to fight, prove his strength, and get stronger, and unlike an ork was smart enough to not do that by killing everything nearby that wasn't the same as him. While those were simplistic goals in life, that didn't mean Fel was simple, otherwise he wouldn't be this good with the blade. And Arlas would cheerfully admit Fel was better than him in his own head; Arlas was just abusing his better biology and psyker abilities to win. And his opponent's ego, of course, but that was a time honored eldar tradition.

Arlas wanted to prove he was competent, not just to these mon-keigh watching, but their leaders, and his own people. He wanted to serve his craftworld, prove he wasn't the Fool, for trying different things, even new things. That he wasn't a Failure, for surviving when so many others he had led and fought beside hadn't. That he wasn't a Deformed.

But most of all, he wanted to win. Then Fel was in position, closing much faster this time, as Arlas struck, his body uncoiling, the straight blade clearing its sheath slowly to ensure the pathetic holoblade didn't break, before slicing through the air, aiming at Fel's throat.

Fel felt his eyes widen as Arlas struck, even faster than before. He desperately tried to halt his advance, having been expecting the blow, and threw his weight backwards as the blade streaked upwards, an orange plane of light, angled toward his throat. He barely halted his forward momentum, and could feel the static charge of the blade as it sang past his throat, but the blade was intact as it passed, missing by the smallest of possibilities. "Hah! My victory!"

He stepped forward, bringing his blade down, a maniac grin on his face, and laughing all the while.

Arlas was a 'little' surprised the attack missed, but as the krogan proclaimed his victory, Arlas put his own vicious smile on. He ignored his right arm, holding the blade, instead suddenly bringing his left around and up. With a clench of his hand, suddenly an orange glowing blade sparked into life around the sheath, arcing directly toward Fel's chest.

Fel was already laughing far too hard, but as the eldar activated the sheath blade, he suddenly realized he had been played, right from the start, and wanted to laugh even harder. The real attack was the sheath blade, but the eldar had left it almost too late. He could see everything moving in perfect clarity, his own sword descending toward Arlas' shoulder as the eldar twisted slightly out of the way, giving him more time to strike, and the sheath coming about, frighteningly fast, for his chest, and he realized he had no idea which would hit first. It would be a victory chosen by the VI, by a few fractions of a second. And in that instant, only one thought was going through his head.

I want to win!

Arlas swore in his head as Fel's sword descended toward him, and put everything he had into his left arm. As he realized he had no idea who would hit first, only one thought was in his mind, his entire being focused on a single thought.

I want to win!

Motes of orange were everywhere, the two fighters in the finals having performed a 'mutual kill' on each other. The krogan staggering from the impact of the sheath against his side. And then the VI came over the speakers of the suddenly deathly quiet arena. "Point and match."

A/N - The Respite class space stations are a custom space station, smaller than the canonical Haven class, just like the Sanctuary class space stations are much larger custom ones. So don't go looking for details on them.

Also, due to lack of canon evidence to the contrary, krogan in this story live until they die from disease or battle. Or substance abuse. Time is not the enemy it is to most other races.

And a Dragonball Z abridged shoutout in there, among many others. I was really just having fun with the tournament. Oh, and Raik Fel belongs to the author 5th Legion, I just borrowed him to give Arlas a challenge for the last fight after all the goofs and weirdos. What? Who won? … Obviously, it was Recoome. :)

I tried some things with the tournament, as it was mostly for setting up important things later, and showing Arlas actually growing as a being. I am not sure they worked, but that is why we try things. The usual author requests go here. Favorite, Follow, and Review, as well as Vote on the Chaos Problem, but most importantly, enjoy.