The journey to Valaks home was a quiet one, he guided us through the tangle of shanties and dilapidated prefabs that served as the town's residential district. One didn't have to strain their hearing to listen to the sounds of a town going about its evening activities. Families speaking among themselves, sharing meals. Music being played on personal electronics. Individuals calling to each other and conversing from balconies and across streets, as well as the unmistakable sound of copulation emanating through the thin prefabbed walls. Which those in neighboring abodes seemed quite content to pretend didn't exist.

Finally we reached the front door of what must have been his home. It was old, and noticeably rundown. But evidently well looked after. He fumbled in his front jacket pockets and pulled out a small key ring, fiddling with the lock for a few moments before finally getting the door open.

The light inside was warm and inviting. And almost as soon as the door was open I could smell something delicious. As we stepped inside. I heard the sound of small bare feet on a worn smooth floor. And turned to see a small Batarian girl step into the small foyer. No older than three or four if I had to hazard a guess.

She seemed to be momentarily bewildered as she saw two strangers in her home, but I saw her expression light up adorably as she laid eyes on Valak.

"Bava's home!"

She announced to the house at large, and almost immediately I heard a veritable stampede of little feet. As five other Batarian children soon crowded the foyer. Each seeming to make it their personal mission to suffocate their father with their collective embrace.

Valak for his part simply laughed, evidently this was a common homecoming ritual. And he took it in parts to give each of them a tight embrace and a kiss on the forehead. Before sending them on their way. It was in the midst of this that a final individual joined our small gathering.

Valak's wife waded through the sea of their progeny to embrace her husband. And share a quick peck on the lips.

"Welcome home my heart."

She said, smiling as the two held one another. She looked over her husband's shoulder to look at us quizzically.

"And you are?"

She asked, in heavily accented but passable english.

I was saved from speaking myself, as Valak turned to look at us, keeping an arm wrapped around his wifes midsection.

"They are our guests!"

He said, pointing at me.

"If it weren't for this one, I would not be here now!"

She blanched at that, fixing Valak with a concerned expression.

"Gods, what do you mean?! What happened!?"

Valak glanced down at the litter of small faces gazing up at them.

"Not in front of the little ones, love. "

She nodded and looked down at the children.

"You heard your father, go and set the table."

The little ones gave a collective groan of disappointment but nonetheless obeyed. Filing out of the foyer and further inside. With the children dismissed, she turned to look at Valak. Pinning him with a glare that could have scorched the paint from a tank chassis.

"Now what is this I hear about you almost dying tonight?"

Valak shook his head.

"It is not as bad as all that Rani', the young man simply helped resolve a tense situation."

I stepped forward.

"There was a fight ma'am."

I said.

"One of the tavern patrons took exception to me and my associate. Your husband tried to settle things peacefully but got a gun pulled on him for his trouble. I stepped in and stopped things from going any further."

The woman heaved a sigh and took a moment to give her husband a peck on the cheek.

"Well, you are safe. And that is what matters."

She turned to us now smiling. Extricating herself from Valak's embrace to approach us.

"I am Ranira Togulsa, and I welcome you both to my home."

She said smiling. I did my best to return the expression.

"A pleasure ma'am, I'm grateful for your hospitality."

"Rani to my friends. Which you most certainly are if what you have said is the truth."

She said as turned and made her way further inside the house. Beckoning for us to follow.

"Now come! It would not do for me to serve a guest a cold meal."

Dinner in a batarian household was…. A boisterous affair. The table was long and seated with benches. And I could see that we would be joined by more than just Valak, his wife and his children. I could see half a dozen other batarians of various ages. Four that must have been of an advanced age for how they stooped, and two other teenaged children that I assumed were some more of Valak's get. They all took their places at the table, leaving two near the head where Valak and Ranira sat, evidently meant for us.

