"S'not her."

"Are you sure?" Disappointment colored her voice sour.

"Keigan said blue umbreller, red kiosk. There's the shop and there's the umbreller, but whoever's under it's a mite too tall and fat." Sister leaned further out into the downpour, peering through the binocs. "And . . . greenish-like."

Astraea took the binocs from the girl and looked for herself through the curtain of perpetual rain. "A krogan."

"Oh!" exclaimed her companion, "Must be Mogo, then. Bossilb-I mean, Silva's right-hand varren, Keigan called'em. He finds the matches, Silva books the venue an' gets the right pockets to show up. The pockets with the most cash."

"Mogul?" A shock ran up her spine as memory once again tried to steal her composure. Anticipation followed it. If it had to not be Silva, Mogul was the next best thing. He'd surely know where to find Silva.

In their long conversations aboard the freighter, Astraea learned that Silva had branched out into promoting underground gladiatorial matches. And blood sport was ever popular.

The lucrative venture funded the rest of Silva's operation, which suffered from stiff competition with the Eclipse, Blood Pack and Blue Suns mercenaries, groups fast rising to the pinnacle of the muscle-for-hire business. Ever since that huge ship attacked the Citadel a few weeks ago, it appeared Council space wasn't as secure as the governments had hoped. The scavengers at the edges could smell weakness lightyears off.

The Dire Corbies' military dominance might be waning, but Silva had found another avenue of revenue in her close partnership with batarian slavers.

Astraea had been amazed at the little girl's knowledge of the ins and outs of Silva's organization. Particularly the bits she must have put together herself. It showed a startling intelligence, to say the least.

A tug on her wrist pulled her out of her thoughts. Sister smirked up at her. "So, what are we gonna do next?"

"We?" The justicar shook her head. "You are going to stay here, out of harm's way, while I go have a talk with Mogul."

"Aw, but I can help!" She bounced around Astraea, pleading her case, "He knows me. I can tell him Keigan wants to meet somewheres else. I can- I can-"

Astraea held her hands up to stop the girl's tirade. "It's too dangerous. I won't bring a child into battle, especially not one who's already suffered so much."

"But you can't fight him out here! Too many peoples! Too tight! Too small!" She had a point. Astraea paused to look at her omnitool where a layout of this drell community lay in bold orange. She highlighted an area of the spaceport wharves. It would be empty enough at this time of day. The workers will have quit for rest and rejuvenation, to be resumed at daybreak once again. But how to lure the krogan there? Quite unintentionally, her gaze fell upon Sister's upturned, hopeful face. The girl wheedled, "Pleeeeaaase?"

Should she stop treating Sister as a helpless child? Neither word defined the girl to her satisfaction. Again, her Code didn't have an answer for her. So, without prejudice of preconception, she looked at Sister with only an eye to ability. Sister looked back, a small, canny and dangerous survivor, asking for trust. Astraea's trust.

Which she found in herself a willingness to give. To a certain point. A reasonable point. "Alright," she started, but had to hold up a warning hand against the celebratory shout that might have burst from Sister's lips, "But only to tell him to go to the spaceport. Dockside, got it? Then you stay well away."

Sister nodded to show she understood, a fierce light in her eyes. Anticipation, and determination making her look all the more primal. She mussed her hair into a wild tangle and did the same to her clothes, tearing the sleeves a bit, before looking up at Astraea with a predator's cunning. "Can't look all neat. Mogo'll get suspicerous."

The justicar sighed. "I just bought you those. Fine. Go. Be quick. And Sister-"

The girl looked back, pausing in her mad scramble toward the waiting krogan.

"Be careful."

With a grin wide enough to show the missing teeth abreast of the front ones, Sister resumed her sprint.

Astraea watched her ward fly along the sidewalk, showing enormous courage approaching that brute with such zeal. Sister bounced into Mogul with a shouted greeting. The huge krogan lifted her up by the back of her shirt to look at her eye to orange slit-pupilled eye. Too far away to make out their exchange, Astraea fought a bout of anxiety as the girl pointed in the direction of the spaceport. Mogul grumbled a surprised question, to which Sister shrugged and rolled her eyes. Such insolence in a slave might be met poorly.

