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Book I

The Colony at Brenn's Rock

1. The Double-cross

"So, most, if not all, of the soldiers and workers have heatstroke, eh? That explains a lot. I trust they won't all..."

"Try to kill you like I did? No, I was already mad at the world when you and your buddy managed to waddle along carrying pistols that looked like bombs. The rest of them are lying in cots puking and sweating."

Night had fallen nearly thirty minutes ago and already the temperature had plummeted until each of three companions could see his breath before his face. Ahead, Brenn's Rock sat squat and fat on the horizon, lighting up the night sky. Rithe could see the colonists moving to and fro between the buildings as he searched for the headquarters. He found it after a moment, the biggest and brightest of the square flat buildings, and he thought how typical it was; but nonetheless he walked along faster, Ilwen and Annike following closely.

"So, I take it Brenn is either the current leader, or he founded this colony, right?"

"Actually, I think Brenn is the name of the founder's son. Kid died or some such. Nah, the leader's name is Nick, which is appropriate as it rhymes with weasely little dick."

Rithe chuckled. "You speak harshly about him. Funny, but harshly."

Annike snorted, "I work for the Alliance," she pulled out her dog tags and held them up, then tucked them back into the neck of her suit. "Not for him."

Rithe furrowed his brow, "Then why are you here?"

The soldier huffed, "Get to know me better and I might tell you."

"All right, all right." Rithe said. "I take it you don't like him much."

"Nope," was her only reply.

The three on along in mostly silence, Ilwen naturally being the one to make random comments about the colony as it drew closer.

* * *

When the three reached the gates an hour and a half later, two women who looked more like farmers than soldiers met them, each holding a rifle awkwardly. Rithe cast a glance at Annike who looked just as puzzled and shrugged.

"Right, you, turian?" One of the women said, casting a glance at the other to make sure she had said it correctly, "You and the other alien are supposed to meet with Master Rowels, and we are to relieve you of your weapons."

Rithe's eyes narrowed and he began to make a comment but stopped himself and drew his pistol and retrieved Ilwen's and tossed them at the girls' feet. They jumped back and then the one who had spoken nodded and they were allowed passage.

"I told you all the soldiers were currently in bed talking to their dead great aunts. Not sure why you had to surrender your weapons though, but I'm sure it's nothing."

Rithe was glad he left his amp plugged in and nodded.

"Don't worry, if you get scared I'll hold your hand, or let you touch my rifle, 'kay?"

They continued on and Rithe noticed many of the children stared at them in wonder as if they had never seen an alien before. And, the more he thought about it, the more he figured that might have actually been correct. The adults paid no attention. He still felt strange, as if he were being examined, but he still made sure to toss a friendly smile at them now and then. Ilwen almost looked as though he wanted to run off and play with some of the kids, and for a second Rithe wondered how old the salarian was, but figured every one of them must retain some sense of childhood due to their rapid aging and short lives.

As they approached the large cabin - and Rithe felt satisfaction that he was indeed correct in assuming which cabin belonged to the leader - they were met with the object of Annike's disgust.

Nick Rowels stood at an unintimidating five-foot-two and was perched upon a porch that hovered over the trio. He wore a tired, gray suit that had one time been darker, perhaps even black, but countless years under the planet's intense sun had faded the fabric, but still managed to make the man look charming. He leaned against the railing, his right arm stretched out in welcome and his smile was dazzling; and Rithe wondered why Annike had spoken about him in such a way.

When he spoke it was with a light accent that Rithe couldn't pinpoint (although to his credit, he didn't really know many human accents), and even his voice was charming. "Mistah Kanithan, young mistah Merszin, ah, and you brought us back our invaluable," he enunciated each syllable so comically in-value-able, that Rithe couldn't stop from chuckling, "miss Nimen; welcome to Brenn's Rock, I am Nick Rowels. Please, come inside my comfortable cabin."

Rithe tipped his head in greeting; Ilwen waved; and Annike only snorted loudly as they all squeezed into the master's cabin, the two aliens and soldier staying near the door. The turian was somewhat taken aback at the human's knowledge of his and Ilwen's surnames, but figured Ilwen had included it in his message. For a moment he wondered what else the human knew but pushed the thought aside.

"What brings you to our humble colony, gentlemen?" Rowels began as he dropped into a large armchair on the opposite side of the room. "Holiday?" ('Olliday?) Rowels laughed loudly and gazed at them with sharp eyes. "Forgive the colonists' gaze of wonder, it is not often that we have aliens - ah, I mean a turian and a salarian in our midst."