We sat, I was unsure of the turian's feelings. But I was trying very hard to cover my awkwardness. My surroundings were disconcertingly domestic. I had come to this planet intent on committing a revenge killing. And yet I found myself sitting down to a meal with a man and his family. I might have laughed at the incongruence of it all. Had my inner thoughts been less dark.

I saw Ranira raise her hand for quiet. And immediately the noise died, as each person at the table each in their turn clasped their hands and bent their heads down. A prayer before a meal then? It was a curiously human action for aliens to take. In my experience, all but the most traditionalist members of most species were generally secular. I of course knew for a fact that at least some aspects of the supernatural were real, but I had never seen proof of anything that one might class as divine.

At a loss of what else to do, I simply put my hands together under the table and resolved to keep quiet.

"Oh Usuran, divine chieftain and lord of lords. We ask that you give your blessing unto the meal before us."

Ranira intoned. Her voice steady and measured as she spoke the prayer in her native tongue.

"We thank you for guiding our family to this day. And for the blessings of good food, a warm home. And new friendships."

She said, taking a moment to smile at me and the turian.

"We thank you for guiding our guests into Valak's path, so that you could work through them to protect him and bring him home to us, safe and whole."

Ranira raised her hands up finally and said.

"Otamsa."

The other batarians seated at the table followed suit. Briefly filling the air with hushed utterances of "Otamsa".

"Yes, enough of that now!"

One of the older ones said, a gentleman who I had seen eying his bowl even as Ranira had spoken.

"Let's eat!"

I saw no reason not to follow that particular piece of advice and lifted a mouthful of the steaming hot soup to face level, downing it and giving myself a moment to enjoy the exotic flavors. It was rich stuff, a mishmash of vegetables and meats in dark hearty broth. It was exactly the kind of food I would have expected the wife of a working man to cook. The kind of waistline thickening fare that stuck to the stomach like industrial adhesive. Some of my favorite kinds of food, in truth. Though I still only let myself indulge occasionally. Even with my exceptionally active lifestyle. It still wasn't something to be made a habit of.

"Oi, two eyes!"

I looked up to see one of the elderly members of the family staring at me expectantly.

"Are you just going to sit there eating? Or are you going to say something?"

I shook my head.

"My apologies."

I said putting the pot metal spoon down.

"The food was just so good it was all I could think about."

The old woman scoffed, smirking at me.

"Oh I'll just bet, tell me. How does a human boy end up on a planet like Jorinda? Don't see much of your kind in places like this."

I considered how to answer that. And decided to simply bite the bullet.

"Sedibus Balarek."

I said. And all at once the atmosphere of the room took on a distinctly more oppressive pall. The expression of every adult in the room had taken on a murderous edge at the mere mention of the name. And the children all suddenly looked downcast and frightened. The silence was deafening.

"...And what do you want with someone like that?"

Valak asked, a noticeable edge of suspicion in his voice.

I looked around the table. Every eye had turned to look at me, I sensed that I would have to be careful with how I responded. Once again I found myself settling on the truth.

"He wronged me."

I said simply, doing my best to not allow the worst of my temper to manifest as killing intent.

"I intend to make him pay for that."

Valak nodded. Understanding on his face.

"You are far from the only one he has hurt."

I regarded him quietly and set my spoon down.

"What do you know about him?"

I asked, trying very hard to keep the eagerness from my voice.

"That he is a villain, a brigand. A slaving piece of filth, a shame upon his ancestors and a black mark upon the names of all good and decent batarians."

Valak said, the venom in his voice palpable. One part of Valak's excoriation caught my interest, and I spoke up.

"You mentioned his being a slaver as a negative. I was led to believe that was seen as a perfectly acceptable occupation among batarians?"

One of the older batarians scoffed.

"Do not believe every piece of propaganda you are fed boy, perhaps such vile practices or the fashion back home now. But there are still those who keep the old ways."

I nodded, it made sense that within a race of trillions. It was a practical impossibility that every single one would hold the same beliefs. I turned back to Valak.