The justicar tensed as the krogan's other hand came up, maybe to strike. Mogul patted Sister on the head, and the asari forced herself to relax. When Mogul set Sister on her bare feet, Astraea muttered, "Okay, now get out of there."

Sister made to be away, but a growled command from Mogul stopped her. The girl made some excuse and pointed to a kiosk of sweets nearby, but Mogul cut her off with a bark. Under the krogan's watchful eye, Sister bowed her head and trudged in the direction of the wharves ahead of him.

Astraea held back a curse with difficulty. This complicated matters. Mogul must have demanded the girl lead him to Keigan.

Taking to the roofs, the justicar raced to arrive there ahead of them and struggled to come up with a plan to get them both out of this mess.

"I knew Keigan was stupid, but letting you run around on your own. Doesn't he know how much money we have invested in you? What an ass."

"Said I was good an' I oughta go get me some sweets." Sister picked her way around puddles. The heavy rain had ceased, leaving the atmosphere cold and foggy.

"Why does this feel like an ambush?" croaked Mogul, as he and Sister marched between the shipping containers below her. Astraea crept along, waiting for an opportunity to extricate Sister from her predicament. The krogan sniffed the air and affixed the girl with one baleful eye. "And since when do you ever bathe?"

"You're one to talk, bonehead." The girl burst into motion, her small, hard fist colliding with the side of the krogan's knee. Sister stripped the assault rifle off Mogul's back and when it proved too unwieldy for her slight frame, tossed it into the ocean. Mogul, big though he is, crumpled to one side. She shouted over the krogan's roar of outrage, "And ambush it is, stupid!"

Recognizing her cue, Astraea leapt, crashing down upon the krogan's plated back. Her weight flattened Mogul momentarily. She thrust her omniblade deep into his side a couple times before jumping away, knowing full well Mogul had only to roll her under him to crush her. Neither hit proved fatal and Mogul, enraged and full of spite, scrambled to his feet and squared off with her.

Astraea shouted to Sister, "Now, run! I will handle him."

Stubborn, the girl only shook her head a furious negative, her face set in a scowl as she circled around Mogul's back. The krogan spun to keep them both in view.

"Peachin' to the cops, now, you little rat? After all we did for you?" He swiped at the girl with his claws, but nimble as a feline, she danced away from him.

"You made me hurt all them peoples, just so's I stayed sharp!" Sister spat at his feet, contempt twisting her little face into an all too adult expression.

The justicar lobbed a stasis. It caught the krogan full in the side, but Mogul just shrugged off its effect after a second or two. He spun toward Astraea and froze, astonishment twisting his craggy features for a moment before he rumbled a deep and sour laugh. "Well, look who it is. How's it going, boss?"

"I'm not your boss anymore, traitor."

Mogul grinned. "That's right. Silva took the reins, didn't she. Had better plans, better payoffs. Fewer scruples."

"Where is Silva, Mogul? Tell me and I will kill you quick."

"You think she doesn't know you're gunning for her? That picking apart her organization didn't sting her mightily? And now you're, what, stealing our property?" Mogul swept a hand out toward Sister. "Pretty low for a justicar, taking on slaves."

"I freed her."

"To do what? Your dirty work? Or are you collecting little girls now?" The krogan smiled at the flash of fury that must be evident in her face. "Oh, that's right, we killed the one that was yours. So you wanna take ours to replace her?"

From the depths of her fiery maelstrom of a mind, a single thought surfaced. The Code. Always the Code. It cooled the hate that threatened to spew forth. Astraea took a deep breath and stated, cold as a wintry sea, "Where is Silva?"

"Tell you what. Let me go and I'll take you there myself."

Disdain for this male and all he stood for filled her. "Once a betrayer, always a betrayer?"

"I follow the path of least resistance."

"And you are poorer for it."

Sister interrupted their dialogue, "She's at the Burrow, he said. On the way here."

"You little bitch!" Mogul lunged at the little girl, quicker than she could dodge. A huge hand slapped Sister into a shipping container with a resounding thud.

Astraea darted between them, warding the krogan off with glowing fists. Strike after strike she blocked, fast as lightning. One last exchange and she somersaulted mid-air, kicking out with both feet. Mogul went flying away, landing on his rump some distance away. She risked a glance behind, where the girl swayed, having gotten back on her feet. "Sister, are you alright?"

