In a seedy strip club in Kay'Una'al Holosphere, Casnar waits among the rear tables under a panoply of mirrors that reflect the entire venue, so far as the first floor. A dancer walks by with her tebral frills a golden flicker under the warm lights; she stops next to his table to offer him a lap dance for five hundred credits' worth of dragus. Casnar can afford it, but he flips his wrist, shoos her away. She ruffles the folds along her slender waist, attracting the eye with its scintillation and attractive spines along the symmetrical rows of silken-soft skin ridges, valleys that appeal to a drell, "…Suit yourself, Handsome." She starts to depart, the delicate veiny pattern of purple capillarylike stretches of color reaching through her turquoise skin, that darken as she goes between inverted light cones from the ceiling, her form dipping into shadows. "Won't be your loss if you should change your mind..." Casnar watches her leave and quells the urge to mate—what with the draw of enhanced pheromones, tebral signals from her lovely curves and lines…A trap if anything…to capture a Tyrannus's seed, a future between her legs, …Should I give in? It is hard to draw his eyes away…How long has it been since I last fucked? He knows only too well.

Casnar drops his emerald eyes to a holocard in his golden fingers. He tilts it back and forth, to see Braith and him move from cheek to cheek to their noses touching in the holoimage…he took over nineteen years ago…

"She always had a nice smile," someone says with a dark and husked tonal purring in the velvet quality of voice—heard there in the rear of the strip club by Casnar's tenesses among the music thumping in the background for the dancers on their stages or in their patron's laps…

Casnar looks up—at the shadowed presence of a jungle-green face; black eyes; crimson-red tebris hidden under the collar of a thick black trenchcoat, its fold along the neckline pressed inward to raise its covering up to the drell's buccals and nape that are overhung by green crests; black smooth skull between these ridges along his scalp. Casnar sets the holocard down in the center of the black tabletop, nods once—rather a jerk of motion down and up with his gold chin. "Have a seat…Let's get it out, in the open…So it won't hassle us when we're in the midst of—" Casnar pulls himself short from his finishing statement, "…I presume you are here," he says, a long drawl to the words, "…to lend me help…"

Thane Krios lifts his chin to look at the venue through the mirrors all round them. He can see everything in the venue—all who come and go through the doors and up and down from the red-lit stages…Casnar in his coat, thick collar up to violet buccals of tebris, under golden jaw. "Casnar," Thane turns glossy black eyes downward, "…you surprise me. I thought you were back to old ways, returned to slumming the strip—as when you did while you worked for the Primacy…but I think you selected this location with more thought towards our reunion. How did you know I would come."

"I guessed you would not pass on the opportunity to see her," Casnar curls fingers towards the holocard of he, Braith, on the tabletop, light emitted by the card that gives a clear defined cast of colors for skins, eyes, clothes, Casnar's tebris, Braith's hair…It was shorter when the shot was taken. "That, and if Suet could find you, you would be sure to answer."

Thane studies the other drell's eyes as a waitress comes by and, wearing nothing around her nethers, asks for his order.

"Water, thank you," Thane requests as he pulls back a chair, takes the seat for himself. His hand feels beneath the table, a subharmonic blip echoes in the implant of his neck, to inform him his omnitool's scan pings Casnar's concealed weapons. "You're in trouble."

Casnar nods. "Front doors. Three Drells, seated directly in front…Souledivinie," Casnar moves his lips with some feigned distortion—to prevent an accurate lip-read by observers. "Thane." His sharp eyes do not move from the other's. "You're in this—Whether you want to be or not. I doubt you came all the way from where you were hiding to inform me personally of your decline to what I wrote in that letter."