"It's quite all right; I imagine we must look rather strange to you humans, especially those who have never seen beings such as us. Regardless," Rithe shook his head, "Nothing so simple as holiday, Master Nick. You see, my companion and I seemed to have run into some trouble with our ship and had to make an emergency landing. I'm afraid our ship... is currently of no use to us, and we have naught but an escape pod, and as I'm sure I don't have to explain, an escape pod won't get us very far."

"Ah, I see, I see, so you wish to contact your fellows and retrieve yourselves, and your ship. Trouble indeed, though fortunate for us to have such decorated soldiers in our midst, what an honor!" Rowels smiled again. "You see, at first, Brenn's Rock was established to further the reach of humanity in this vast and wondrous universe of ours, but it turns out that there are those who do not look kindly at us and well, would see us dead rather than try any hand at peace; and as such, any and every attempt at diplomacy has been met with..." Rowels continued his speech, indulging himself.

Annike scowled and elbowed Rithe gently as Rowels continued talking, and she began to whisper, but Rithe cut her off, keeping one eye on Rowels who, by now, was gushing with adoration and pride over his colony, paying them no attention.

"Yes, I see them too, outside, near the windows," Rithe whispered. "Looks like your comrades made quick recoveries, too. Let's see what happens, shall we?"

The soldier began to protest but Rithe hushed her with a firm glance, and then placed his hand on Ilwen's shoulder.

"...So you see, your landing is quite fruitful for us all, as it will definitely blaze a trail for peace between us, and the powers that be," Rowels gazed upwards at the ceiling, as if looking into the stars beyond.

Rithe was silent for a moment as he pretended to think deep about the master's speech. "I hate to disappoint you, but the only ones in this system aside from yourselves, are batarians and krogan, neither of which have any interest in alliances with humanity. They're slavers, Rowels, slavers and mercenaries; peace with them is nothing more than a hallucination no more messed up than the dreams your soldiers, currently hidden just outside, were having no more than a day ago as they were dying from heat stroke... but you knew that already, didn't you?" The turian took satisfaction in Rowels' sudden wavering gaze, and then continued, "I would request the use of your communications, but I assume that won't be happening, will it?"

Rowels' lip curled upwards in anger, but he quickly regained his charming smile, "Perhaps under ordinary circumstances you would be correct, that peace is impossible, but when the leader of the Gray Equinox mercenaries finds out that I have you, I'm sure he will pay a fine, fine sum for your head. You have the choice of whether or not it remains on your shoulders."

"You're... you're taking us prisoner!" Ilwen cried out and clenched his fists. "To sell us!"

Rowels gazed at the boy, "Actually, you will remain here, my young genius. I will need a master technician to make sure the new equipment I buy for us with mistah Kanithan's bounty will be in top working order, yes?"

Bounty... Rithe thought. Why do I have a bounty on my head?

"I'll... tell the colonists!"

The master shrugged and smiled, "Go ahead, the mad ravings of a strange alien will hold no ground against my own familiar and friendly face. The colonists here will look upon me as a god, and once I make us rich and I gain the influence and protection of the Gray Equinox, well, let's just say my word will be rather hard to resist."

"In other words, you'll sell or kill those who speak out against you," Rithe said solemnly. "You are a weasely little dick."

The color drained from Ilwen's face and he gazed up at Rithe pitifully.

Rithe looked back down at the salarian and patted his shoulder. "Evil does not always have an ugly face. Even the deepest wells of darkness in one's heart can be masked by nothing simpler than a charming smile."

Rowels waved his hand dismissively, "Yes, yes, morals, good-and-bad guys, and happy endings; nothing more than silly stories and lies for children."

From somewhere behind, Rithe heard the clinks and shicks of a rifle being deployed, and without looking knew it to be Annike. He felt the barrel of her rifle pressed against the back of his head.

"Perfect, my dear. Do me a favor and put our prize away for safekeeping, yes?" Rowels said and grinned at the girl.

She nodded without speaking and pushed the muzzle of her gun against Rithe's head, spurring him onward. The turian did so without protest, and looked at Ilwen reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Ilwen, just do as they say for now," he said quickly and quietly as he passed the boy.

Ilwen frowned grimly and allowed himself to be led away.

As Annike led Rithe, she shooed away her comrades. "You boys look like you're ready to piss yourselves, get back in bed until you're at one-hundred percent, got it?"