"Yeah. Been hit harder. Hear that, Mogul? You hit like a salarian!" Such pluck warmed the justicar's heart, as did the fire in the girl's eyes as she once again took on a fighting stance.

Mogul clambered back to his feet and set himself for a charge, his orange eyes narrowed in fury. Astraea flicked out her omniblades and nodded to the left, Flank him.

Sister grinned a savage grin and muttered, "Right."

With a roar, the krogan ran at them. At the last minute, the pair split, spinning to each side. Astraea swept back in low, her knives diving for his hamstrings. The flesh sizzled under their glow. With a leaping kick almost twice her height, Sister propelled Mogul forward. Momentum unstoppable and with two unresponsive legs, the krogan crashed into and through a huge crate. Shouted curses in the dark beyond heralded news that Mogul remained alive.

Astraea made to go after him, but a small hand on her wrist stopped her. She looked down into Sister's mischievous honeyed gaze. The girl said, "Might wanna move it back a bit."

A pin dangled from her other fist. The justicar swept her up and leapt back just as a resounding boom preceded a fireball flying out of the crumpled shipping container. The immense heat seared the skin of her face as she hid Sister from the blast.

Sister laughed and joked, "You's right. Grenades do work better."

Shaking her head at the strange and bloodthirsty creature under her arm, she straightened and eyed the wreckage. No use looking for a body there. Inferno grenades didn't leave much but ash. She huffled a little chuckle and said, "Now we just have to find this 'Burrow'."

"Weren't far, he said. Must be here, on Kahje."

"Sound reasoning. Perhaps it is a place well known." Astraea searched the name on the local extranet and came up with several references and maps. Luck was with them. It lay not a kilometer away.

"Mogul was all excited about a big fight. Said I was top billing and he had a load of creds on me. Could be another little trick could get us in?"

"And put you in danger again?"

The girl looked from her to the vast sea and back, solemn.

"I don't think I ever been safe a day in my life."

Truer words had never been spoken. But to hear such wisdom from a child-no, not a child. Never a child. Never allowed to have a childhood. To try to constrain her back into the make-believe net of false security would be wrong. She'd seen too much, knew too much. Treating her as a guileless child now would be degrading.

Sorrow pricked Astraea, deep and painful. Astraea pulled Sister close and embraced her. She'd weep later for the child who never was, but for now, a duty had to be done. A task finally fulfilled.

Sister leaned back from the hug. "Silva's waitin'."

"Then let's not tarry."

As they went forth to do battle against an old foe, Sister asked, reluctance to intrude riding high in her eyes, "Mogul said there'us a girl. Your girl."

"There was. She died."

"Silva's kilt her?"

"Hers were the hands that did the deed, yes."

"So, you gonna get her back for it?"

"No, vengeance is not justice."

"What's the difference?"

Astraea took a deep breath. "I did many bad things when I was young and foolish. Silva might have killed my daughter, but the one truly responsible, was me. I died that day, the me whose great greed and hubris led me to ruin and destroyed the one good thing in my life. I paid what I owed. Am still paying what I owe. Now I am here to make sure Silva does the same."

Silence reigned for a time. Astraea watched Sister's pensive face out of the corner of her eye. Then the girl ventured, "Do you think peoples can ever make up for the bad stuff they done, even if it's a lot?"

"That is my one hope, yes. If not, then why do we try?"

"Maybe, maybe you can, uh," Sister started with a sidelong glance at her, "tell me 'bout her? Your girl, I mean."

"Someday, perhaps." She held a hand over her heart. "When the pain eases a little."

"What if it don't?" Again, that insight. How it cut her to the quick.

"Then it will serve to remind me why I keep fighting."

They obtained a disguise of sorts for Astraea from a street vendor. A simple hooded cloak that kept prying eyes from sussing out her intention to infiltrate the Burrow.

She passed the security checkpoints after relinquishing her firearm. As she and Sister passed into the large bowl-shaped room full of spectators of every race, Astraea looked around, trying to spot Silva amid the throng. A caged hexagon lay in the center, at the bottom of the 'bowl'. While above, dark water covered the dome.

