CHAPTER THREE
Pilgrims

Kara took one of the public aircars up to the Presidium dock under section alpha. Though they could pass through the simulated sky and the dense mass effect field that held in the atmosphere, CSec restricted traffic in the area, to keep the less desirable elements away from the VIPs. As if by coincidence, these restrictions kept the poor and homeless that occupied parts of the wards from cluttering up the walkways of the rich. An asari officer checked her ID and scanned her for weapons, before waving her on with an amused expression.

From the docks, a high speed lift carried her inwards, past the Presidium grounds and up the walls to the Commons, small open areas scattered along the upper rim, from which people could overlook the grounds. Below, alpha section included the lift up the Presidium Tower, home of the Citadel Council, and the embassies of the associate races, which made the Commons section into a popular tourist spot. The CSec presence was higher than in most other parts of the station, giving her several uniformed turian males to choose from.

Instead, she walked down the terraced floors to the lowest rail, and looked out over the grounds. She could see the krogan statue again, still enduringly unaware of his species' fate, and the Tower itself, rising up until it disappeared behind the false sky, a hundred meters away. At its base stool a scale model of a Mass Relay, a monument to the greatest achievement of the protheans, the network of primary and secondary Relays which spread across the galaxy, allowing travel and more than a thousand light years a day. Without them, it was unlikely that any sort of galactic civilization would exist, with each species limited stars within a few hundred light years of their homeworld.

"Commander Shepard?"

Kara turned at the unexpected, resonant turian voice. He was wearing a standard turian-manufactured light armor, enameled with CSec-blue highlights, and lieutenant's insignia on the shoulders. Blue face paint, a symbol of his homeland and not his occupation, ran over his nose and under his eyes. "Garrus Vakarian?"

"That's right. I heard the Council had assigned a human to investigate Saren," he said, studying her skeptically. I don't know what they think you can accomplish that I can't, but I wish they'd sent you to me."

"They're testing me," Kara said. In his place, she would find the Council's decision demeaning. "I'm not looking to take over from you, Garrus, but we may have more success if we work together."

"I've been ordered not to," he sighed, his mandibles flexing thoughtfully, "but what the hell. It's not like I have much to show for two years of effort. My leads always end up drifting."

"Are you working on anything right now?"

"Two things. There's rumors that Saren is recruiting krogan through an intermediary, a vicious warlord named Dovar. Some say she's promising a second Uprising, if you can believe it."

There could be no second Uprising, not as things stood. The krogan did not have a fleet of warships, or even the industrial infrastructure necessary to manufacture one, and could not present a credible threat without both. They could not sustain a war from a population standpoint, either. The genophage, the salarian bioweapon which had ended the Krogan Rebellions, negatively effected gestation, leading to a live birth rate of one out of every hundred fertilized ovum. As a result, they were already facing an extinction crisis.

Despite the long decline of their species, krogan mercenaries were still common, as both the young and old went off seeking a glorious death, to counteract the seeming futility of life, and it was certainly possible that Saren would seek to supplement the somewhat fragile geth platforms with more resilient shock troops. "And the second?"

"I have a few friends here and there. One of them told me that a pair of quarians showed up over Illium early this morning. They're claiming to have recovered important information from geth forces in the Terminus Systems, which ties in neatly to the attack on Eden Prime. They've been made to wait in orbit, or so I hear."

That sounded like the more promising of the two. They sounded to her like a pilgrims, who had presumably gone after the geth in hopes of return to the Migrant Fleet with valuable information about their rebellious creations. If it were of direct utility, they wouldn't be looking to trade it, though it might still have nothing to do with Saren or Eden Prime. "Could you put me in contact with them?"

"Sorry, no," he said. "There's something wrong with the comm relays between here and Illium. I haven't even been able to reply to my friend."

Formerly an asari colony, Illium was now a renegade outpost of the species, a part of the independent Terminus Systems, rather than the Asari Republic. It had a reputation for severe corruption and inequality under an oligarchic capitalist government, at least partially controlled by mercenary and criminal gangs. A comm blackout could certainly be arranged, for a price, which might mean that the quarians were in danger. "Let's go back to my ship, and try again with military priority."

"It seems like a long shot, but okay," Garrus agreed. "I'd hate to lose another lead, with so many lives at stake."

