"Wait. Can we hold on a minute and acknowledge the fact that I'm currently second in line to becoming the human Pathfinder?"

"Yeah, but that's only if I die, so..."

"I mean, I don't want you to, but as far as consolation prizes go..."

"Scott! I'm surrounded by criminals, getting back massaged by rifles and all you can care about is that Dad already handpicked the line of succession without consulting anyone?" Sara heaved an exasperated sigh. "A guy just poisoned himself!"

"After you gave him the poison," Peebee helpfully added.

"Unwittingly!"

"Yeah," Scott chuckled. "I've noticed that a lot about you."

"It was a huge misunderstanding," Sara insisted with a groan.

Her brother nodded, but appeared too thoughtful to be paying attention. "Sure, sure. I'm still stuck on Pathfinder Ryder. Has a nice ring to it."

"I know," Sara deadpanned. "It's why I call myself Pathfinder Ryder."

Scott flashed her his dimples. "Yeah but imagine Pathfinder Ryder, only better. You know. Me."

"You're so annoying!"

"Should I get some food?" Peebee asked. She gave her arms a long stretch and yawned. "I don't really want to miss any of this, but I feel like it warrants snacks."

"Honestly, I'm more interested in what happened with you and Avitus on Elaaden," Sara said with a raised brow.

Peebee snorted. "Ehh, a lot of sand, mostly. Although, Avitus did almost leave Liam there. But I think he has a soft spot for soulmates and Kosta really stressed how close the two of you were."

Even now, when Sara thought she was over it, the revulsion was instinctive. She shuddered. "Ugh. Never mind. I'd rather talk about corpses on Kadara."

And when she said corpses on Kadara, it wasn't hyperbole. With Sara's head still spinning over Vehn Terev's suicide, she tried to cut through a gathering crowd in the market and nearly tripped over a body. It earned her a rifle butt to the gut and blue blood on her boots.

"Watch it, Initiative."

"What the-?"

"Piss off!"

The body was angaran, male and fresh. A quick analysis from SAM suggested that the victim had plummeted a couple stories- likely from the overhanging balcony of scaffolding- based on the droplet splatter. Before she could inquire about the possibility of it being an accident (on Kadara,) SAM noted lacerations on the angaran's face and a slit throat.

Okay, fine. Sara shook her head and veered wide around the crowd spilling out of Kralla's as word spread of another murder, and trudged toward the lift to the slums. Cora was pinging on her comm and Sara caved to the instant gratification of redirecting the lieutenant to voicemail. Vetra and Drack brought the transponder back to the ship, it would take time to triangulate the frequency. Whatever Cora wanted, Sara was confident it could wait until after a certain asshole clued her in to what the hell happened in Vehn Terev's cell.

Tartarus was a dive. Red lights strobed across cages that held sweaty turians and asari who danced wildly regardless of the beat of the music that vibrated loudly in Sara's ears. It wasn't just dance cages; the bar itself also cordoned off the bartender behind a row of steel bars. He assured Sara that it was more for her protection than his and she was polite enough to not openly express her disbelief at that statement. Still, he directed her to a private room a floor up that Reyes had apparently rented out.

SAM only detected a single heat signature within the room, so if it was a trap, it was a poor one. The door opened to a dim, windowless room. A sizable table surrounded by chairs was crammed tightly into a corner and Reyes Vidal lounged at the head of it.

"Ryder." He gifted her with that award winning grin. "How'd you make out?"

"What the hell, Reyes?" Sara demanded as the door closed behind her. "Poison? Really?"

His grin soured and he coughed back whatever witty repartee he had anticipated. "That? Regrettable," Reyes admitted. "I gave you an acid, meant to accelerate corrosion on the bars so he could escape." He shrugged and then drummed his fingers on the tabletop, as if he was thinking aloud. "I suppose... if you ingested it, it would do the same to your insides, but I imagine it would be painful and not at all quick."

That took the wind from her sails and Sara stumbled over to the nearest chair. Her legs suddenly felt too weak to hold the rest of her up with all of her adrenaline instantly sapped. "Jesus," she breathed as she dropped into the seat.

"Hope you got what you needed from him before he, well-" There was a nervous laugh, "you know."

"Yeah, sure." Sara waved a hand. "It should be enough."

"Honestly, I didn't think Sloane could be reasoned with," he commented. "I'm impressed."

The derisive snort escaped before she could stop it. "I'm just that good."

"Apparently."

Reyes was staring. It was subtle and she would have overlooked his heavy lidded gaze if SAM hadn't taken an interest. It was weird to admit that she'd grown accustomed to being measured and judged, lately. Sara Ryder was cuter than Alec Ryder, at least, although Reyes Vidal's opinion couldn't possibly be more than another drop in the bucket of intergalactic, politicking nonsense. Still, her immediate need to perform for and to seek out his approval was vexing.