"Psst. Keep your head down. Silva's like to be in the box up there." Sister yanked the justicar's cowl lower with one fist, jerking a thumb upward with the other. Astraea pulled it back just enough to peer where that thumb pointed. She saw figures on a floating platform above and beyond the arena itself. Sister then said, "Gotta check in. Let me do the talkin'. If peoples asks, you're my new handler."

The girl led her to a high table, where she thumped her little fist on the top and pulled herself up to see over. "Chojo!"

A slender salarian spun at her voice. "Hey, squirt, long time no see."

"Got trainings. Done now. Come to fight."

Astraea saw Chojo's feet shuffle in her direction, but she kept her cowl low to hide her face. The salarian asked, "Where's Keigan?"

"Met a girl. Went rec-ree-ay-shun," Sister's voice took on an exasperating tone, indicating this happened a lot.

Chojo laughed. "Oh, I'll bet. I'll bet he's recreating all over."

"This's m'new handler, Nee-ko."

The justicar nodded. A disdainful snort answered her. She marked it well.

"Well, you're here, so I guess it doesn't much matter where that ass, Keigan, is. He owes me three-fifty. Make sure you tell him that." Chojo chuckled again and his tone turned conspiratorial, "You got some competition this time. The Primacy sanctioned this fight. You're going against some tough kids. Drell kids. Assassin trainees."

"Big deal. I got some new moves, m'self." Her bluster served to keep everyone's attention on her. "Boss Silva coming down for inspec-shun?"

"After the fight, kid. She's got a lot of Establishment up there to entertain."

"I'ma get gear. Where'zit at?"

The salarian pointed along the wall, where a pile of disassembled armors and melee weapons lay on a bench behind a couple turian bodyguards in Dire Corbie-purple. "Handlers stay in the hutch during the fight!" he called after them as they walked away.

Sister pulled her aside before they got there and pulled her down to speak in her ear. "Was hopin' she'd come down before the fight, but no luck."

"It is never easy." Astraea studied the platform without seeming to look at it directly. She smiled and assured her companion, "I will find a way to get to her."

"She'll be plenty distracted when it gets messy. Won't be watching her backside, most like."

"I agree. Are you going to be okay fighting like this?"

"Never knew anything but. Didn't know no better til you come along." Sister hugged her, brief and fierce. "Thank you."

"No, thank you, Sister. Be careful."

"You, too. Get her good. I don't want to be no slave again." With that, the girl scampered off to pick through the gear provided to the fighters.

Astraea found her way to the 'handler hutch', a smaller caged area where all the fighters' caretakers were kept and watched. The justicar found herself in their midst, many suspicious pairs of eyes glaring at her. She looked up and saw that the top lay open. From here, she could study the stadium at leisure. The floating platform drifted directly above. Tracing her gaze along the wall, she saw a series of support struts running up and along the dome. There lay an opportunity. She had to wait for the fighting to be in full swing, though, if she had any hope of getting up there unnoticed.

"You are the human girl's handler, correct?" came a smooth voice from her left.

"Temporarily, yes." Astraea turned to look at the speaker, a handsome drell with striking yellow and crimson markings. Muscles moved under his tight sleeveless tunic and trews and he moved with an easy coordination that boasted much martial prowess.

"I've studied recordings of her style. It's quite remarkable. Brutal, but effective." He put a hand out. Uncertain, she took it with her own. With solemn respect, he bowed over their joined hands. "I am Tytus. Moloch is my disciple in the Compact."

"Moloch?"

The drell smiled. "Moloch is your student's challenger. I think she will find him a worthy adversary. Fully capable and strong. I am interested to see how they both fare in their bout."

Taken aback by this reference of children fighting to the death as honorable battle, she snatched her hand back. Astraea turned her shoulder to him in contempt and concentrated on her task.

"I have made you angry. Tell me, what did I say wrong?"

Gritting her teeth, she narrowed her eyes at him. "You cannot tell me you do not see the wrongness here. Those are children, younglings and soon one or more of them will die on this altar of greed!" Aware that she'd gotten quite loud and drawn curious stares, she pulled her cowl lower over her eyes.

"Die?" Tytus looked around in vague confusion. "No, this is a tournament to first blood. So have I been informed."

"Then you have been sadly misinformed. Look around you. Do you honestly believe these 'good' people have come to see toddlers fall on their behinds and cry?" She gestured to take in the crowd of obvious rogues and malcontents.

