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Book I

The Colony at Brenn's Rock

1. The Itch

Annike Nimen wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her forearm - or rather she tried to, but the gauntlets of her armor suit only served to smear it around and add on a glob of grease, painting her forehead a splotched, milky grey. She rolled her eyes and straightened her back before hefting her shovel over her shoulder and trundling over to the makeshift marquee tent to escape the unrelenting summer heat. She was the only soldier left who hadn't suffered from a heat stroke, effectively leaving her to be the last one suited to dig this fucking pit to level the fucking land to place the new fucking cabin on.

"And I'll bet a goddamned month's worth of pay that they will make me set up the crates in the cabin, too. That is, if I don't catch heatstroke next," she growled before spilling her canteen of water onto herself. "Bad enough it's upwards of one hundred and four degrees, sundown isn't for another three hours, and to top it all off I'm talking to myself..." Annike chuckled humorlessly and picked up her second canteen and downed half of it in one gulp. "They'll be sorry when I'm lying in bed talking to the ghost of my mother and thinking I'm dating Ud-... Christ I don't even want to finish that thought. And I'm... still talking to myself."

Annike surveyed the partially leveled plot of land, the uneven mass of brown dirt glaring back up at her tauntingly and for a moment she thought to just leave it. The cabin was a luxury anyway, nothing more than storage and really, if the crates weren't weatherproof already then someone wasn't doing their job correctly. And on top of that, she was a soldier, not a... landscaper or whatever the hell! She was there to put bullets in the varren, those overgrown rats, or batarian pirates. But no, this freak heat wave just had to incapacitate all of the actual workers and most of her squad mates, leaving her to dig and level, dig and level.

Dig and level.

What a fine mess this was, she a soldier, the last soldier posted at this colony that currently wasn't lying on a cot, bathing in his own sweat. No more than three months ago she was working on the Citadel and one slip up puts her out in god-knows-where. She scowled and squeezed the handle of her shovel so hard her knuckles popped; the next time it wouldn't be a bullet in the leg. The next time he wouldn't limp away as she was detained by her fellow officers, her friends. She knew the truth.

She looked to the eastern horizon, the huge star Bristorn finally beginning its descent below the horizon, a welcome sight even if nightfall was still so far away. Overhead, a something streaked through the sky. Annike watched it with mild interest as it grew brighter and continued to fall, although she could have sworn she saw some sort of propulsion thrusters firing, and it might have even slowed down and changed its descent course. She pushed those thoughts aside, chalking it up to the heat again, and with a heavy sigh she hoisted up her shovel and went back over to the partially leveled plot and began working again.

1. Descent

Ilwen was asleep, but more importantly he was quiet, and that was fine with Rithe. The turian himself was beyond pissed off now that everything had sunk in, and he searched for a word strong enough to describe his absolute fury and could find none. Instead, he sat quiet and fumed over everything that had happened. He anxiously tapped his left foot with increasing force until he was nearly slamming it upon the floor and he had to tell himself to stop, and even then he started to incessantly drum his fingers on his knee. Borlaran drew closer and closer and Rithe watched as the hurricane he had seen earlier swarmed over the large ocean toward a small island like it was going to devour it whole, and the thought made Rithe shiver as he again hoped it wasn't an omen.

He kept running the past month over and over in his head - every conversation and every stray comment he could remember - looking for any sign that anything was amiss aboard the Halvmaen. Aside from general dissent among his fellow people toward the batarians (which, really, what else would you expect?), nothing seemed out of place. For some reason, thoughts of Xeriln kept coming back to him, and he felt they were important for some reason, but the revelation constantly eluded him. For a moment he felt the need to mourn, that the death of his superior was absolute, that it signaled that things were not okay: that there was neither a cavalry nor was this a dream. He felt himself growing angry again and closed his eyes, sighing heavily.

The turian looked toward his and the salarian's destination and could see tiny pinpricks of silver and brown in clusters. His mandibles flexed in anticipation and he mumbled to himself.

"What? Did you say something? Are we there yet? No... can't be," Ilwen said sleepily and then blinked a few times before looking out of the escape pod's window.

I almost break the floor with my foot and mumbling wakes you up? Rithe thought and chuckled. "We'll be there soon, I think. Hell I don't know, you're the techie, you tell me."

Ilwen frowned and fiddled with his omni-tool for a moment, "Okay... half an hour at most. I've already sent a message to them and we've permission to land but uh... well it's more like they won't shoot us out of the sky, really. They want to meet with us, make sure we won't cause trouble."

Rithe rolled his eyes, "All right, no problem. I can't say I wouldn't act the same way to be honest."