They each did so without comment, and Annike continued leading the turian prisoner to a chain of empty cabins that doubled as the colony's holding cells.

Annike narrowed her eyes and looked at Rithe's neck carefully seeing various scars and knots left behind from surgeries. At the base of his neck, just below the collar of his armor suit, was a circular port, no larger than an inch and a half in diameter. "Oh, you're a biotic, are you?" She said quietly as they walked along.

"Yes. So you see, even without my pistol I'm far from helpless, I hope your little cage is sturdier than the rest of this camp, but if what I've seen is any indication, I won't hold my breath. Say your prayers tonight, girl."

"Oh cut the dramatics, Rithe. Where's your amp?"

Rithe smiled and Annike lowered her rifle, throwing it over her shoulder. They continued on, however, to the holding cells.

"It's in a pocket. I didn't want anyone to see it. For all Rowels knows, I'm simply a soldier."

"I know this'll sound horrible, but this is actually a good thing for me, I'm glad my hunch was correct. I knew he had been up to some shady business, but now once I find proof and report this to the Alliance, I'll be off this hellhole and he'll be rotting in prison. You're welcome to come with me if we make it out alive," Annike said.

"That is horrible; you do know that, right?"

Annike smirked and shrugged. "Rowels is the only crook here; the civilians are ignorant to his plans. He will keep it that way. Everyone here came to Brenn's Rock to do their part in forging peace between humanity and you guys: turians, salarians, what have you. They won't want to ally with mercenaries. They want peace, not fear. The soldiers here are good boys too, with families; they're just in need of money. Rowels probably let slip the word 'credits' a few too many times, so they're ready to follow him to hell and back." As they neared the prison cabin, Annike raised her rifle again. "Stay put, for tonight. I'll find the boy and explain everything to him, too."

"No, don't. He's better off thinking we're screwed for now; it's best if only you and I know. I'll keep quiet tonight, and if you aren't here tomorrow at noon, or if Rowels gets impatient, I'll have no choice but to..." Rithe plugged in his amp.

"Boom?"

Rithe nodded, his violet eyes glowing softly. "I have to get out of here. No more playing around with children like Rowels who think they can barter my life, or my comrades'. If I have to turn him inside out, so be it."

"Something big happened with you and Ilwen, didn't it?"

The turian grinned and echoed Annike's own remark, "Get to know me better, and maybe I'll tell you."

"I'll hold you to that. But for now, sorry to have to put you in jail, but damn if it doesn't bring back memories," Annike said as she stood in the doorway of the prison cabin.

Rithe walked over to a nearby bench and sat down obediently. "Go. Do what you need to do, just remember, noon."

The soldier nodded and shut the door. It slid closed quickly with a loud hiss. "Don't die, Rithe."

1. Night at the Colony

Ilwen allowed himself to be led away quietly and made no protest when they locked him into the eerie, quiet hangar which housed several decrepit Mako's. He was too depressed to put up a fight, and walked around the hangar absently, getting used to what would no doubt be where he would live for the next twenty years or so, or until he was of no further use to anyone. He looked at each of the various vehicles, covered with day old varren entrails, dust, and mud. He cringed.

During the walk over here, one of the soldiers had drunkenly read off a list of tasks for Ilwen to complete, and after walking around the hangar a couple of times, Ilwen set out to complete them. It was best to keep busy until he was too tired to be scared. He worked constantly with his omni-tool, fixing various errors in the colony's water storage and pumping system, heating, and repairing the Mako's. He saved cleaning them for last, and scraped off the dried guts and gore with something that looked like a rake and shoveled them into the corner. He looked down at the foul smelling pile and dry heaved a few times before vomiting violently. Wiping his face - and it did help calm his upset stomach, at least - Ilwen walked back over and looked at the cleaner Mako's.

That having taken all of two hours, the salarian lay down on the makeshift cot that one of the soldiers had set up near the door. He continued looking through his omni-tool for anything that would help if by some great miracle, they were rescued. Aside from a few offensive tech abilities, he had nothing, and he sighed. He was never good at fighting but as a last resort it was definitely better than nothing. Hacking the armor suits of the soldiers was a better idea, and, Ilwen admitted to himself, a safer idea; so he optimized his tool for offensive abilities and crossed his arms behind his head. Now that he was finished with his work, the feeling of hopelessness and desperation started to creep up on him again. He started up his omni-tool again and tried to make yet another call to C-Sec but to no avail - the colony's own communications tower was blocking all other signals. Ilwen sighed and just absently browsed through his tool and on a whim, tried contacting Rithe. He blinked in surprise when the message went through, and even more so when Rithe replied a few moments later.