Tytus hummed as he took in her point and saw the discrepancy. "Then why have so many of these handlers brought their charges, if it is to a bloodbath? Why would their charges agree to such a thing?"

"They have no choice. They are slaves!" Her finger poked him in the chest.

Now, alarmed, Tytus' mouth opened and closed. He managed after a long moment, "Slaves?"

"Yes, slaves."

"No, impossible. The Primacy would nev-"

"The Primacy sanctioned these matches." Her eyes accused him of complicity.

To which he held up his hands and retorted with a touch of heat, "Then they did not know."

"How could they not? Is not your Compact a similar system?"

"It is. Not. Slavery." Vehement. Passionate, even. She decided to listen. Tytus swept a hand through the air between them. "We serve through choice. Our children serve in gratitude to the hanar for saving what few of us they could and thereby bring honor to their families. If they so chose, they could leave the Compact. It would sadden their patron, but no repercussions would be visited on the child for it. Even as a pledged assassin, I choose whether or not I accept a contract. My choice to be a knife in another's hand."

"You take money for murder," she prodded, trying to find the shape of his reasoning.

"Only to maintain myself and those for whom I'm responsible. Much like a whetstone keeps a blade sharp, I must eat. And have shelter." A solid case. One that swayed the justicar. It was a question of basic economics and ultimate responsibility. When a person hired a killer to assassinate someone else, who was at fault? The assassin? Or the one who hired his services? The intent to murder must lay with the employer.

Tytus looked around at the crowd, cheering for the fighters who must have made their appearance. "If what you say is true, we must stop this. The Primacy wouldn't countenance this travesty if they truly understood what it entailed. It must be a misunderstanding."

"I hope you are right. I only came to kill a few, but if these others are culpable, then I'll have no choice but to slay them as well." Tytus turned to ask her what she meant, but the crowd drowned out his words.

Astraea turned to see the first combatants take the stage. Two vorcha adolescents flew at each other in a flash of long, clawed arms. Blood soon flew into the crowd. They roared their approval, laughing and cajoling the youngsters killing each other out there. Disgust made her gorge rise. She swung on a horror-stricken Tytus. "Are you serious about stopping this? For this is just the beginning. Silva is gearing up for massive distribution of gladiators all across the galaxy. By this time next year, there will be a pit like this on every world populated enough to have a spaceport. The blood of slaves will soak their floors and grease the wheels of avarice."

Tytus cringed away from the spectacle and rasped, "Whatever you need me to do, I will do it."

"Cover me as I climb up to that platform and end this tragedy." She didn't even look back to see if he'd heard. Flinging off her cloak, Astraea swung herself up the cage walls. The supports proved easy enough to climb.

Behind her she heard another handler start to say, "Hey, what are you do-ghck!"

Tytus, true to his word, silenced that voice, hid his deed in the roar of the crowd. She spared a silent thanks to him with a look. The drell looked up at her and gave a salute.

In the ring, menials cleared away what was left of those two vorcha boys. The crowd went wild as the next set stepped up. Sister and another human child faced off. Bets rang out over the tumult. Astraea paused as her ward burst into action, spinning and punching, the spiked gauntlets on her hands gouging the other's flesh. Clearly outmatched, the boy could only backpedal, until he broke and ran for the fence, climbing it like a primate. Sister pursued, actually beating him to the top and straddling it. Then she grabbed him by his loincloth and heaved him the rest of the way over, down into the spectators. When the boy stood once more, woozy and beaten, Sister threw her arms up in victory, giving an ululating shout.

Amused by this turn, the mob howled their laughter. Sister jumped down in a fancy double spin and landed nimbly on her feet. She jeered her retreating opponent with thumb to nose.

Astraea shook her head at the girl's antics. Other fighters took the field as the justicar kept climbing. The dome, wide and tall, daunted her with the idea that it might take forever to get to the part over the platform. She hardened her resolve and concentrated on putting one hand over the other, one foot higher with each step.

Sometime later, she heard more roaring and looked down to see a slim blue and green figure slide into the ring with Sister. That must be Moloch, the contender. The justicar prayed to the Goddess to grant Sister fortitude, for if the student were anything like the master, he presented quite the challenge indeed. Sister seemed to know the time for silliness had passed as well, for her whole bearing changed to reflect seriousness. In a blur, the two children lunged at each other, hands and feet flying in deadly arcs.