Thane's features don't register change—nor surprise at this. His pupils on the holoimage, it shifts to Casnar and Braith nuzzling each other. It shifts once again—to their eyes looking up at what would have been Casnar's camera that took the four-dimensional. Braith's freckles and smile call on memories. "No, Casnar," Thane remembers…he loves Braith, "…I would not have traveled all the way—have left a Saharan desert, full of dunes, sunsets, so I could simply tell you to pound sand." He gazes at Braith's eyes. "After what you did." The golden hiriwa's countenance brooks no gloat. Thane sees years on Casnar, but he has aged in his eyes alone. The bulk, jaw—strong and formidable still...Braith's type was ever the constant, hard warrior, Thane thinks with some accolade, …It is not a wonder she was attracted to him, and he to her. "Where is your vessel," Thane asks as the waitress hands him a glass of water. He holds it before his lips, inhales the liquid's aroma through his delicate nostrils before he breathes inwards to taste more properties by special olfactory glands of mouth. The cup is a device by which his hand and it together can conceal what he speaks to Casnar, too far for others to read by mirrors.

"I was hoping you would bring that solution when you decided to come." Casnar continues to make the distortions with his lips, includes his tebral folds to throw off observers, "…I'm tired of being considered regular at this club, waiting for you." His eyes flick between Thane and the mirrors. "What's that stare? You didn't teleport yourself from New Africaas now did you?"

Thane's pupilar discs reflect light—coins of sun in solar lenses—his focus shifts, "…You knew where I was."

"We're on Kahje, Thane—Not Rakhana, remember? Computers exist not on my homeworld…Certainly not some godsforsaken desert on Earth," Casnar rolls his wrists, sleeves against his chest, soft creak of leather in its tightening as he takes breath, lets it out through his nostrils. "You couldn't have pilgrimaged to the Mier? What are you doing on Earth."

"It was something I planned—" Casnar cuts him off, not wanting to hear who it might, might not have been planned with.

"Technology occurs on Rakhana as infrequently as a pimple occurs on an Asari's face," Casnar leans forward, "…That's to mean it does happen…Mainly in my family's city and few places else…You took your time," his eyes hold cold consideration, the light from the card reaches his emerald-greens, "…I had time to kill. I used my time investigating your whereabouts."

Thane raises an index finger over the hollow of his opposite hand's knuckle—clasped as these are, before the glass of water that now sits between himself and the holocard. He gives an annoyed blink with both pairs of eyelids.

Ynesra B'ahroueyhn looks over—The golden hiriwa from Nualavera, slumming at the club for several weeks but curiously not taking anyone to his lap, or a private room, removes a billfold, and curls a golden finger towards the waitress. He takes out a bedi from several in the leatherslip—and her eyes move to the drell across from him, with the black scalp, green crests. Tebral spines in full salute, she intervenes on the waitress's call-to by Casnar, plucking up a waxstick from a table, and setting it between her teeth.

Bells sound from round her wrists and ankles…Thane does not turn, but can see her between the waitress and Casnar. Ynesra bows, places her arms upon the table. Bells stop their idyllic tinkle. Turning her crests, she lights Casnar's bedi tip with flame on the end of the wax held between her lips. Casnar pulls on the leaf while her violet eyes look from his that do not gaze into hers—whether from disinterest, reluctance—to the holoimage of he and the human. He slides the holocard into his sleeve and sits back. Thane hears the drellahna introduce herself. "My name is Ynesra…" She looks from the sleeve to the golden drell, "…Someone break your heart?"

"She did." Thane hears the truth in the drell's words…The gold drell turns his face to the club's front. "Ynesra, I have a request…"

"Ask away, Beautiful," she falls quiet next, waits expectantly for him—but Casnar doesn't tell Ynesra what she hopes to be his response.

Casnar looks across the table at Thane. "There are three Drells with hats on their crests, at the entrance tables. I'd like to hire yourself, and six others…Go over, distract them while we slip out the back. Chit's on file, Ynesra…Charge whatever you think is a fair reward for each of you—if you keep their focuses here for an hour."

"How much is fair," she glances at the drell across from him—her shimmery eyes pass the front of the joint before she returns her gaze, "…We could screw you over, rip you off—hard, too…" The bedi lifts from his lips, she sets it to her own, then blows out a thin jet stream between them.