"Nice ship you've got here," Garrus said, following Kara along the command deck, towards the briefing room. Aside from a pair of marines guarding the airlock, the pilot, and duty officer, the deck was quiet, much of the crew enjoying leave on the Citadel. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before."

"It's a prototype, the result of a joint project between the Alliance and Hegemony," Kara told him. The project itself had been widely touted, at least within the Alliance, as an example of cross-species cooperation, though the details were classified.

"Right, I remember hearing about that. The, uh, Normandy, right?"

"Yes, that's right—"

"Commander, do you have a moment?"

Lieutenant Keyx Dumar, was watching Garrus, rather than her, when he spoke. He was second navigation officer, with some third-watch command experience at his last posting. Kara nodded at him, and turned the nearest station, where a young blond woman was working. "Ensign, set up a comm link with Illium, and put it through to the briefing room. Garrus will give you the address."

"Yes, sir," the officer acknowledge.

Kara kept her expression neutral, as she turned back to Keyx. He was in his late twenties, she guessed, his thick black hair combed neatly back. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Ma'am, the Normandy is supposed to be classified technology. Are you sure about…"

"Let me worry about that," Kara said softly. She didn't question his concern, but the turians didn't need to steal the Normandy's technology, and Garrus was an unlikely to be spying for the batarians.

"But ma'am, he's—"

"What?" Kara interrupted coldly. She had a low tolerance for casual racism, especially from her officers. That sort of idiocy tended to spread, if left unchecked.

"Nothing, ma'am."

It was only twenty-five years since the end of the First Contact War, so perhaps some misunderstanding was still to be expected. Most humans had never seen an alien outside entertainment vids, where they were often portrayed stereotypically, as villains or side-characters, and very rarely as protagonist. Kara didn't waste much time on it. The best way to learn about turian culture was to study their art directly, or as directly as the language barrier allowed, rather than a human take on it.

"Good," she sighed, checking on Garrus; the turian was passing through the heavy door into the briefing room. Leaving the Navigation officer at his post, Kara followed the turian. The main projectors displayed the progress of an outgoing communications attempt, now awaiting a response from the other end.

"You were right, Commander," Garrus said, noticing her as he sat down. "Someone put a block on all comm traffic between Illium and Citadel space, but your officer routed us through a Terminus System comm relay. I wish I'd though of that."

Routing traffic through a proxy was a solution that Kara used on a regular basis, as a means of disguising her extranet usage from the Alliance. Whether she had something to hide or not was beside the point, as her interests were not their business. "That could make for a rough connection," she said. "Keep things brief, if you can."

"Yeah, I can—" He cut himself off as the main display switched to a feed of a turian female, seated in front of a plain grey wall. Physically, turians had less sexual dimorphism than humans, with no difference in average height or body shape. The primary external difference was a slightly narrower face, and the hardened plates that covered her skull did not extend outward, like Garrus' sweeping crests. Her face was clear of paint, and thus any clan identity. "Tallix?"

The eture[1] scowled, her mandibles tightening irritably. The video was of low quality, and skipped at times. The signal's circuitous route likely took it through more than one high-traffic link, and running on civilian priority, which resulted in inconsistent bandwidth. "Vakarian, you ugly thresher-spawn. About time you got back to me. You interested in those quarians or not?"

"That depends on what they're carrying."

"I wouldn't know, but rumor has it someone sent a turian merc after them, and not one of the cuddly ones. An eturi named Jacobus. Rumor has it he's working for Saren, but my source for that is… unreliable."

"Are you sure the quarians are selling geth data?" Kara inquired. Even if they weren't, she supposed that Saren might be responding to the same rumors, but he could also have more direct information that confirmed the claim.

"Who's the pyjak, Vakarian?" the turian asked, her lip turning up in a distasteful sneer. "CSec still lowering its standards?"

Of course, racism went both ways. Humans were pushing their way into a civilization that had survived quite well without them, and doing so with an aggressive arrogance that predictably created resentment.

"Hell, Tallix, we wouldn't hire you," Garrus said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "but I guess that is a low standard. Just answer her question."

