The building, it turned out, was some kind of maintenance shed. A few farming vehicles and some rovers were in various states of repair, tools scattered about. Beyond that, the place looked deserted.

Face pinched, an aching little pain still stabbing her sinuses, Shepard scowled as she panned her rifle around the room. She was in no mood for games.

"Come out," she ordered. A moment later a pale human man peeked around one of the parked vehicles.

"You're human?" he asked. She lowered her rifle, squinting at him.

"Some of us are. Anyone else hiding in here?"

"N-no, it's just me…" he replied, then seemed to get agitated. "What are you doing here? They'll follow you, they'll come right in here!"

"They already knew you were here. They were trying to get in," she retorted.

"This guy is a weak coward," Grunt huffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Let's go, there are more things to fight."

"In a minute," Shepard told him, then looked at the man. "Can you tell me what exactly happened? You've got huge anti-craft guns but the Collector ship landed anyway…"

The man moved over to one of the benches, hands shaking as he sat down. "Goddamn Alliance gave us those guns," he said with a bitter lilt to his mouth. "Had to dig an enormous underground pit for the power systems, took us three months to get them installed and what happens? The targeting system doesn't work. We've been trying to get it fixed forever. That goddamn Williams has her thumb so far up her ass-"

Shepard stepped forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You mean Ashley Williams?"

"Yeah," he replied, seeming completely unaware of the fire being glared in his direction. "The Alliance rep they sent along with those damn guns. She wouldn't know a targeting pin switch-board from a hole in her-"

He yelped as Shepard suddenly snagged the front of his shirt, hauling him off his chair and pinning him to the wall. "Hey, leggo!"

"You ever speak of Ashley Williams like that again, and I'll eliminate even the possibility of you," she snarled. "That woman has put her life on the line again and again to protect whiny little piss ants like yourself."

Even as she glared into his terrified face, Shepard could feel the weight of both Grunt and Samara staring at her. If she wiped this pathetic civvie off the face of the map, what would be the reaction? Grunt would cheer her on, doubtlessly, but Samara would consider it unjust. She would do nothing now, bound by her oath, but after that oath was done with…

Oddly enough, it wasn't the fact that she might have to go toe-to-toe with the powerful asari at some future date that stayed her hand. It was the sheer weight of disappointment she imagined she could feel from the woman that seemed to cut deeper.

Besides, the guy was unarmed and a civvie. It would go against every fiber of who Shepard was to kill him. Beat the ever-loving shit out of him, that she could do…but not kill him.

"I'm sorry, jeez…leggo of me!" the civvie whined. Shepard released him with a frustrated shove, stepped back.

"Do you know where she is now?"

Rubbing his chest petulantly, the fellow shook his head. "I-I don't know. I remember seeing her when the ship came down. She was-"

"She was what?"

He shrugged, then sighed with reluctance. "She was covering the other colonists so they could try and get to the safe house," he admitted. "Shooting at those swarms. I saw her get bit, go all stiff-like…then I ducked in here and sealed the door. That's all I know."

Shepard stepped away from him, turning toward her companions. "If we can get those guns online we can hit that ship directly, disable it maybe," she told them. "We need to get to the targeting systems and see if we can't manage to re-open communications to the Normandy. EDI can scrub and recalibrate the system faster than any of us could."

"We must remain cautious," Samara urged gently. "That strange drone…the one that managed to incapacitate you-"

"That won't happen again," Shepard grit, then seemed to slump a little. "But…if it does…"

"We know what to look for," Samara nodded. She knew just as well as Shepard did that this wasn't simply a mission they could abandon. Risk or not, they had to continue on. Lives were at stake.

With a grateful nod, Shepard glanced back at the civvie. "We're going to hit those towers, get them online if we can and disable that ship. Stay here, and lock the door behind us."

"That won't be a problem," he replied.

Leaving the building, Shepard paused only to make sure the lock switched back to red before they continued on. Eerie silence surrounded them as they worked their way through courtyards and pre-fabs toward weapons control, and Shepard felt like her very teeth were on edge. Her gut, her usually infallible warning system, was completely in a knot, every fiber of her being screaming 'danger'…and yet there was nothing to be seen.

Empty buildings. Still air. No sign of Collector soldiers, no sign of those swarms that had been swirling about when they first arrived.