"With the going rate of five hundred credits' a dance," Casnar looks between the dissipation of bedi smoke to her sloughing eyes, "…a thousand each…would be fair for your troubles…" He directs his eyes to the bedi in her fingertips—sadly wishes someone else's lips were on the end she has touched with her own, with a smear of lipstick creamy and clear. "That would be justifiable, what with our need for discretion—and reciprocation. I have paid the club's rental, legal fees to operate in this holosphere—despite Primacy's prohibition with such business activity—to go concern for…what, say two, three Kahjic standard years?"

She passes the bedi to his waiting hand. "I'll do it for ten grand tops—with one addition."

"What," his voice gruffs—Thane placidly observes the discomfort in Casnar's shoulders, "…stipulation."

The drellahna gives him an even look. "A kiss."

Casnar shakes his head. "Eleven thousand." He swiftly moves the bedi to a tray of sand, at the table's edge beside Ynesra's elbow. To Thane, "…I'm going to take a leak." He pushes back his chair, stands to turn for the rear, "…Join in about…two minutes. I really do need to take a piss." He glances at Ynesra, "…We can go out the lower exit to catch the monosub-rail."

Ynesra nods—disappointment hidden. Casnar looks at Thane, then up, over his crests to the dancers on the stage. He takes his leave.

Ynesra straightens from the table, looks at Thane, "…You're all set?"

Thane looks up—and smiles empathetically, "I am…Don't take his dismissal personally. He is in love with the lady in the holo, Nefen…B'ahroueyhn."

Casnar waits below—The subterranean commute tunnels run for kilometers throughout the ground of the holosphere, molten rock years ago, now carved into a network of vast black tunnels lit with glowing warm lights. He pulls a fresh bedi, holding out for Thane.

A dark silhouette comes from the arch of an apsed tunnel wall, adjacent to the quay. "Take your time," the bedi hung from his lips, Casnar bothers not a glance to the other, "…Where to."

With a tilt of browscales, Thane indicates forward in the tunnel expansion ahead. They fall into step.

"You were about to say something," Thane's voice expands into the muffle of the underground commute-way, it bounces off stone, under yellow lights, "…before you pointed out Souledivinie."

"And?"

"What did you mean: Let's get it out, in the open?"

Casnar removes the bedi. "I love her, Thane. I had a part in disrupting what existed between you two. Before she and I."

Without elaboration, he replies. "We were close." Casnar listens, Thane is silent.

"She told me you two would be fine…At the time, I had no idea it was actually you—She did mention your having a deceased wife. She regretted you would never love her the same way you do Iri…Braith didn't expect to replace her." They continue to walk along in silence—on the quay that borders the steep grooves of tunnel which lead to rails for guiding subtrains. Stairs, marked-off by blue tiles, appear after a bend—barrel walls, girders support the ascents. Casnar's voice is heard, "…Thanks."

Thane—nothing to contribute.

They attain the stairs but must pass through meters, that collect fare so one may access the subroute rides...Neither scan through. Instead they climb the meters and land on the other side. One in front of another, they ascend the case.

The case opens noisily into the station used for entering the commuter network. Both cut through a cafeteria, full of small restaurants, concession stands. Both Drells survey the area—and assure they are not the focus of any additional tails that pick up from the cafeteria stalls.

"I took a vessel from Earth." Thane says discretely, "…It is between Douybeta and Can'ninee holospheres, over at Dermoyt…There is a fjord east of it by which the vessel awaits our departure. We can shuttle over to the station. The lift is this way. Switch to another once we arrive there to make our rendezvous." They pass multiple rows of kiosks for ticket sales.

"I can rent a ride, if necessary."

"Credits leave a trail." Thane glances at the view through the golfball-dimpled glass of the station. Dark moody gray skies.

"Not if you remove the software, upload a program to handle the ride."

"What did you bring," Thane glances at the wares in a stand they pass after the kiosks, some of it tech and mods to be bought off the black market, "…I thought your access to tech was limited on Rakhana."

"What I need. Not more than what I needed."

Thane allows his patak to express, one raised-eyeridge, aimed at Casnar, "…That holocard?"