"Yes, or as sure as I get without seeing it for myself. If they lied, it was a pretty stupid thing to do," the eture said. "Word is that they died in an explosion under the spaceport, and Jacobus left on a transport to the Citadel. Maybe he's got the information you're after, if you can wrest it from him."

She resented, actually, not being able to help the quarians. They were thrust from their homes, left to fight against a galaxy that viewed them as little more than scavengers and thieves. Their government did not release statistics on attrition rates, and proper estimates were difficult to find, but as many as half of all pilgrims never returned to the Migrant Fleet. "Even if he doesn't, we should speak to him."

"I have the ship's registry number," Tallix grinned. "For a price."

"You'll get your credits," Garrus said. "Just send the data."

"I'm appending the title docs. He'll try and skip out on customs, so watch out for that."

"Yeah, great. Thanks, Tallix. If you hear anything else, let me know."

The eture gave a vague turian military-style salute, and shut down the channel.

"So, Commander, we got another lead," Garrus said, turning towards her. "I'll have the ship flagged, but it won't come in for a few days. I suggest we make use of that time by interrogating Dovar."

Kara nodded. It was worth an attempt, at least. "Let's go."

Ilckane Dovar was much easier to find than Kara expected, and about as hospitable. The krogan tramped about in heavy combat armor, studying her guests with an angry expression on her long, scarred face. She paused, a single dark eye studying Kara intently. "Run back to your worthless colleagues, turian. I could chew you up armor and all, but I imagine you'd taste foul. The little human looks nice and tender, though."

Kara smiled back calmly, and leaned against the nearest wall. Typical krogan bravado, and not nearly as terrifying as they pretended.

"If you'd stop slobbering like a diseased varren, we could explain why we're here," Garrus suggested, no more impressed by Dovar's show than Kara.

"Huh," she growled, drawing herself up to her full height, more than two meters of muscle and bone. Krogan were dangerous, powerful and resilient, but often undisciplined. The Alliance considered them priority targets in ground engagements, to be taken out at range. "Speak."

"We're investigating the activities of Saren Arterius. Rumor has it that you've been recruiting Krogan mercs for him, with some sort of grand promise."

Dovar laughed. "If I was, I wouldn't be stupid enough to tell you, turian."

Kara looked down at her hands, rubbing at her blunt nails. "It might be more foolish of you not to."

She was being terribly disrespectful, according to krogan custom, by not even acknowledging the strength of her foe. The proper response was for her to puff up her chest in her own belligerent display, and face the krogan nose to nose.

The krogan female huffed angrily, and crossed the three meters between them in a few short steps. Slamming her armored fist into the wall with enough force to send shards of the material flying, she snarled in Kara's face. "Are you threatening me, human?"

"I rather think I am," Kara declared softly. And what was the proper response? Brave, stupid, or both? She wasn't concerned with gaining the admiration of a krogan warlord.

According to the Alliance's most recent estimate, Kara was a class one biotic, among the most powerful they had produced, able to lift about three hundred kilograms at standard Earth gravity, or six if she pushed herself. They were wrong, but an armored krogan typically massed in at a tonne or more. She could do it, relying on technique to supplement raw power, focusing carefully on the practiced steps that allowed her to wrap Dovar in a powerful mass effect field, wasting neither time nor energy.

It wasn't easy, but Kara managed to reduce the krogan's mass by more than a thousand times, until she became less dense than the atmosphere in the room. Taken by surprise, she began to drift upwards. "Put me down!" she demanded loudly, swiping at Kara in an attempt to ground herself. Garrus was staring in shock.

"I'm not in the mood for games," Kara grated, struggling to maintain her focus against a growing headache. She couldn't keep the field up for long, even with her biotic amp at full power, and wouldn't be good for much after it failed. "Tell us about Saren."

"I don't know anything," the krogan insisted. "I just offer them a contract and ship them out. I don't even know where they go!"

Kara released the field. It was better than showing weakness by letting it fail, despite an angry krogan falling over two meters to the floor. Once again massing over a tonne, she struck with some impact, snarling furiously as she attempted to regain her feet.

"What the hell was that?" Kaidan asked, coming in through the door.

Kara had asked him to wait outside, but she could hardly blame him for checking in. "Garrus was just giving us a demonstration of his prowess," she said, giving the turian a warning glance.