"Something doesn't feel right, Shepard," Grunt murmured, only echoing her sentiments.

"I feel it too," she told him. "Move slowly. Check all corners. Keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. The targeting systems aren't too far from here-"

"Shepard, there…do you see it?" Samara interrupted, pointing in the distance. Following her gaze, Shepard's eyes landed on what she at first took for packing crates…before she realized they were made of the same strange chitinous material the Collectors seemed to use for everything.

Moving cautiously that direction, the three kept their weapons ready, but nothing showed itself. Reaching the strange 'crates', Shepard gestured at Grunt and Samara to keep watch, as she shipped her weapon and approached the nearest one.

About seven feet long, the thing resembled more a pod than a crate. Most of it was that hard polysaccharide, but the top seemed to be made of a strange semi-transparency, revealing only half-seen shadows beyond, nothing clear. Taking a chance, she cupped her hand around her eyes, putting her face in close and trying to see within.

A tiny little hand suddenly plastered up against the transparency, fingers damp and pale but undeniably human.

Little human.

"Fuck," she gasped. "They're transport pods of some kind. The Collectors must be loading the colonists into them to carry them to the ship."

"Shepard, what are you doing?" Samara asked as the commander began to pry at the pod, trying to find a seam.

"There's a fucking kid in here," she replied, hauling her helmet off and setting it aside. Finding the seam but unable to pry it open, she unslung her rifle and set the safety, before slamming the butt into the joint. Again, then again, she slammed her weapon into the pod, then reshipped it, trying to pry it once more. This time, it reluctantly broke loose. Thin gas swirled out as she hefted the pod open, the smell like the wash of old mildew from a pile of forgotten laundry. Reaching into the pod she took hold of the child and lifted it out. Tiny, trembling arms wound around her neck.

"Shh, I gotcha," she whispered, going down to her knees and holding the child against her a moment. It was a little girl, perhaps no older than four or five years. Her long hair was damp and greasy, and some strange goo seemed to be clinging to her clothes. Shepard could see inside the pod now, and the interior seemed slathered with the stuff.

Some kind of preservation technique, maybe?

Drawing back just a little she looked at the child's face, stroking her hair back. She looked unharmed, just frightened and confused. She was still shaking, and latched back on to Shepard's neck with a whine.

"Hey, it's all right, sweetie," Shepard murmured. "You're safe now. What's your name?"

"E-E-Esmé," the child whispered, shivering. "The…the bugs-"

"The bugs aren't going to hurt you anymore," Shepard promised. "My name is Del. I'll keep them away from you, I swear."

"We can't carry a kid along with us," Grunt pointed out. "It's too dangerous."

"See if you can't get these other few pods open," Shepard told him. "There's got to be more colonists inside. Grown ones."

As he started prying open the containers, Shepard got to her feet, still holding little Esmé. Wishing she had something to wrap the child in she moved over to a corner, gingerly setting the girl down.

"No!" the child whined, clinging to her more tightly. As gently as she could, Shepard unwound her arms from around her neck, crouching in front of her.

"Shh, it'll be all right," she said. "I need to go help the people in the other boxes. I'll be right over there, you can see me the whole time. Ok? Can you be brave?"

The little girl looked terrified, but reluctantly nodded, hugging her arms around herself and drawing her knees up tightly, making herself as small as possible.

Shepard headed toward her companions, glancing back once to give the child a reassuring smile. Grunt had managed to get another pod open and lifted out an unconscious human man, also slimed. As he sat him down and started to work on the third pod, Shepard crouched and ran an omni-tool scan of the fellow.

"He's unconscious, but seems to be unhurt," she said, then reached out and lightly slapped the man's cheek. He stirred, coughing, then blinked. When he jolted in shock she grabbed his arm.

"Hey, take it easy. You're safe."

"Wh-what happened? Jonathan? Esmé?"

"Esmé's right over there," Shepard told him, gesturing to the child and then helping the man to his feet. As he stumbled toward the girl she rose and ran to him, flinging her arms around his legs.

"Grandpa!"

Drawing her pistol as she watched Grunt crack open the final pod, letting Samara tend to the teenage boy he lifted out. Shepard went back over to the older man. He was on his knees, hugging the child tightly, both still shaking.

"You know how to use a gun?" she asked. The civvie looked up at her, grim-faced before he nodded.