"You don't know," Casnar swallows the dryness in his throat, "…What that woman's done…to me…Yes, a necessity."

"I cannot imagine." Thane's 'sleepy' emotions awaken to allow a hint of resentment through his sarcasm.

Thane and Casnar stop their pace, turn to face each other. "Let's be clear, Thane," Casnar flicks his bedi into a trash-incineration tube, jams his hands into his coat. "…We get her back—everyone, but her especially, I intend to marry Braith. Don't you dare challenge me for her, too."

Thane makes not a blink. "Why do you say too. Are there others challenging you?"

Casnar turns, hesitation in his grimace—sets himself forward into motion, "…No—well, one other. He's my only allowance…"

"Your only allowance?"

"He's earned at least a chance!" Casnar snaps bad-temperedly, no further explanation. Thane, intrigued by Casnar's mystifying answer, looks on.

"I did not earn?…" Thane's words fall short at Casnar's stiff finger, jutting from his golden knuckles in warning—not to venture forth with more controversial sentiments to Casnar's own. Thane sighs. They walk in cool silence.

They reach the fjord—without delay or incident. Thane brings Casnar aboard the Ni S'pri ( North Light ) — vessel, which has sections: Crew, Recreation, Simulation and Training, Medical, Arsenal as well as Galley, Planning and Navigations. Casnar gets a tour of the Ni S'pri, and meets the few of crew.

Casnar stares—a large silver, orange krogan, blue eyes that slit at him, standing between bulkhead's doorway. Thane is ahead of Casnar. He introduces his brother-in-law to Urdnot Grunt and a lanky turian with the right of his head wounded by old disconfiguring scars that leave the mandible with a plate to brace the parts. They are seated at a card table—in the middle of a game that the turian appears to be winning by a pile of credits before his hand. "Please," Casnar says under-breath, "…don't tell me…We can't be bringing those two with us."

With a gesture to the krogan and Turian, "…Across from Grunt, Garrus Vakarian…Close colleagues of Braith, though it has been a few years." Thane looks from the pair at the table, to Casnar. "This is my brother-in-law Casnar Soterios."

"The usurper of Krios's battlemate," Grunt growls—sharp teeth bare in a lipless maw. Grunt doesn't think…He has already weighed, and determined, to use them.

Turians have not set boot on Rakhana, nor had to deal with the self-cloistered house-clans and civilizations that fiercely defend the surface from influence of foreigners not of their rakkan—Garrus lowers the hand of cards to cloth, and stands, extending legs to cross to Thane and Casnar. With a turian doff of his crownlike horns, following through with a handshake that Casnar grasps with reluctance: "Spirits," the mandibles spread, "…were you malnourished as a young drell, Thane?…Your brother-in-law is the size of a krogan…A little on the lean side, but I didn't realize Drells could get this large." His mandibles close tightly to his jaw, …Might pose a concern for Turians, if these ever organize and get theirselves a space-worthy navy…Look at him…I hope they're not all built like him…

Casnar does not smile or frown. He keeps his expression neutral—as Garrus sizes him up, pulls in his scent, that bespeaks of Kahje and rakkan dust, and something else that reminds him of disturbing thoughts…Grunt smells it, too, but has not thought it over yet, so makes no remark of his imprints in his head.

"He don't look so big…" Grunt breathes in the smell of Rachni—and pushes his chair to stand with his thighs' armor scraping against the metal seat. His massive thoracic hump must incline forward, so he doesn't hit the ceiling. Casnar and he stand eye to eye.

"Garrus, Grunt were available to answer my request for aide." Thane watches the encounters between Drellkind—Rakhïk Drellkind—and both Turian and Krogan representatives from Palaven and Tuchanka, respectively, from his stance by Casnar's shoulder. "There is…one more you will meet who chose to spare the time—and lend us her talents to help reacquire Braith."

Casnar turns his face to Thane, "…I misjudged you. I assumed you were taking your time to come to Kahje, but you've been gathering aide. My apology."

Thane lifts his chin. "You can ask questions later." Thane turns from Casnar to the pair. "Is Miranda in Navigation or her quarters?"