"Uh, yeah," Garrus agreed quickly, his eyes narrowing in question. Why would an Alliance marine conceal her true strength from her comrades? Like any such deception, she believed she had a good answer. "When is the next group leaving?"

Dovar stomped her feet, still huffing indignantly, as if the entire humiliating episode could be forgotten with enough snarling and noise. "There is none. We've got all the soldiers we need, for now, and the rest will come. The krogan people will unite behind Saren's vision, and together we'll slaughter you turian dogs and your salarian masters. It'll be a glorious bloodbath!" She laughed, a deep cacophony of sound and fury.

There was nothing glorious about any war, let alone a pointless struggle for revenge again a crime as old as the Genophage. Kara raised her chin, meeting Dovar's gaze as the krogan's attention turned on her. "Don't bother, krogan," she said softly, cutting off any further threats. "You're going to tell us everything you know about those freighters. If you don't know where they went, I want their registration numbers. And I want to know just how many mercenaries you hired."

The krogan grinned, showing off rows of blunt teeth, fit more for chewing vegetation than tearing flesh. It defied standard human expectations to find that such a warlike race was mostly herbivorous, but the facts were hard to deny. "I've told you all I'm going to, human."

"I've heard enough to bring you in, Dovar," Garrus said, undercutting her proud defiance. "You can either tell us what you know, or spend your glorious campaign rotting in a cell. Your choice."

Dovar's massive shoulders slumped, and she seemed to shrink into her armor. "Fine. I'll tell you what you want to know."

Kara sat on the window ledge of her temporary quarters, in the small section of the Presidium ring kept by the Alliance for visiting dignitaries. The view was amazing, the arms of the Citadel spreading out on all sides, glittering with millions of tiny lights. Freighters and passenger cruisers passed inward, toward the docking ring, or out to the Mass Relay. A three-ship turian patrol watched over the traffic, while, further out, she could see the impressive bulk of the Elleztere é Svesséa, cloaked in nebular gasses, the asari-made dreadnought that served as the Council's flagship.

The name was typically translated as meaning 'Unity's Shield', a reasonable approximation, Kara supposed, but rather inaccurate. 'Support of Solidarity' worked better, but didn't flow as nicely. The ship had twice the interior volume, and its main gun almost three times the firepower, of the Alliance's biggest warships, and could shatter a Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought with a single shot.

She sipped from a cup of earthy green tea, and sighed. Their investigation was progressing slowly. Garrus had brought Dovar's information to CSec, and produced records for three of the five freighters. They had all disappeared off the beacon network, all at different points, some in the Attican Traverse, and others in the Terminus Systems. None of them had returned. They had, she assumed, transferred their cargo to some other ship, and were then destroyed, though that was merely the most obvious possibility. Either way, the mercenaries were brought to a staging area.

What they didn't have, though, was solid proof of Saren's involvement, and even if they found any, hiring mercenaries was not a crime. Maybe, with time and resources, the lead would come to something. Until then, there was little for her to do. There was no news about the two quarians from Illium, and Alliance investigators were currently combing Eden Prime for further clues.

She found idleness frustrating, and switched her omnitool over to browse the major news feeds. Celebrity gossip and political foolishness, as usual, were among the Alliance News Network's top stories. A slaver raid on an Alliance colony, New Texas, was reported to have left five dead and at least fifteen missing, while the perpetrators had escaped before the SSV Ta Khmau could arrive with its taskforce. That was an unfortunately typical state of affairs, which the author of the report correctly identified as being down to the Navy's limited defensive strategy.

That was interesting. ANN writers typically blamed the local garrison, when there was one, for being unprepared, not for being too small, or, in a case like this, the colony for being too 'independent' to accept military support. The name under the title read 'Emily Wong', which was not one recognized, but there were new people entering the journalism market all the time. Most were quickly relegated to fringe sites, for their writing quality, or their refusal to conform.

The Defense Committee, which continually reaffirmed its strategy with quotes from Sun Tzu, argued that the Navy simply lacked the resources to defend ever Alliance colony, but she disagreed with that assessment. They would be stretched, certainly, but the increased likelihood of losing ships during a raid would make piracy a less attractive prospect. Instead, resentment towards an ineffective government built up along the frontiers, and would eventually force another Torfan-like raid, tying up resources in a bloody, spectacular assault that achieved nothing.