The salarian nodded and lay his head back down on one of his arms against the terminal's desk and closed his eyes, and before long he was napping again. Rithe returned to looking back down at Borlaran, the clusters of silver and brown growing larger, and he almost thought he could see tiny vehicles traveling newly made roads to and fro, throwing up dust and rocks. Near one of the colonies, he saw a large cloud of brown and red dust, and it took him a few moments before he realized it was a herd of what looked like varren, and then another moment before he saw them dissolve in a cloud of fire and smoke. He cringed and watched as two vehicles stopped nearby, surely to perform clean up and to gather up what was edible.

Rithe frowned and moved away from the window, bringing out a bottle of water and downing it in one large gulp. He surveyed the rations that was standard for every escape pod, and what would most likely be his only source of food for a while (he half hoped the humans had the prudence to supply foods for turians and quarians, but he wasn't holding his breath); luckily Ilwen had more liberty with his diet; and although it wasn't much, Rithe wasn't too worried. He could easily live six months off of this supply; a year if he spread it out even further. Surely that would be long enough to find a better source of supplies, befriend the humans, or get the hell off this rock.

The pod's thrusters fired, slowing the last half of the aliens' descent through the atmosphere, and a steady droning vibration picked up through the metal hull and consequently Rithe's head, which brought on another of his usual headaches. The turian groaned and leaned back, placing a hand on his forehead and closing his eyes.

When next Rithe awoke, it was to the hiss of the airlock as Ilwen activated it, and Rithe felt a spark of worry at his blackout, and a sharp flash of pain erupted through his forehead as he made the mistake of looking at Borlaran's setting sun. "How long was I out?" Rithe asked.

"Not long, we just arrived. I was going to let you sleep since it's been a long day."

Rithe nodded and hoped it really was just a nap.

"Speaking of which, nightfall appears to be just a few hours off. Should we just stay here and meet the humans tomorrow?"

Groaning again as another twinge of pain shot through his head as he stood up, Rithe replied, "No, we will go and meet them tonight; if we wait they will just grow suspicious. I would if I were them."

Ilwen nodded and began to make a comment at his superior's comparing himself to humans, but kept quiet lest he anger the turian. Instead he worked his omni-tool and signified toward the east, and took after Rithe as the turian let out another groan and began moving.

"Another headache?"

Rithe grunted his agreement and drew his backup pistol and handed it to Ilwen, then drew his own. "You know how to shoot, don't you? Not that we will have to, I hope, but just in case. Oh, and if anyone asks, I'm just a soldier. Don't mention anything about my biotics, understood? Not likely that it will matter, or that I'll have to use them, but just in case, always nice to have a trick or two." Rithe grinned and plugged in his biotic amp, rolling his shoulders as it snapped in.

Ilwen took the pistol and fumbled with it clumsily. "Yes, sir."

The turian's eyes narrowed into thin purple slits and he looked ahead into the distance, then back at the boy. "Well, let's get going then, eh?"

"Yes... sir," Ilwen replied and swallowed hard before straightening up and putting on a firm face. He stumbled forward.

Rithe drew his own pistol and held it against his chest as he walked aside the nervous salarian. The boy kept casting him sideways glances as they pressed on, and the feeling of uneasiness grew more and more inside him until he was literally shaking in his boots. The turian continued along steadily, his eyes moving barely, if at all, from the horizon and the path ahead. If what he had seen actually turned out to be what he thought he had seen, then he would have to be quick.

The path continued on in a fairly direct line, and the place in question was drawing ever nearer and again Rithe thought he saw movement ahead... yes, there was definitely someone sneaking about, a human female from the looks of it.

She needs to work better at not being seen if she wants to get the jump on us, Rithe thought and continued, turning to Ilwen and giving him another half smile, and a firm look of confidence.

Ilwen's already moist skin grew clammier with each step and he had to focus completely to keep from looking terrified. Of course he couldn't know what his superior knew, but if they both had to be armed to walk down a seemingly innocuous path, then something definitely was going to happen. His hands trembled gently and he held the pistol against his chest, causing his already awkward walk (for he had a bit of a limp for some reason he no longer remembered) to take on a shambling gait he hoped wasn't suspicious... although their walking armed and alone was suspicious enough, he figured. A soft whisper of assurance from Rithe helped him relax, but he still kept the pistol clenched tightly and at the ready.

Somewhere deep within, he knew something was soon about to happen, and he may not be a good shot, but he would fire until the thermal clip in his weapon grew white hot and molten and burned his hands. He kept on regardless; all he could do now was have faith that Rithe wouldn't let him die. Ilwen kept occupied by kicking a pebble a few feet in front of him each time he took a step.