"Neither. Check the Arsenal." Thane nods thanks for Garrus's answer, looks briefly to Casnar—himself, he returns a thoughtful gaze at the turian and Krogan, both considering him. With a departing nod, Casnar leaves and goes out with Thane. "We'll discuss thoughts later," Garrus leans towards Grunt as they turn back to the card table, "…I want to finish the game. By the way," he lifts his mandibles with irritation, "…I can see you hiding that card into your glove's compartment for spare ammo. Nice try, Grunt. Put it back with its pile. Play square with me," he taps the Omni-visor over his left eye to remind Grunt he's not as myopic as most Turians are assumed to be.

Grunt rumbles—a low, steady percolation from his chest, "…Thought you didn't see."

Casnar looks over Thane's shoulder, into the Arsenal—it takes on more the appearance of a smith shop than a stock area for the Ni S'pri. A woman, wearing a gray suit, tucks a lock of brown hair behind an ear. A monocle over her right eye—her face rises to their presence. "Soterios."

Casnar closes his gape. "Lawson."

"You…know each other." Thane looks from Miranda to Casnar.

She lifts the monocle to brow, from over her blue iris, "…Yes," both Miranda's eyes now focused on Casnar's face, "…regrettably."

Casnar, rubbing his palms on his coat front, "…You know my Braith?"

"I raised her from the dead, courtesy of Lazarus," Miranda says matter-of-factly. "I was also of the few who helped her with reining in her biotics. With and without amps...Thane's informed us she's been using her biotics, per your letter…"

Casnar nods, gives himself a little shake. "I haven't…seen it happen—Not with my own eyes, but others have witnessed her abilities…She's used the power to attack…cities…I could give less shit for some, but the results are impressive. There's something happening to some of the countryside. Rumor tells, it's due to her doings."

Casnar, not forgotten how pretty the woman, admits she has aged well—since last he saw her, back when Irikah was alive, before Kolyat was born. The accent is thick, full of memories…The distance in blue eyes seems closer now, than ever they were…"Her results should be impressive," he hears her remark, their eyes unmoving from each other's. Brown hair comes free of its tuck behind her porcelain ear to fall over her brow.

"You anyone else you'd like to surprise me with?" Casnar looks to Thane.

Thane looks back, uncertain of the pair. "They are all you will find on this ship. Now…where must we go, to prepare and plan for what we will address on Rakhana, Casnar?"

"A cave in the Mier. I'll direct you, once we've reached Rakhana, Thane."

Thane glances at Miranda and back to Casnar, "…I will get the ship on its way." He passes Casnar, out into the artery between rooms, leaving the two.

Miranda picks a tool and pieces she is in the midst of applying to a mod for a piece of armor, set on the table below her hands, white light aglow underneath her face. Hair falls over shoulder as she looks left—away from his accusatory stare. "I'm sorry, Casnar," her lips hardly moving, "…Never thought I'd see you again."

"And yet…here we are," the hint of anger in his voice, now Thane is gone, they are alone.

Miranda does not look at him. "I'm sorry…about Irikah. Feels like it has to be said."

Casnar moves his head, slowly up and down. "Thank you, I guess."

"She was very bright." Miranda makes herself look up, briefly. "She should have stayed with the medicine. She had it down right."

Casnar's jaw tenses, his tebral spines rise, "…Yes," his gaze drops to the floor, "…I figured she had had it right when the antidote went missing…So did you."

Miranda fixes eyes to the parts in her fingers…to the light from the table, bright under her.

Casnar turns. He leaves. Miranda jerks the monocle off her head, slows from smacking it down on the glass table. She purses her lips, pale in the broad glow, and sets the monocle among the tools and parts. Her fingers probe the skin of her forehead.

Casnar moves down the artery—to where the cockpit exists, at the ship's fore. He comes to a stop, puts his arm out, against the curve of wall. His other hand passes his crests.

Casnar pushes off and continues on towards the cockpit.