"Yeah, I can handle one."

"Good." She passed him the pistol, glancing over as the boy from the final pod started to cough, waking up. "I need you to take these two and head back in that direction. We've cleared out the colony this far but it's still not safe. Find a shady spot and hunker down. Rescue teams should be in shortly, as soon as we can get those guns online and disable that ship."

"Wh-what about the others?"

"We'll try and help anyone we can find but so far you've been it…the only mobile ones, anyway."

As the boy staggered over to them, the older man rose, catching hold of his arm and giving him a hug before looking at Shepard.

"You saved my grandchildren. I…after their mother died, I-…I can't thank you enough."

"I haven't saved anyone quite yet," Shepard said softly. "Go on. Take them somewhere safe. Someone will come find you once the colony is secure."

The teenage boy took Esmé from his grandfather and as he did, Shepard gave the girl a little smile, reaching out and touching her hair. "You keep being brave, ok kiddo?"

The civvies gone, Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, then checked her rifle's clip. "Come on, let's keep moving."

At first she thought the low groan was a wounded colonist. The odd electrical charge in the air had not abated, and her gut had not settled in its dance of warning, even after they'd saved the small family in the pods. They had reached a new cluster of pre-fabs without spotting a single Collector, a frozen civvie, or any more of those odd transport pods. The groan came from the open door of one of the pre-fabs, and even as Shepard heard it, Grunt turned his head that direction as well.

"Smells funny," he rumbled. "Like…dry deep earth and…the air from a storm, maybe. Strange…"

Shepard squinted as she lifted her rifle to her shoulder, aiming it at the dark doorway, taking a hesitant step forward. When the shape appeared in the shadows, it looked like a man, but she recognized the odd shambling gait with a start, even before she spotted the faint blue light sheening from its eyes.

Her gunfire took both krogan and asari by surprise. Flame popped four times from the muzzle of her rifle and she could hear the dry fwap as they struck home, but the shambling form didn't fall. Instead it increased speed, suddenly rushing forward out of the dark.

She stitched two more shots over its chest, a final one breaking its head apart like ceramic filled with ash. As the thing collapsed, she heard more groans lifting all around them.

"They're fucking husks," she snapped, sweeping her gun around. "And a fuck of a lot of them from the sound."

"They're not human?" Samara asked.

"Not anymore," Shepard replied. "Light 'em up!"

From the surrounding pre-fabs suddenly poured dozens of the twisted things, each a gray caricature of a human being, lined with glimmering cybernetics. Gunfire and biotics filled the air and half of the first wave collapsed, bodies breaking apart like old leaves. The sheer number soon overwhelmed their gunfire, however, and they found themselves falling back. Shepard grit her teeth as she continued to rake their number with bullets but too many were breaking through, and soon were too close to shoot.

Dropping her rifle she decked one with a roundhouse, stumbling it back. On her return swing her elbow slammed into the jaw of a second that was groping for her, breaking it loose. Teeth fell with soft pats, the broken hinge of bone dangling from the desiccated face but there was no reaction of pain, nothing but a faint stagger before it was reaching for her again. Driving the first one back once more with a kick to the chest, she grabbed the hanging mandible and ripped it off before jamming the end of it into glowing blue eyes.

Somehow she managed to reach her dagger, drawing her remaining pistol with her other hand, baring her teeth in a taut, maniacal grin. "Let's dance, fuckers."

The blade whipped, nearly decapitating one before sweeping in low and digging into the gut of another. The pistol barked and a head exploded. Ripping her blade out she turned and fired again, dropping another, slashing her blade over a reaching arm and driving it back with a kick before putting it down with another pair of well-placed shots.

Something swept over her head and she ducked, slamming her elbow into a back as she straightened, airing out yet another skull.

She could barely see through her face-plate, the air filled with dust and dry, ashen bits of husk. A hand groped over her helmet and she dug her blade into the mummified meat of a bicep, wrenching the arm away and laying a bullet into a temple before casting the body away from her. As it collapsed, writhing on the ground she removed more of its skull with a second shot, watching as it fell still. Glancing around quickly, she saw that there were no more husks on their feet. Grunt strode up to one that was still trying to crawl and unloaded a shotgun round into its face with a satisfied bark of triumph.

"By the Goddess-"

She heard Samara's voice and turned. Her face-plate filled with blue and something rammed into her, hard enough to lift her off her feet and send her crashing to the ground.

