"There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter."--Arnida Hyksos, Kahje Assassin's Guild


Thane sat at the tiny desk for a long time, in front of Shepard's laptop, even after he sent his message off to Kolyat.

He told him everything. His recruitment to Shepard's team on Illium, the lead-up to their meeting on the Citadel, and fight against the Collectors. Thane wasn't prideful about his accomplishments, but he wanted his son to know that redemption was always within reach.

He spoke about Irikah. When she went to the sea, Kolyat was only a child, with a child's understanding. Thane told him the same story he'd told Shepard, about when she stepped in between him and his target. How he saw her in the cross-hairs of his scope and wondered what kind of woman was willing to trade her life for a stranger's.

She had an innate goodness, a purity, that he'd also seen in Kolyat when he was a child.

(Hands reach up toward him. "I found this!" It's a rock with a fossilized seashell in it. Kolyat looks like he'll burst with excitement. "It's very nice. What will you do with it?" His son only laughs, and already his laugh sounds like Irikah's. "I found it for you, daddy!")

For ten years he'd lived in terror that the darkness and pain and death in the universe would snuff that out. Ruin his son like he felt for so long he'd been ruined.

With any luck, he'd saved him from that, and in the process saved himself. Which brought him to the present.

Thane slid back onto the ground, into the pool of light. He took a deep breath and released it, settling into a meditative position. His spirit reached for stillness that his mind could not grant.

When Irikah was taken from him the pain was indescribable. He walked around for years almost in a trance, wanting nothing but the sound of her voice and the touch of her hands.

It was not a feeling he wanted to share with his Siha, but he had entered into a relationship with her fully aware that he had a terminal illness. She was still young—barely a third into her potential lifespan. He would leave her, as Irikah had left him. Guilt wracked him, and there was no respite from it.

("Be alive with me." She says, laying a warm hand on his face. He turns into her touch for a moment, so needful of her comfort. But then his mind starts working again, and he catches her wrist, more roughly than he'd intended. "I can't let this happen, Siha. I'm dying." But of course it had happened already.)

Then there was a tiny snap-hiss, and in the stillness of the room it sounded like an explosion.

Thane was on his feet in an instant. The facility was completely empty except for him. He turned his concentration on the sound, and it became clearer. Radio chatter, so low it was barely audible. The laptop was not to blame, the intercom on their wall was silent. Thane froze. His jacket.

His handlers on Kahje had made the prototype reactive armor jacket especially for him. Its material was flexible when it moved slowly, but when it was compressed by an impact, its molecules locked together, spreading the blow over a wider area. The Cerberus team had been quite impressed with it, and wired his radio directly in. Fear slid down his spine. She wouldn't turn on her radio unless there was trouble.

His jacket was slung over a chair. The tiny device dangled from its collar. Thane put his face close and listened.

"...your han...head. You, frisk..."

It was an unfamiliar male voice, but the signal was very muffled.

"...idiot, Shepard...enemies...come out here without a..."

He was instantly in motion. He threw on a shirt, then his jacket. He threw the duffel bag onto their bed and pulled out his Mantis sniper rifle, and two Carnifax hand-cannons, and a handful of heat-sink cartridges.

Judging from how little he could hear, her ear-piece was inside her clothing somewhere, maybe in a pocket.

"You can get away with killing me, Balak, but if you murder all these scientists, the Turians are going to come down on you like a goddamned..."

Dr. T'Soni had a leak in her office somewhere, or she had sold Shepard out herself. But he would deal with her betrayal later. In the meantime, she was unarmed and this Balak was a notorious slaver and terrorist, with a personal grudge against her and eleven civilians to use as leverage.

Arashu, guide my hand. May my aim be true. Protect her as you protected your children from the storm. And Amonkira, let her abductors fall by my hand. I'm coming, Siha.

-

Balak led her across the dig-site, poking her in the back occasionally with his pistol for emphasis.

"...Turians are pretty goddamnned scary when they're mad, Balak."

"Shut up, Shepard! I don't care if the whole Turian fleet comes after me. You need to die, and I need to kill you. And your little friends are going with you. Move!"

Thankfully it was difficult to herd eleven near-hysterical people effectively. The facility was only a few minutes away on foot, and it was possible to see everything that was going on from above, but there was only one point of entry that she was aware of.

Eventually they arrived. This was the most recently excavated part of the site, and therefore the best place for an "accident". Cases of equipment were scattered around, and the huge generator for the archaeologists' lights and tech was against a retaining wall. Balak had stuck about fifteen pounds of explosives to it. He wasn't one for subtlety.

Balak's lieutenant that had frisked her earlier was prodding her into the center of the intersection. One of the human girls was sobbing loudly. For the first time since Balak had appeared, she was really nervous. She scanned the ruins, but there were no darting shadows, no scopes glimmering in the sunlight. And time seemed to be up.

The lieutenant put his pistol against her temple.

"On your knees, please, Shepard." Balak said, casually. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled in for the show.

Shepard drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Time seemed to slow, as it often did in these moments. Shepard exhaled slowly, and as her first knee touched the ground, the lieutenant's head turned into a fine red mist. Her hand shot out, pulling the pistol from the dead Batarian's hand even before he fell.

Shepard dove for cover behind a crate. There was a second crack from the sniper rifle and another Batarian fell.

"Go! Run!" Shepard screamed at the archaeological team. They scattered. One of Balak's men turned and aimed after them, but there was a third report from the rifle and he fell over into the sand.

For a few moments there was utter pandemonium. No one could figure out what direction the sniper was firing from. Even Balak had disappeared behind something.

She shoved her ear-piece back into her ear.

"Thane!"

"I'm here, Siha." His deep voice was measured, utterly calm.

Shepard looked at the pistol she'd taken off of the Batarian. She had twelve heat-sink rounds and there were seventeen men left.

"Can you see the researchers?" She said. Balak's men were now firing indiscriminately into the ruins.

"Yes. Heading for the elevator."

"Cover them. I'll draw Balak toward the other side."

"Siha!"

"Go!"

There was a long beat of silence.

"As you wish." He said, finally.

I'm sorry to leave you hanging, really! This segment was just getting to be too long for a single chapter. Quote re-purposed from Ernest Hemingway.