She frowned, and began to switch over to an alternate feed, when the door chime interrupted her. She opened the door instead, and shut off the interface. "Come in."

A young woman, her black hair cut short, entered the room, wearing a blue dress uniform. Kara had requested that Operations Chief Aoki Sayuri be assigned to the Normandy, though she and a few other marines had not caught up with the ship before they left for Eden Prime. "Reporting for duty, ma'am," the marine said, throwing a casual salute.

"Hey," Kara smiled, sliding off her seat. "I wasn't told that you'd arrived."

"We just finished stowing our gear," Sayuri replied, her soft grey eyes uncharacteristically evasive. "The lieutenant told me where you to find you. I, ah, I heard you requested me. Thanks."

Kara pointed the marine towards the couch. "Your last CO was happy to have you off his hands. He said you were causing trouble with the other squad leaders."

"You know what we go through," Sayuri scowled. 'We', meaning women, Kara assumed, and she did. Equality, as usual, was more slogan than policy. "I was just looking out for my people. Anyway, I learned from the best."

The Japanese marine—then a private—had been present on Torfan, during the events that had nearly resulted in Kara's court martial. Sometimes, circumstances required that the chain of command be violated. "You can trust me to deal with any problems under my command."

"And a few that aren't," Sayuri smirked. "I promise I won't hit anyone without your permission, ma'am."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Kara sighed, sitting across from the marine. She preferred 'sir', if formalities were required, and her name if possible.

"Yes, sir."

It was her own fault. Her actions and decisions had kept Sayuri at a safe distance. She had done the same to nearly everyone, after Elysium. More emotional scars, forgotten rather than healed. It was an excuse, even if true, to say that they didn't have much common ground. "Have you had a chance to drive a Mako?"

"Not outside a simulator, and I wouldn't have if I'd stayed dirtside. I heard that the DC contracted Rosenkov for a next-gen Grizzly, intended for the garrisons. It's a shame, 'cause that extra maneuverability could be just enough to get you out of a tight spot. I guess saving half a million creds per unit is worth a few dead marines."

Sayuri's analysis was more or less correct. The M35 'Mako' had few downsides, when compared to the M29 Grizzly, aside from a higher price. Its thinner armor was compensated for by slightly better barriers, and a limited ability to maneuver vertically, a side-effect of its mass effect-driven low-altitude combat landing system, and could only hold four extra marines in its rear cabin, rather than six. "I'm putting you in charge of ours. You'll get a chance to try it out soon enough."

The marine grinned again. "Well, I'd better go run through a few sims, then. Gotta be prepared, right?"

Kara smiled back, nodding faintly. "I'm sure you will be."

The aircar slowed swiftly, and hovered briefly over the transit point before landing. Kara pulled the release, and pushed the door open. She knew something about how easily bypassed Customs could be, but the news that Jacobus had evaded the team assigned to bring him in and escaped into the Wards had been frustrating. Garrus had immediately begun an attempt to track the turian mercenary down, with no success, but the search had turned up something else. A break, maybe.

A CSec patrol had found a quarian corpse less than an hour ago, dead from what appeared to be gunshot wounds. His name was Keenah'Breizh, and he had recently been turned over to CSec by a freighter captain, who had found him and a quarian female stowed-away on her ship. Its last stop had been Illium, and it had arrived four hours before Jacobus' transport. That had been almost thirty hours ago.

Kara had suggested to Garrus that their efforts go towards finding the other quarian, whose name they had down as Tali'Zorah, rather than Jacobus. Fifteen minutes ago, he had contacted her with a lead; a quarian female had evidently sought treatment for an injury in a small clinic.

Stepping out onto the platform, Kara checked her omnitool for directions. She thought about waiting for Kaidan, whom she had told to meet her at the clinic, but decided to head out immediately. If Jacobus was following the same trail, she didn't want Garrus to have confront him alone.

The corridors of sector twenty-eight were much like the rest of the Wards, a uniform grey broken by the occasional view of the nebula. The area had a large human population, most of them tired-looking, and dressed in cheap clothes. They had fled poverty on Earth, only to find that it followed them, imposed by greed rather than lack of resources. Citadel law ensured that they were fed, but could not provide jobs, or transport off the station. That was the responsibility of their government, which promoted charity rather than real solutions.