Even without the showmanship, Astraea found it difficult to pull her eyes away from that spectacle. Had any thirty year-old asari ever shown such mastery of self?

Higher and higher she climbed, until she could just see over the platform. Silva leaned over the far side, yelling and laughing encouragement to those who strove to not die below. One of which had become quite precious to Astraea.

The hanar that swayed at Silva's side undulated in distress, their bio-luminescence flashing alarming shades of maroon and chartreuse, visible even to Astraea's un-augmented eyes. She could just hear their protestation. "This one did not expect such unseemly behavior. Or that the match would go past a Blooding."

"Oh, grow a spine, will you?" cajoled Silva, then she winked at the speaker. "No offense."

"This one will not be liable for any death-grudges this mockery of our traditions will engender-"

"No one's going to retaliate. Look at them all. They're loving it. And they'll love me for bringing it to them! And I'll love the credits they spend just to get in the door." She cheered as Sister executed a particularly difficult riposte. Nudging the hanar with an elbow, she snarked, "Don't forget that a cut of the proceeds is yours. Plus a little extra for keeping the cops away."

"Money is not equivalent to honor-"

"Let's talk about it after, 'kay? When we're splitting the take. You're ruining the mood."

Looming now, above the gathering on the platform, Astraea let her upper body dangle as she thought of the best method of approach. The hanar would be no problem, but the other 'honored' guests could be. Two turians, a salarian and of course, Silva. Quick, decisive. That had to be the way.

Picking her target, Astraea plummeted, flipping mid-air to land on the platform. She dropped a singularity on the turians. The salarian froze in her stasis. Silva turned with a curse and shouted to the hanar, "Get her!"

The hanar looked at one another and their spokesman said, "This one believes you mad."

"Fucking jellyfish!" snarled Silva.

The justicar stalked her target, omniblade at the ready. With casual disregard, she shoved the salarian off the platform and slashed the two turians' throats just as the singularity dissipated. "Silva N'ordain, the Code demands you answer for your crimes."

Silva pulled out a firearm, so small that the justicar hadn't noticed it. The mercenary-turned-slaver laughed. "You didn't think I'd ever go unarmed, did you? I'm not stupid."

"No one could ever say that of you. You, who used to stay up nights studying the specs so none of us on the job were caught unaware. You, who made sure we had extra clips and didn't we always end up needing them? You, who shared the passion for my endeavor as well as my bed." Astraea paced back and forth before the pistol's swinging muzzle. "Where did that careful, yet caring comrade go? Where did this hateful and cruel being come from? How did the father of my Cassia turn into a monster?"

Silva's mouth gaped in shock and that gun trembled as it pointed at her. Then the mercenary's eyes went flat and steely and Astraea knew then Silva had gone past the point of recalling, of even caring that she'd murdered her own daughter. "As if you were always such a bleeding heart! Hypocrite. You were right beside me the whole time. We slaughtered hundreds of people, kids included, stole millions of credits. We had the galaxy in the palms of our hands! And you threw it away!"

"For my child, yes. A hundred times, yes. The funny thing is, I'd made arrangements to give it all to you anyway," she said, with a rueful smile.

"Like that fixes anything! Look at you now. A justicar. How can you stand there now and judge me?" Silva set her jaw and grimaced in hate. "The blood on my hands is a shallow pond compared to the oceans that stain yours!"

Silva opened fire. The rounds sped at the justicar, who leapt sideways to evade them. A couple ricocheted off her shields, throwing her balance off-center. She nearly toppled to her doom off the edge. A stray bullet found its way into the controls. Silva cursed a long string of curses as the floating platform started to tip.

The mob below cried out in horror as it began to fall. They scrambled for the exits. Some, too unfortunate to escape, got crushed under its bulk as it slammed into the stadium floor. Thrown from her feet, Astraea slid with the impact, praying that the thing did not flip completely over. The structure ground to a halt. The justicar stood on shaky legs and looked around for her target.

Who crawled away from her, a long strut piercing her through the middle. Blood trickled from her lips to the canvas of the pit floor. The platform had flattened one whole side of the hexagon in its descent.