In the next second, everything happened so fast, Rithe had to retell it multiple times before Ilwen could grasp it.

The first thing Ilwen acknowledged was the screeching cry, then the shots fired, and finally the demon, or banshee, or whatever it was silhouetted against the darkening horizon. The form was feminine, but Ilwen could only glance at her for an instant before he felt himself being pushed up and to the side, and a single bark from Rithe forced him to cover his head and stay down.

Her breath came out in ragged bursts and she held her rifle crookedly, but at that close range neither a misfire nor Rithe's barrier mattered. Point blank was point blank.

The turian biotic held himself steadily, eyeing her with both caution and concern as he aimed his pistol at her. A bluish shimmer of his biotics still enveloped him in ghostly flames; his eyes especially having a sinister glow.

He spoke calmly, almost compassionately toward her. "Now miss, I know you don't really want to harm us-"

"You're right, I want to kill you," she retorted through clenched teeth.

Rithe ignored her as he tried to remain as calm as possible, "We are guests here on your planet, the leaders of the colony Brenn's Rock know of us and we have made preparations to meet and seek shelter until such a time as we can be removed by our own superiors. We..." Rithe's voice trailed off as the female toppled over, letting out a straining groan.

1. Sun Stroke

Annike found it harder and harder not to think about whatever it was that she had seen streaking through the sky an hour ago. She would push the thought away but it would come back when she least expected it, and in full force as if someone was screaming it inside her head; usually causing her foot to miss the head of her spade and knock it askew, creating a crooked gash in the otherwise mostly level plane of dirt.

Cursing, she smoothed over the fifth crooked hole she had created and started again, digging and leveling, digging and leveling, and again the thought would drift off only to come back at her. God how could something be so persistent, so annoying? And damn the heat!

Giving in to her curiosity, she went over to her makeshift camp and picked up her rifle and looked through the scope. She scanned the area near the fallen object and didn't see much. Her hands were shaking - oh great, here comes the fucking heatstroke! She poured the last of her canteens on her head and looked again. Movement, sure, but she just figured it was some animals. Letting her curiosity get the better of her still - she found it increasingly harder to think of anything other than the heat and these animals - she continued to watch them, nothing more than two small shadowy figures, as they shambled nearer along the road.

As they drew closer, she narrowed her eyes and said to herself, "That's no animal; those things've got guns. But... just a pistol... no," she blinked lazily, "A fucking bomb!"

Smoke swirled over her eyes and for a second she felt as though she was falling, but she pressed her palm against her forehead until it passed. She'd be damned if she was going to let some piss ants come and ruin her hard work! She'd been digging all fucking day, hell, week - part of her thought it had been forever since she started digging and god damn this heat!

"I'm going crazy... I'll probably die, but I'm taking those bastard assassins with me," she snarled and hoisted her rifle over her shoulder and began in a clumsy run toward the figures, tripping over rocks and her own feet as visions of bigger and more elaborate weaponry and more figures began to cross her line of sight.

When she was finally upon them, she howled in fury and drew her weapon and fired at the smaller one, missing him as he flew off to the side. She snarled in fury and aimed at the larger one, putting his glowing and ugly fucking mug right in the sight of her rifle. His eyes seemed to glow with demonic fury, a bluish purple that - if she had been in her right mind - might have terrified her.

She heard him talking, and managed to reply on pure instinct as she had no idea what either he or she, herself, was saying. Suddenly she felt the world come up to meet her at an alarmingly quick pace and had a split second of recognition that she was on the ground and couldn't move, and then she blacked out.

Rithe looked at her and blinked deliberately to make sure he wasn't imagining things and when it became apparent that she really had just passed out, he holstered his pistol and helped Ilwen to his feet.

"Hm, sun stroke, I think," Rithe said casually and gathered her up into his arms. "Well, let's get her back to her camp."

"You're going to take her with us? She tried to kill us!"

"She never would have been able to; trust me, even if she had been able to shoot straight." Rithe smiled.

Ilwen shrugged and holstered the pistol and was busy with his omni-tool, scanning his aching left arm for fractures or other injuries - he had landed on it when Rithe had tossed him out of the way.

Up ahead was what appeared to be the girl's camp, a rather poorly erected tent under a more poorly erected marquee aside a large flat plot of dirt. Rithe wondered what it was for.

"Looks like she was leveling off the land for that storage cabin," Ilwen pointed to it, and then looked up at Rithe. "Weird that she was the only one."

Rithe nodded and went over to the girl's tent, setting her down inside. He proceeded to carefully remove her armor and laid it out on the ground nearby. Ilwen went to work tinkering with it as the cooling system must have obviously malfunctioned, he figured, causing the girl to overheat which brought on her manic attack.