A form loomed just a few yards away, a form that at first her addled brain couldn't get around, other than to register that it was big.

Coughing, she scrambled back up to her feet even as Grunt also oriented on the target, baring his teeth in a growl as he lifted his shotgun.

"The fuck is that?" Shepard gasped, really seeing the monstrosity for the first time.

The thing was hideous, horrible. It was as if someone had taken a dozen of the very husks they'd just fought and melted them together in a twisted, nightmarish mutation that was slowly staggering toward them. Enormously top-heavy, the thing could only shuffle but all of its eyes were alight with manic intelligence, and when it lifted a pair of its hands, she could see they were bright with biotics.

A breath later those very biotics were sailing toward them again. Shepard leapt to the side to avoid the flashing wave of blue, then rolled. Her pistol barked three times, and she cursed as she saw the unmistakable spark of shields.

Samara, alive with her own power, sent a concussive wave toward the beast as the commander scrambled to her feet, shipping her pistol and snatching her rifle up off the ground. Thunder bloomed from both her gun and Grunts as they let loose on the nightmare, yet the shields continued to flash, the thing still coming on.

An idea came to her. Turning she ran toward one of the nearby benches, tossing aside her rifle again and snatching a grenade from her belt. "Samara!" she barked. "Boost!"

Not slowing, she leapt up onto the bench and then launched herself off of it. She felt the warm energy of biotics suddenly embrace her, thrusting her up and through the air, far higher and farther than she could ever have leapt on her own. Ten, fifteen feet high, Shepard felt her leap crest and the biotics fall away as her jump arced and began its descent.

She crashed hard into the monster, slinging an arm around one of its heads even as she set the grenade with her free hand. The thing writhed and shifted underneath her in a nauseating pulse, and she could feel teeth slipping over her hard-suit from a dozen different mouths. Long arms lifted up to tear her free, one grasping her leg even as she shoved the set grenade into the nearest gaping maw.

The hand on her leg hauled and she felt her grip torn away. For a moment the world swung upside down and then it went bright with fire, and she was flying again…straight into darkness.

"Two more days," Shrive promised as she set out the plates and glasses. "Two more days and we'll be on our way to Aratoht and off this station."

"I don't mind the station so much," Eír replied. "It's…different."

"Yeah, and every other asari on it is a stripper hanging from a pole," Shrive smirked. "It's no wonder our people have such a bad reputation."

"True," Eír admitted, then giggled and flung her arms around Shrive's waist from behind, hugging her. "But it's not Tuchanka, and I get you all to myself so…I have to like it just a little bit."

Shrive laughed, twisting in Eír's arms and holding her in return. "I suppose," she said. "I guess I just prefer being on a planet…feeling wind and dirt. And you will still have me all to yourself on Aratoht, too."

"Promise?" Eír asked, leaning forward just enough to kiss the other girl's chin.

"Of course I promise," Shrive murmured in return.

"And Teful is sure you have the job?" Eír asked, letting her lips trail down the side of Shrive's neck.

"Yes, it's in the bag," Shrive replied, letting her eyes fall closed. "The batarians aren't over fond of asari but it's not like we're humans. And training security troops…just my thing."

"Uh huh," Eír whispered, nuzzling in again, nibbling slightly. Shrive let out a soft laugh.

"You keep that up and dinner is going to get cold…again."

"Who needs dinner?" Eír teased, pulling her closer as she smirked, then kissed her properly. A moment later, a faint chirping broke through the air.

"Is that your omni-tool?" Shrive asked as the kiss broke. Eír sighed faintly in frustration, drawing back enough to look at the offending device.

"It's that strange ident again. It's not from Tuchanka…who else would keep calling me?"

"Why don't you answer it and find out?" Shrive asked. Eír gave her a dry look and Shrive smiled before ducking forward, murmuring in her ear.

"Answer it while I finish dinner," she said. "Then you'll have me for the rest of the night, I promise."

"You drive a tough bargain," Eír smiled before drawing reluctantly back. As Shrive headed back into the small kitchenette, Eír accessed the call and set it to holographic project.

A shimmer of light resolved itself into another asari, a stranger. Eír blinked at her, brows knit a little. "Yes, who are you?"

"Is this…is this Eír?" the stranger asked.