Fear struck the justicar then and she looked around for Sister, wildly, spinning a complete 180 degrees looking for her. A pained cry behind her made her spin back.

Sister straddled Silva above the metal rod, pinning her to the mat, one small hand gloved in spikes around the woman's throat. Silva struggled and rasped, "Kill her! Kill the justicar!"

The girl batted the mercenary's weak and flailing arms away. "Stop. You're embarrassin' y'self. All this time teachin' me to kill and you never thought once how easy it could be for me to snuff you?"

By the fear in the woman's eyes, she had not thought about it. Until now. Still, she fought back. With words. "I fed you. I trained you. I gave you everything!"

Sister leaned in close and shouted, "You took it all away! Stole it. Hollowed me out. And what you left ain't worth shit. I got nothing but a hunger for killin'."

"Hgk-" Silva tried to speak around the constricting hand at her throat, but Sister's other fist swept up to grasp the slaver's neck as well.

"No. Shut up. You filled me with, with wrong. Made me proud of it. And I didn't know. I's . . . ignorance until she showed me t'other side of it all. The good, the right. There's worlds of good to go along with the bad. But you-

"There ain't nothin' right about you. It's just all . . . wrong. Like when you had Mogul snuff my mama just 'cuz you thought a little mothering made me soft. Like she hadn't been beat down enough bein' body-slave to your mercs!" The girl slapped Silva across the mouth, her spikes throwing purple droplets off to one side. Into Silva's disbelieving eyes, Sister uttered in deadly soft tones, "Yeah, I knew. I always knew."

Astraea, frozen at this heartbreaking revelation, started forward. "Sister-"

"Hear that? I got something now. A name. It's mine forever. It ain't much, but it's a start." The little girl turned her golden eyes shimmering with tears to Astraea, asking her-no, begging her for permission to end it.

The justicar warred with herself as she agonized over this decision. Part of her still held onto the belief that this child could still be saved, could still reclaim a portion of her innocence. But the Code knew better. That door was closed, for all eternity. She nodded and closed her eyes, unable to watch as Sister choked Silva to death.

With a last wretched gurgle, Silva sighed out her last breath. A light cough to the side made her turn and regard Tytus, who stood some ways off with his charge, Moloch, before him. She could see from the way his hands rested on the boy's shoulders that the man really and truly cared for his student. "I alerted the authorities. They should be on their way."

"Thank you, Tytus. And thank you for your help."

To Moloch, he said, "You fought well, kit. A little more ferocity and you would have had her."

The boy groaned in good-natured dismay and let the man lead him away. The pair bantered back and forth as they left. That lightened her heavy heart and made her turn back to Sister.

The girl, standing over Silva, seemed lost. It pulled Astraea to her side and on impulse, the justicar reached down for her small hand. Sister squeezed it and said, "Think I know what vengeance means now."

"Hm?" said Astraea, with care, for she did not know how tenuous or fragile the girl's spirit might be.

"I enjoyed that. 'Cuz it fed somethin' in me. A, a need. But that's wrong, too. It don't feel good. After." Sister looked up at the justicar, worry and fear in her face. "Did I break the Code? Am I unjust?"

"Vengeance, though ugly, is allowed to those who haven't forsworn it. You have taken no more than what was owed."

"I'm ugly?" Resignation filled the girl's tone.

Astraea chuckled. "We're all a little ugly on the inside, dear heart. It's up to us to want more. To have hope for change."

"I want it." So firm and full of conviction was Sister that Astraea had to smile. Sister held up her arms and, indulging her, the justicar picked her up and put her to a hip.

"I thought you were seven. Isn't that a little old to want to be carried?" Astraea strode to the Burrow's exit, eager to be away from this place.

"Yeah, maybe, but I looks five and aren't I small 'nuff?" The girl giggled in her aural canals, then asked, "Where we going now?"

"Home."

"Where's that?"

"Thessia, the asari homeworld."

"What's a homeworld?"

"It's where a species originates. Have you ever been to Earth, your homeworld?"

"Newp. Don't rightly think I can call it home if'n I never been there." Sister's face turned solemn in her periphery. "Think maybe I can make Thessia home?"

"I was just thinking something like that. But we'll see."