"I know well enough that Balareks a bastard. But what has he done exactly to give you such a low opinion of him?"

Ranira, who up to this point had been silent. Finally chose this moment to speak up.

"He destroyed our home is what he did."

She said, voice full of pain. Face glazed over with the remembrance of a better time.

"You were not here in the old days, friend. When Jorinda was growing and prosperous. When our people could still live without fear of being abused or killed by his thugs. When we lived without the feeling of their boots at our throats. I know you have seen how we live. Perhaps you think less of us for it. But how can we better our condition, when what little we make can barely feed us and whatever else we have is taken as protection money? How can we be hopeful that things will ever be better, when we cannot even educate our children, and are so far from the concerns of the powerful that it will be a miracle if they can look down from their gilded thrones long enough to notice our suffering? You want to know why we hate him so, friend? Because he stole everything from us, our home, our livelihoods, our hope. Because there is no hope that we will ever be free of him. And he makes sure that we always know it."

I sat in silence, digesting her words solemnly. Off to my side I could see that even the turian had been affected by what she'd said. Her story wasn't unique. Warlords and pirate bands across the Terminus made small petty fiefdoms wherever they could. Exploiting them for their own enrichment and leaving the less fortunate to be trampled underfoot and languish in poverty.

It disgusted and galled me. That even in this supposedly advanced and enlightened age. There were still people. Good, honest and caring people. Who had enough kindness to open their homes and their hearts to one not even of their species. And even give food from their own table. Despite having so little to give. Could live as the people seated around me were living.

A concerted effort by the Citadel could have healed the ills of these people. The Hierarchy's fleet would have easily crushed almost anything that could be arrayed against them. It would have been easy for them, pitifully so. And yet they didn't. Not because they couldn't, But because they did not care to. Entire generations of good people were living and dying in poverty, suffering and squalor. For no good reason at all.

In the face of all that I had been told, for a brief moment. My own woes suddenly felt very small indeed.

"I-I don't understand."

I said.

"Surely there are more of you than them? There must be tens of thousands of people living here. Definitely more than the 500 or so crew he's got. Maybe you'd take some losses, but wouldn't it be worth it to be out from under his boot?"

Valak shook his head, eyes downcast and expression resigned. I had the feeling that he had heard these things before, had thought them himself even.

"You speak with the benefit of being strong, friend. And of having nothing to lose. Maybe we could beat him, drive him off. But what if we couldn't? It would be a death sentence for us and for those we love. And even if we drove him away, some other tyrant would eventually take his place."

Valak seemed a world apart from the man I had met a scant few hours before. It was shocking to see someone so bright, so full of life and light. Brought so utterly low.

"My days of fighting are behind me. And I have far too much to risk to think of such things."

He said. I sat up, eyes narrowed and expression determined.

"Then it's a good thing I don't."

I said.

"Tell me where he is. And I'll do the rest, maybe it won't solve all your problems. Hell, it might not even solve most of them. But it'll be something wont it?"

Valak shook his head.

"One man can't possibly-."

"I'm not most men, Valak."

I said, letting a small portion of my power rise to the surface. A minute amount of supernatural strength to add gravitas to my words. It wouldn't manifest as anything visible. But every person in the room would feel it. I could see the effect it had on them. The younger children looked at me wide-eyed. And the adults all sat a little straighter.

"Whatever tricks he has, whatever traps he's set. No matter who or what he sends. I won't stop until he's gotten exactly what he deserves."

I said the words plainly, and with the utmost conviction. Because I meant them, because I did not intend for them to be anything but the truth. Valak stared at me, his expression beyond my ability to read. And then spoke. His voice halting but with a new determination.

"There's an old titanium mine, about ten miles north outside of town. He's made it into a personal fortress. Defenses all around, and a lot of armed thugs. I haven't seen much of it, or what's inside, but I've seen enough. You'd need at least a platoon of trained fighters to take it. Or one very good team."