Rakhana opens—and Thane is intrigued to see its paleness, formerly lackluster mystique now marbled into greens and purples. They fly low out of orbit over the Mier as it encompasses two-fifths of shoreline. Casnar sits in a seat, beside Thane's shoulder as the drell flies the vessel over the sands, coasting just above the higher reaches of the dunes. Several worm trails—made by berens—pass beneath the ship. Casnar makes note of these—their distance in relation to Nualavera's borders…On the current map in front of his eyes, he adds markers.

"How is Kolyat," Thane suddenly asks him. Casnar diverts attention from the gridlines in front of him—towards Thane attending the control of the Ni S'pri.

"He's…better…All considered…He's with his…grandfather."

"Mu'kalien?"

"No…Reule Krios."

"Kolyat prepares to have his day, is he not," and Thane makes little hint that this news affects him.

"Yes…I must assume he's on course…I only send him messengers who're to remain with him, not invite curiosity—what with traveling back and forth to Nualavera."

"Prudent of you to do."

"I wanted to…give him…as much time as he could have…Keep him safe too."

Thane is quiet as he handles the ship.

Casnar turns back to the map, "…It was too close…Konis…He's everywhere."

"He is…or are his agents, Casnar."

"Mostly the latter. But he's there—whenever he snatches someone from me…Tetonbaum and Kasumi, Kolyat…Braith."

Thane falls quiet, tends to the smoothing-out of the ride through some unexpected turbulence, in the course of their flight…A softer voice, gentle, as though a father to a child, emerges from him, "…Why…did you let it go on so long…Without your reaching out to me—until now."

"We," he struggles, emotion in his voice—He pushes it down, "…We had a contained chaos. We had…opportunities…She had opportunities—twice—to escape, but…she found something. The first time was fumbled…by confusion. She was distrustful…" Casnar looks at Thane, black eyes on navigation screens, metrics. "I should've been there," he looks away, "…the first time. There was the second—Braith chose not to…She chose to return."

"Return. She chose to return to what."

"A child, one thing."

Thane glances at Casnar…The second glance, he holds Casnar in his dark stare, "…Braith remained behind—for a child…Was it her child?"

Casnar shakes his head. "It was someone else's…Story goes—The child drowned in the Kir, my ancestor's first site for Nualavera..."

Thane nods—familiar with that history, from Irikah Soterios's lips.

"Braith was with a pack of hunters, Behedins—They'd travel to Rakka. She may have lost it after that…She went to a mine to find the blood-mother. Shit went down."

Casnar's emeralds go to the desert, seeing it through camerafeeds up on the cockpit's displays.

Thane watches Casnar, "…What was the child's name?"

"Little Behe…Black as in Braith's hair color. A rape child by Konis Traus, of a Kerhasla drellahna, whose clan I…stole something from."

At the eastern entrance of Souir, Casnar, Thane, and Grunt disembark the Ni S'pri, and leave Garrus and Miranda to keep an eye on things. As they enter the entrance to the Sister caverns, Casnar looks to Thane, "…There are two entrances…The second mouth, is accessible through the canyon—west of here. This is where Tetonbaum had Kolyat brought…He saved Kolyat…Kolyat only lives because of Tetonbaum."

Thane peers into the tunnel. Grunt breathes in petrichor. "Smells empty."

Casnar leads as deep as the cavern of which a fire had been kept, by he and Tetonbaum—while helping Kolyat recover upon a stone flat nearby, feeding broth to him as he fought fever brought on by Konis's poison. The bed of dust, left by Tetonbaum's di'leans—Tika, Ruin, Gouta—remains undisturbed, feathers and fur still present.

While they explore the other length of caverns west, then return east, by way of the tunnels, Casnar returns to the convalescence cave and sits on the stone flat. He rubs the smooth surface of the wall with his hand.

They explore more of the Souir. A few hours later, content with what they have seen and learned about their base of operations, they head to the Ni S'pri.

"The Ni S'pri will be flown into the canyon, hidden at the west entrance," Thane says to them. "This site is suitable for our purposes. Miranda, Garrus? Grunt, show Casnar what to unload."