Leaving the more populated main section, she soon came to a door painted with a white cross. She tapped the access panel. The clinic was a single room, divided in the middle by a half wall, beyond which she could see beds. Garrus, still wearing his armor, stood at the opening, his hands held up in a placating gesture.

Kara stepped inside. The turian was watching a young human, as he held an archaic-looking pistol against the cheek of a woman. His hair and clothes were ragged, while she wore a white coat, her brown hair pinned back neatly. She was Doctor Chloë Michel, Kara assumed. A hostage? Had Garrus interrupted a shakedown, or something else?

"What's going on here?" Kara demanded.

The man turned to face her, aiming his pistol at her. The look in his eyes was of sheer terror. "Who the fu-"

She saw Garrus pull his pistol out of the corner of her eye. "No, wait!" Modern weapons were relatively quiet, using mass acceleration technology and mass effect fields to fire metal shavings at deadly speeds. The first bullet hit the man in the shoulder, and he screamed in pain, releasing his hold on the doctor, who scrambled out of the way. Two more hit him the chest, and he collapsed.

Kara noticed movement behind the doctor, opposite the turian. More criminals? She sprinted across the room, switching on her personal barrier generator as she did, using a chair to vault over the half-wall. The belt-unit didn't have a lot of power, but could absorb a few shots. Chloë was staring at her in surprise, and had no time to react before they connected, and fell in a heap between two beds.

She heard several more impacts, dull, wet thumps, followed by cries of pain. Then silence. She took a deep breath and stood, pulling the doctor up with her. She switched off her barrier, and turned to scowl at Garrus. "What the hell were you thinking? You never put a hostage in danger like that."

"What? I saw a shot and I took it." His mandibles flared angrily. "Should I have waited until after he shot you?"

She took up an aggressive stance, intent on facing Garrus down. "Doctor, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you." She sounded shaken, so Kara relented, sitting beside her on the edge of a narrow bed.

"My name is Kara Shepard," she said, smiling encouragingly. "The turian is Garrus Vakarian."

"We've met," the doctor declared. She showed no sign of recognizing Kara's name, which was always a good thing.

"Can you tell us who these people were?" Garrus asked, gesturing at the bodies.

"I don't know," Chloë said, shaking her head. "This isn't the safest part of the Citadel."

It wasn't, but a clinic hardly seemed like a good target for a robbery. She suspected that something unrelated to the quarian was going on. "Doctor. Chloë," Kara began softly, "I'd like to help, but I need you to trust me."

"It's… it's not important," Chloë sighed.

Garrus circled around them, frowning. "Could it have something to do with a quarian female you treated for a GSW?"

The doctor blinked at him in surprise. "How did you know about her? I didn't keep any records-"

"She may have vital information. I need to track her down."

Kara glared at the turian. "I know she's in trouble, Chloë. I can keep her safe."

"I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone," the doctor sighed, finally giving an uncertain nod. "She told me she had important information, and that she wanted to trade it to the Shadow Broker for protection. I tried to talk her out of it, but… rumor says that a man named Fist is one of the Broker's agents. He runs a club in sector fourteen named Chora's Den."

"Chora's Den? Isn't that where we found Harkin, Commander?" Alenko asked, standing near the door, as though just arrived. He was wearing armor, a pistol on his hip.

"It is," she nodded.

Garrus looked down at the three bodies, their clothes stained with blood, and sighed. "Doctor Michel, I'm going to bring in a team from CSec to clean this up, and see if we can't figure out who sent them. You'll be contacted if we have any questions."

"Doctor. Chloë," Kara began. She believed the woman knew more about who sent the thugs than she let on. "If you think of anything that might help, or if you think you're in danger, please, contact me."

The doctor nodded, but didn't look up. Something was bothering her, but Kara had no more time. "We have to go."

Kara surveyed the scene with some concern. Fist had, after some convincing, had admitted to arranging a meeting for the young quarian in a nearby warehouse, but not with the Shadow Broker. It was doubtful that the Broker met with anyone personally, but in this case the insipid bartender had betrayed his master and the quarian in exchange for a payout from Saren.