"Her name's Annike Nimen, by the way," Ilwen said absently as he worked.

Rithe nodded again silently and found a nearby rag and, after drenching it in water from his canteen, wiped away the sweat and grease from Annike's forehead. He stood up and stretched, then left the tent and Ilwen to his work, and went over to the flat plane of dirt.

The turian walked about the edge of the squared off piece of land a few times, and then picked up Annike's shovel and began working. After thirty minutes of digging and leveling, he, too, found himself ready to fall over and succumb to the heat; and felt pity on the girl in the tent as well as admiration that she was able to hold out as long as she did and he had no doubt in his mind that she had leveled most, if not all, of it on her own.

After yet another hour of work, he had finished and had set up the cabin (it was equipped with a miniature mass effect generator, allowing it to levitate and be moved easily), and had begun moving the crates inside. When he had set down the third large crate, he wondered why he was even doing this work, but shrugged.

He sat down inside the storage cabin and leaned back against one of the crates. He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. It was easily twenty degrees cooler in the cabin - which still put it at a sweltering seventy degrees - than outside, but Rithe welcomed the relief and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

Annike sat forward and started in surprise when the damp rag fell onto her lap. She held her pounding head and waited for the urge to vomit pass before looking around. A salarian was staring at her and she looked at him dully.

"What? Never seen a half naked bitch before?" she asked and stretched.

"I... what? No, I mean," Ilwen fumbled with his hands and stammered.

Annike laughed and stood up, "You're uh, you're that kid I shot at, sorry about that. Believe me you looked a lot more threatening when I was dying than you do now. Assuming I'm not still dying, that is."

Ilwen shook his head, "Not dead. Close though, you were suffering under delusions brought on by a heatstroke. The cooling systems of your armor suit malfunctioned due to the extreme heat, ironic right? But I fixed it and calibrated it to withstand higher temperatures; so it won't be a problem anymore."

"Thanks kid, I'd pay you if I got paid," her lips turned upwards in disgust. "But in the meantime, don't suppose you could let me get dressed, huh? Go find your buddy. The tall guy. Turian, right?"

Ilwen nodded and darted out of the tent, then over to the newly erected supply shed. Inside he found Rithe still napping, and he shook the turian's shoulder gently.

Rithe woke up quickly and almost drew his pistol before he realized it was only Ilwen. The salarian boy jumped back a few feet, but when he saw his superior greet him with a quick nod, he helped him up.

"The soldier's awake, sir, she's getting dressed now."

The biotic nodded and went back over to the girl's tent, Ilwen following close behind. Annike was already in her full suit of armor, holstering her rifle as they approached, and she eyed the turian warily.

"You actually do still look as threatening as you did before," she began and laughed (Rithe looked at Ilwen confusedly, but the boy shrugged and shook his head), "Next time how about taking me out on a few dates before you undress me, 'kay?" She laughed again. "We human ladies like to be wined and dined."

Rithe furrowed his brow but made himself laugh anyway. Better to keep on her good side, he thought. "Sorry, I'll keep that in mind. You recovered rather quickly, about two hours? Impressive. But I'm glad to see you up and on your feet regardless."

"Would have sucked royally if the first contact you had with someone here was their dying, right?" She laughed again, "No, I've always been a rather stubborn bitch. I still feel pretty shitty, but heatstroke ain't gonna put me out, not while there's things to do, wrongs to right, people to kill; you know, so on so forth." Now that's something we can agree on, Rithe thought and nodded, grinning bitterly as he recalled every comrade's face that was stationed aboard the Halvmaen. He put forth his hand and the human shook it.

"So, you're not slavers - you don't look like you would be, anyway," She looked at Ilwen, then continued, "You said you were guests or some such? Pardon my memory, my brain was being baked at the time."

Rithe smiled cordially and nodded, "Yes, we seem to have, ah, had some trouble with our craft and had to make an emergency landing here. We've already contacted the leaders at Brenn's Rock to use their long distance communications device and they've agreed on the terms that we have a formal meeting with them first. Anything there seem out of the ordinary?"

"Honey, you're a turian, he's a salarian, you're on a planet of human colonies that sees, oh, little to zero of either ever, unless it's pirates, so yeah, it's a little strange."

Rithe chuckled, "I suppose you're right. But either way, nightfall is soon, so I think it's best we get to Brenn's Rock. I don't think they'll want to be kept waiting."

"They can shove it up their ass for all I care," Annike said scowling but started alongside Rithe and Ilwen, crossing her arms behind her head.