"Yeah," Eír hedged. "Do I know you?"

"No…Thug gave me this contact number," the stranger replied. "My…my name is Liara. Liara T'Soni."

Eír blinked, stiffening and staring a moment. Liara T'Soni. Benezia's other daughter, the archaeologist…the one that Gellian thought so little of. She knew of her only through the vague tank imprints, the false history 'memories' and Gellian's rare, casual mentions.

"You are Benezia's daughter," she heard herself blurt. Shrive, overhearing, stepped out of the kitchenette, watching her with surprised concern.

"Yes…her other daughter, from what I understand," Liara replied. "I…I only found out about you a couple of days ago, Eír…and about Gellian's death. I wanted to introduce myself, make sure you are all right."

"I…I'm…you are my sister," she said with dawning wonder, as the true implications finally filtered through her surprise.

"Yes, on a genetic level if nothing else," the older asari responded.

Eír's head was spinning. She had never dreamed she'd actually talk to Benezia's daughter. The imprints left by the tank were so flat, dry…having the three-dimensional reality in front of her was a surreal experience.

"Wh-where are you?" Eír asked, more emotion than she expected coming through her voice. "I'm…I'm all right, we're all right, I mean, Shrive is here…did Thug tell you about Shrive? We're here on Omega and…where are you? Can I see you?"

"Shh, slow down love," Shrive murmured, moving closer but not interfering in the call.

"I am on a secure base," Liara replied. "Unfortunately I cannot disclose an exact location. Thug mentioned you might be on Omega, but that your final destination could lay elsewhere. I…if…if you wanted to meet…face to face, I mean…I could be on the station within twenty-four hours."

"Yes!"

"Eír," Shrive warned gently, but the girl ignored her.

"Yes, please…please, we are leaving in two days to go to Aratoht…Shrive got a job there, but we'll be here on Omega until then. If you can…please come. I want to talk to you, see you."

"I-will make arrangements," Liara replied. "I may have to bring a companion of my own, if that is all right?"

"Yes, yes, of course! We have a temporary apartment just off the main station plaza. I will send you the address."

Her fingers were shaking as she input the location into her omni-tool, sending it to Liara. The older asari looked at her own, then nodded.

"I have it. I will meet you tomorrow evening then…and we can talk."

As the call ended, Shrive moved over and touched her companion's arm. "Eír," she said softly. "Are you sure about this?"

"She's my sister, Shrive," Eír replied with a shake of her head. "I…I never had a sister before. Never spoke to anyone who actually knew Benezia…well, except Mother but…she wouldn't tell me much. I…is it wrong of me? Is it strange that I want to know…about her, I mean?"

"Of course it isn't," Shrive soothed, taking her shoulders. "It's perfectly natural, Eír. But you have to be careful-"

"Careful? Why?"

"Because you are forgetting something, love," Shrive said carefully. "Commander Shepard."

"Shepard?" Eír stiffened, face hardening as confusion faded away in the wake of understanding. "…Liara was there when Benezia died. When Shepard…"

"You still hate her," Shrive said sadly. "You still want to kill her…"

"I cannot help it," Eír bemoaned. "It is like…like trying to control hiccups. I do not want to but when I hear her name it…it just rises inside me. And it isn't even my hatred, its Mother's…Mother's hatred she imprisoned inside of me…"

"And you will overcome it, Eír. You will defeat it, rise above what Gellian had planned for you," Shrive said firmly, cupping the girl's face and looking intently into her eyes. "You just have to be careful tomorrow. Liara said she would bring a companion. If that companion is Shepard-"

Eír felt herself go cold. If it was Shepard, she didn't know if she'd be able to control herself. Seeing the woman in person, so soon…who knows what she would do? Even she couldn't predict how she would respond if she came face to face with the commander.

"You will be there," she said after a moment's thought. "You can greet them. If it is Shepard, then you can warn me, warn them. I...want to kill her but it is not my own desire. Mother is dead and her desires must die with her. You must make them understand."

"All right, sweetie, all right," Shrive soothed with a nod. "I will be there, and I will run interference. We will take it as it comes."

The taste of copper was the first thing she became aware of…then the distant, gentle snaps of her helmet being unfastened. She felt hands cradling her neck as it was drawn off, a soft breeze filtering across her face.

She struggled her eyes open, blinking up at Samara, the asari peering down in concern.