Standing in the shadows, Kara could see the quarian, wearing a purple environmental suit with a swirling pattern on its decorative cloth hood, which did a fine job of hiding her emotions as she stubbornly refused to give up the evidence. Most people would be intimidated by the three armed thugs that faced her, though they had not yet resorted to threats. It was her three-fingered hand that gave her nervousness away, creeping towards a grenade hooked on her belt, out of sight of the thugs.

They were equipped for a confrontation, unfortunately. Kara didn't like wandering about wearing armor and a pistol unless it was necessary, and even Kaidan hadn't suited up before joining her in the clinic. At least he was armed. She gestured silently her companions; circle behind them, and await my signal. He nodded, and pulled Garrus by the arm to get him to follow. They disappeared behind the stack of packing crates the filled the large space.

Kara turned her attention back to the confrontation. The mercenaries had subtly shifted their stances, a sure sign that they were preparing to attack. It was too soon. Without barriers, the quarian wouldn't last long.

Standing, Kara walked forward calmly. She must have looked absurd, an unarmed woman in civilian clothes marching up to three armored mercenaries, but she didn't let it stop her from placing herself squarely between them and their intended victim. "Back off," she ordered flatly. "She's under my protection."

The lead mercenary, a tall turian, took a swing at her with his assault rifle. She caught it and twisted, not quite wrenching the weapon from his hands, and using his momentum to throw him at a stack of crates.

She charged at the human, his brown eyes still wide with shock, ripping the rifle out of the hands of the salarian with a biotic field, catching it just before slamming into her target.

They fell to the ground, and as he struggled to throw her off she slammed the butt of her rifle into his faceplate, leaving a dense web of cracks obscuring his vision. She stood, kicking his weapon away as she turned to deal with the turian.

To her surprise, the quarian was herding him towards the salarian with his own rifle. Kara was about to comment, when Kaidan and Garrus ran into view, weapons ready. "What the hell?" Kaidan breathed.

Kara smirked, and planted her foot squarely on the chest of the fallen human. There was something oddly satisfying about so thoroughly trouncing the male of the species, which she could only attribute to more than three thousand years of ongoing oppression. "Take charge of the prisoners," she told them, tossing Kaidan her captured rifle.

"Excuse me, who are you?" the quarian demanded. Her eyes, glowing palely inside her suit, the only visible part of her face, shifted between them, and she nervously clutched her rifle.

"I'm Kara Shepard, with the Alliance. Thanks for watching my back," Kara said, giving the quarian a friendly smile. No doubt she needed a friend, after nearly a week on the run from the turian mercenary, Jacobus.

The young female lowered her rifle, and nodded faintly. "Thanks for the rescue."

"It's what I do," Kara smirked. She felt sure that it came out very wrong, as a mangled attempt at flirtation, or conceit. It was lingering energy from the fight, left with no other outlet. She forced her mouth into a more serious line. "I'm glad to help. What's your name?"

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," the quarian said. Her thin voice had a sharp edge to it, Kara decided, possibly a side effect of a stimulant. How long had she been up? "Call me Tali."

"Tali. My fellow human over there is Kaidan Alenko. The turian is Garrus Vakarian, from CSec. We came here looking for you."

"Me? Why?" Tali's grip on her rifle tightened. She stood her ground, though.

Kara held up her hands, still smiling. "I believe you recovered valuable information from the geth," she said. "I'm offering you the protection of the Alliance, in exchange for it."

"Right," the quarian said, her eyes closing briefly. "You'll handle it yourself?"

"Yes," Kara agreed. "If that's what you want."

"It's a deal," Tali agreed.

[1] Anglicization of 'etkure', meaning 'female turian'.

AN: For some reason, I don't like applying 'man/woman' to alien species. Probably because they share the same origin as 'human', the latin 'homo'. Hence 'eturi/eture', derived from 'turian'. It's been implied that I throw in made-up words too often, but I rather enjoy it.

Anyway. I thought of adding a scene with Fist, but it didn't seem to add anything in its conceptual stage. So I didn't. I'm pleased with the early introduction of Sayuri; Keyx was edited in for Pressly at the last minute. Hopefully, I can do a little better job of foreshadowing that which needs it, this time.

Thanks for reading.