"Are you here about the murders?" he asked finally.

"Maybe I came to collect on that drink you owe?" she replied. "I thought bodies piling up outside of Kralla's was just part of Kadara's charm?"

Reyes chuckled and he relaxed back into his seat. "Sometimes. But that's the fourth one this week. All in plain sight, all in broad daylight. It's more than a bar scuffle. Whoever did this wanted the bodies to be found."

"So someone's trying to make a statement. Do you think it's the Collective? I heard they're unhappy with the way the Outcasts run things." It was just common sense; he didn't need her for that. Sara cocked her head. "Or are you just afraid to be alone at night now that the streets are too dangerous?"

"I promise, you will be the first one I call if that day ever comes," he declared, a flash of mirth in his eyes before returning to business, again. "The Collective is run by the Charlatan. They're no friends of Sloane's, but I don't buy it. The Charlatan is discreet, careful. No, if I was a betting man-"

"You are a betting man."

"I am!" Reyes agreed with a nod. "And less than a third of the victims were Outcasts. I'd say it was the Roekaar."

Sara grimaced. "There's Roekaar on Kadara?" She didn't know why that came as a surprise.

"Kadara was angaran built, and before Sloane, it was angaran run," he explained. "It was overrun by kett when the exiles arrived and Sloane was responsible for emancipating it the only way she knows how."

"With a lot of guns?" Sara guessed.

"By ambush. It may have worked once, but the kett know her tactics, now. I promise you, the next time, she won't be so lucky."

That was two promises now, in just one sitting. Sara decided to keep that thought to herself. "I can see how an angaran port run by aliens would be a prime target for the Roekaar," she said, instead. "But the body I saw was angaran. How does that fit into your theory?"

"True." He smirked. Whether it was because he approved of her line of thinking or because he already had the answer, she couldn't say. "I did some digging. All the murdered angara have been public Milky Way sympathizers."

"So all the victims are either from the Milky Way-"

"Or supported us. It's the only pattern I could find."

"Okay, so it's Roekaar." She shrugged one shoulder. "Problem solved. What now?"

Reyes shook his head, a line of frustration momentarily marring his brow. "But I don't have proof, and the Resistance doesn't want to antagonize the Roekaar without reason."

"Guessing that's where I come in."

That characteristic grin returned, but he sounded refreshingly earnest as he jumped straight to the point. "I need that fancy AI of yours to scan for evidence that could implicate the Roekaar," he admitted. "This is your opportunity to win some friends here."

"We're not friends?" She'd meant it as a joke, but the way Reyes paused after she said it had Sara wondering if she'd misread the entire situation.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Reyes exhaled, his eyes suddenly preoccupied with his knuckles. "But... you're not really liked here in Kadara Port."

"Ouch."

He looked up at her again, the color of his eyes dark and murky in the dim lighting. "What I'm saying is, you need a friend," Reyes told her. "Someone on the inside to help you out. I can be that guy. You need intel on exiles, Sloane, whatever- come to me."

"All that?" It was her turn to smirk. "I must be pretty integral to this plan."

He was quick to correct her with a laugh. "SAM is integral. You're a bonus."

Huh. Of all the places in this new galaxy for her to receive that degree of honesty, Sara never would have anticipated it from a greasy former pilot who grinned too much, revealed so little, and still owed her a drink despite her attempts to collect on that debt. Strange world.

Sara shook herself from her reverie and turned back to the situation at hand. "Hey, I haven't agreed to help you yet."

"I feel pretty good about my chances." Speaking of smiling too much, there was that smug little smirk, again. Reyes lifted the wrist that held his omni tool. "One of the crime scenes isn't far. Give me a call when you get there."

And that's how she got Reyes Vidal's comm frequency. A shame the trade off was examining blood splatters and corpses. It was sort of like archeology, maybe? Only the bodies were fresher, with leaking, fleshy bits still attached and there were people around who still knew their names or the way they had laughed.

So maybe not at all like a dig site.

Sara would worry about it when she got there. For now, she had to return to the Tempest, check in and convince someone to tag along on her murder mystery in a lawless land of outlaws because one of the lawless asked her so nicely. There was benefit in it, whether it was forging new alliances or rooting out the Roekaar. This is what Sara told herself, anyway. That she was looking out for the greater good and not at all because she was thinking with her pants- even SAM helpfully informed her that she had no brain to speak of outside of the one in her skull currently functioning at an acceptable capacity.

"Never have truer words been spoken, SAM," Sara murmured as she breezed past the furiously gyrating cage dancers on her way out of Tartarus. She could just imagine the look on Cora's face.