I nodded. It was barely anything. Almost nothing in fact. But it was enough.

Avreus watched as the human stood up from the table. Expression set in determined lines. A picture of focus and will. He inclined his head toward their hostess. Thanking her for the meal before quitting the room.

Despite himself, Avreus had been affected by what he had heard. Staring mutely over a bowl of food he couldn't actually eat, as the family of batarians poured their hearts out to the human assassin. Normally it would have been easy to ignore, but-.

Well, it was one thing to live close to suffering. And quite another to hear it speak, to sit down to a meal with it. To see the despair and resignation in the eyes of someone he had broken bread with. Had been invited into the home of. He saw those expressions everywhere in the terminus systems, hopelessness clung to them like an ever present shadow. But he had done everything in his power to ignore them. To simply keep his head down and push past the disgust he felt with himself everytime he saw another glassy-eyed hollowed out face. Not even living, but just surviving. And did nothing.

But what could He do? This was how things were, how they had always been. Exactly how those in power liked it. For quite literally thousands of years. There was no point in wasting energy on caring. Or on trying to play the hero.

In the Terminus, you either killed your heart, or your heart killed you.

A part of Avreus had almost pitied Balarek, had felt some amount of sympathy for the batarian warlord. To know that a man like Zero had marked him for death. He felt it much less strongly now. Confronted by a table of people that had suffered because of him. Now he wished only that Zero would make sure to really make the sonofabitch squeal.

He would have stared off into nothing, letting his mind wander down dark paths. For several moments more, if he hadn't felt a tug at his sleeve. He felt a jolt of surprise and looked down to see a small batarian boy looking up at him.

"Are you gonna eat that?"

Avreus looked down to the uneaten and now lukewarm bowl of delicious looking but tragically inedible soup. And slid it in the child's direction.

"Help yourself kid."

The child quickly fell on the bowl smiling between mouthfuls as he vacuumed the soup down with sounds of appreciation. From across the table, the lady of the house fixed her progeny with a reproachful stare.

"Adehr! Don't be rude!"

The kid stopped eating and looked up sheepishly at his mother, and Avreus, despite himself. Felt obliged to help the kid out.

"It's cool, really."

He said, as the woman's gaze turned to him.

"He's a growing kid right? And I couldn't eat it anyway so there's no sense in letting it go to waste."

That seemed to have mollified her. But she still looked at Avreus for a moment before seeming to be startled by something.

"Gods I've been a terrible host!"

She said, looking at Avreus apologetically. Much to his confusion.

"Well it's just that we don't often have Turian company, you see."

She said, before rising from the table abruptly.

"I'll just whip something up for you then, no harm done."

Avreus, startled. Put his hands up placatingly.

"No, no, that's really not necessary! Honestly I've taken up enough space as it is, I'll just go-."

Ranira cut him off, clearly in no mood to be anything but the very model of accommodating.

"You'll do no such thing."

She said,

"I've never let a guest leave my home hungry before. I don't intend to start now."

Avreus would have made another attempt to ward off Ranira's good natured attempts to right this perceived wrong. But he found himself catching the eye of her husband. Valak looked at him with a good natured and amused expression. Saying nothing but shaking his head in a message that couldn't have been clearer.

"You're not winning this one son."

Seeing himself outmatched, Avreus relented and simply stayed silent. As Ranira exited the room to what was evidently the house's small kitchenette. Her behavior had struck a familiar chord, though it took Avreus a few moments before he realized in precisely what way.

His mother had been the exact same way.

That struck a pang with him, and he suddenly felt himself becoming hideously homesick. How long had it been since he had spoken to anyone in his family? To Mom, Dad? To either of his siblings? A year and a half? Two?

Spirits….

Of course he hadn't let there be a chance for goodbyes. Avreus had always found it somewhat funny, when he had first been enlisted. It had been endless hours of paperwork and medical checks, form signing and bureaucratic tedium. The entire process seemed intentionally designed to take up as much time as possible.