"Commander…"

She tasted blood again. Shaking off a glove, she lifted her hand and lightly probed at her face. Her helmet face-plate had shattered on impact…probably with something hard-edged and pointy. She'd had to have hit it pretty damn hard to break the plate, and was probably lucky she even had a goddamn face left.

"Be careful, there are still some shards embedded in your skin," Samara said, lightly plucking out the offending broken pieces even as she spoke. Shepard grimaced as she dropped her hand aside. Busted lip, busted nose flooding blood down her chin, and a small gash over her eye. Nothing too upsetting…she'd gotten worse during boxing matches in boot.

Her neck and shoulders ached a bit but she didn't think anything was broken. Carefully she pushed herself up into a sit, mopping at her bleeding nose. Given where she was laying, it looked like she'd landed face first into the edge of one of the heavy pre-fabs stairways. A half-dozen yards away, what was left of that twisted abomination was a pile of dust, meat, and char.

Samara tried to support her as she moved up to her feet but Shepard shook her head, drawing away a little. "I'm all right. Bit woozy but it'll pass."

"That thing…that thing was wrong, Shepard," Grunt mumbled, gesturing at the desiccated mess. Then he handed her the ruined helmet in his hand. "You look like you had a good fight. Too bad it was with a set of stairs."

Shepard shook her head, snatching the ruined helmet from his hand and looking over it. "What, you missed the great big walking pile of disgusting I tackled before the stairs? Best check your eyesight, Grunt."

"Oh, I didn't miss that," he said, and bumped his big fist on her arm. "Shiagur would have been proud."

Shepard spit a mouthful of blood to the side, mopping off her face as best she could before tossing her ruined helmet away.

"Are these the colonists?" Samara asked, regarding the remains of the ruined husks, the abomination. "Why would the Collectors pack some of them into those containers, and yet turn others into these…"

"They didn't," Shepard said, then spat again, testing a tooth and deciding that it wasn't loose enough to come out. "I saw those things on Eden Prime…the little ones, anyway. They were made by impaling people on these spikes…the Alliance calls them 'dragon's teeth'. We haven't seen any of those here. My bet is these things came with the Collectors. Those dragon's teeth are Reaper-tech though…which kind of puts a pin in the idea that the Collectors are working for the Reapers. As if I needed any more proof of that."

"Any species that does this sort of thing to another must be stopped, Shepard."

"A-fucking-men to that," Shepard agreed. "We still need to get those guns online and time is running out. Let's move."

The targeting and automated control systems for the huge Alliance anti-craft guns were in a small, reinforced building just at the edge of the colony. The Collector ship was looming like some kind of monolithic portent of doom, its shadow casting dark over the building in the late afternoon. Once inside, Shepard accessed the communications port to boost her own comm signal, knowing that both EDI and Mordin had to be working on getting contact through the dampening signal being put out by the ship.

"Normandy, this is Shepard. Can you read me?" she asked. A hiss of static came through and she grimaced, readjusting the frequency. "Normandy…this is Commander Shepard. Please respond."

{…sssssss…ttth…mmmmm...JJJoooker Commander Shepard, are you receiving?}

"That's affirmative Joker, I hear you," she said with relief. "EDI, we're at the targeting station for the colony's anti-craft guns. The guns are miscalibrated and we need to get them online…can you rectify?"

{Errors in targeting software will take a short amount of time to correct,} came the response. {It will take longer to fully power the guns to firing capacity, and I will be unable to mask the increased output. The enemy ship will detect it easily and no doubt send soldiers to address the threat.}

"I'm not an easy threat to address," Shepard replied. "Get on it. I need these guns fixed and that ship disabled yesterday. We'll hold this position secure."

{Linking with the computer systems now, Shepard. ETA for full rectification, twenty minutes.}

"All right," Shepard looked at the krogan and the justicar. "They're going to catch on to us fast, and as soon as they do, they're going to be throwing everything they've got at this position. We hold this building no matter what. Those guns have got to get online…everything else is secondary."

Grunt grinned. So far, Shepard had kept her word. Their enemies were definitely worthy, and she had lead battles fierce enough to stir any krogan's blood. She didn't hesitate to rush into a fray, to confront impossible odds. For a human she had proven quite…tolerable, so far.

He was glad he hadn't killed her.