When he had finally given them an adequate reason to be rid of him however, it had taken less than two hours for his effects to be gathered, for the appropriate forms to be signed. And for him to be on a transport back home.

It had been an uncomfortable trip. The ship had been mostly empty, enough that he could easily find a seat to himself. Sit, and stew about what was waiting for him when he got back. A whole lot of disappointment and recrimination, that was what.

Mom would be disappointed of course. But would put on a happy face for his sake. Shani and Sava would give him the reaming of the century and Dad….

No, he wouldn't go home, he couldn't.

He'd gotten off one or two stops early and used his few remaining credits to book himself passage as far from Turian space as his money would take him. And had done his best not to think about home since. Throwing himself into the work of building himself a worthwhile life in a region of the galaxy that seemed inherently inimical to the happiness of its inhabitants. He had learned a lot of hard, uncomfortable lessons in those days. Some of them very nearly at the cost of his life. Becoming ever more cynical and jaded as time had gone on.

In the Terminus, the only thing you could trust. Was that no one could be trusted.

But every once in a while, you were reminded that some examples of basic decency trickled through. Like flowers pushing through cracks in duracrete. The genuinely good, honest people. Eking out a tenuous existence at the fringes of attention of the powerful. Beneath the notice of those who made their livings by abusing them.

A part of him used to be angry when he thought about such things. But there was only so much you could do and see done before you grew numb to it.

A painfully familiar scent pulled him from his introspection and solidly back into the present. As a plate was placed before him. And on it, a meal he hadn't seen in almost three years now. Dahsara cutlets, smothered in a generous helping of spicy creamy sauce. The tantalizing delicious aroma bringing him for just a few moments back to simpler, better days. When he was younger and more hopeful and less jaded. And the galaxy had seemed full of hope and possibility. Before hideous reality had asserted itself.

He inhaled a deep generous draught of the meal's scent and very nearly sobbed. Catching himself only just in time as he recalled his circumstances and his present company. Even so his voice shook shamefully as he thanked the batarian matriarch that had gone to the trouble of preparing the meal for him.

"I-, Th-thank you."

Ranira, who at that moment bore more resemblance to an angel than a mortal woman to Avreus. Simply smiled down at him.

"Oh, it was nothing."

She said, indulgently making no comment about the noticeable shakiness of his voice.

Wowee Zowee three updates in the same year? Who am I and what have I done with the real Dark?

Yeah, you'd be amazed what you can manage when you actually plan shit ahead a little bit. I'm actually happy to have finally gotten to this part. Mostly because I finally wanted to give some attention to a part of M.E that I think gets neglected by most fanfiction authors.

The Batarians.

In my experience, "super evil mustache twirling slaver." Seems to be the only Batarian character most authors know how to write. Not that I can really blame them since bioware seems to have the same problem. But that never really sat right with me. Where's the nuance? What is the average joe non-slaver, non-pirate batarian like? Surely they can't all be uniformly evil?

I'm going to be building on this as the story progresses. I want to paint a more complete picture of batarians as a culture and a people. Though I hasten to warn that the lion's share of it is stuff that I've headcanoned (read: pulled out of my ass.) I'm going to try and give this treatment to other neglected races as well. So If you're frustrated by the underutilization of races like the Vorcha then there's your incentive to keep reading this crap.

Next chapter's going to be Jane focused. I considered having that section be the end of this chapter. But decided against it to forestall complaints by people with short attention spans about having to switch between more than one POV. As a consequence It's probably going to also be shorter.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and thank you to those of you who reviewed. Yes, even the people who shittalk me. I appreciate the engagement, and the bump up I get in search results when people search by review. Even If I still remain buried under a pile of older better stories. Not to worry though, I'll be fixing that.

-The Guarding Dark

P.S

Did you know? Everytime someone complains about punctuation or spelling in the older chapters, Dark adds a week onto the wait time for the next one. It's true!