Ilwen, you need to sleep.

_ _ Ilwen responded quickly, frowning and repeating the message out loud to himself - a habit he had picked up long ago. "I can't, Rithe. How can you just say that? How can you be so casual?"

Getting upset and panicking won't help anyone.

"But we... we're screwed unless a miracle happens. I can't believe we save her life and she betrays us."

Don't worry; I've got it under control. And don't be so quick to hate Annike.

_ _ "What do you know that I don't?"

Just be ready.

_ _ "Ready? What do you mean ready?"

Ilwen waited, but Rithe stopped responding. The salarian sighed and closed his eyes, placing a hand on his forehead. "Well, in retrospect, finding offensive tech was a good idea."

He looked at a nearby old terminal and waved his omni-tool. The terminal's screen flashed brilliantly, and then went out with a loud crackling hiss. Ilwen narrowed his eyes and waved his tool again and the screen flickered back to life after a moment.

"At least I'm still good at hacking; let's hope armor suits are just as easy... They won't be, but let's hope anyway."

He lay back down and tried to sleep but couldn't. Instead he stood at the hangar door, gazing out of the window at the colony. The electric torches standing alongside the roads gave off an eerie glow, but somehow it was soothing as well. They mimicked the flickering of ancient flame torches and Ilwen gazed at them and couldn't stop the tiny smile that formed across his lips. He found himself thinking that they represented a spark of hope, and thought himself foolish and poetic - neither of which that could help Annike, Rithe, and him. No, when morning came, the first chance he got, he would have to take it.

* * *

Annike walked casually back to Rowels' cabin and let herself in. The master was sitting at his table sipping a glass of cheap wine and he looked up at her admiringly.

"You know, for a second I thought I was going to have a pretty girl to sell to the mercs, too. But I'm glad you finally decided where your loyalties lie."

"Let's see, a pretty comfortable life, versus a life as some batarian's bitch. I think I'll take the comfortable life, but that's just me."

"Ah, I still have not gotten used to your... sarcasm, but I'm sure in due time you will curb that as well as your trigger finger. Wouldn't want another one limping away, hm?"

Annike clenched her teeth to keep from flying off into a rage at him, and he looked at her smugly.

"You can find out anything about anyone for even the smallest amount of money, my dear," he said and sipped his wine again, then poured himself another glass.

"I'm sure," she replied and while he was not paying attention, she looked around the cabin for his data pad. She found it, sitting on his nightstand, and moved closer nonchalantly, forcing conversation to keep him occupied. "And you're sure these mercs will pay you, and not just put a hole in your head, as well as my head, and everyone else here, and simply take the turian?"

"True, I have no reason to believe they will pay me. But ah, well my dear, on the one hand we have me, a simple human colonist bumpkin who has, by some miracle, captured a decorated and dangerous turian soldier. Imagine my delight and, dare I say, giddy laughter as I read the salarian's distress message and saw the very name of the turian that the mercs in this system had posted a bounty for, no more than six hours prior? And he falls right out of the sky and into my lap! That will garner respect if nothing else; mercenary groups have some sense of honor, the Gray Equinox more so than others. So I'm not gravely worried. However, on the other hand, we're all going to hell, if I take the express way then so be it."

Annike huffed and continued working with her tool, "So in other words. If they pay you, fine; and if they kill you, fine. I guess I can live with that."

"Spare me, my dear," Rowels flicked his hand at her condescendingly, "You'll be getting a cut of the profit of course, for leading the turian here, whether you did so knowingly or not; you played perfectly into my plans, and for that I must thank you."

"Or rather, keep me on your side. Or else, right?"

"Oh don't be so glum, my dear!" Rowels exclaimed and raised his glass. "A toast!"

Annike tipped her head at him, "Up yours."

"My, my, such a sharp mouth. In time, in time. You'll come to respect me, or hate me. I care not, as long as you listen to me, or, as you so put it, you can end up a batarian's bitch. Or would you rather be with a krogan? I thought not. Or you could shoot me, too. But, you shoot me; they shoot you, or toss you out to the varren. My goodness I simply love being on top."

Annike scowled and stood up, "You made your point. I need air, it's rather piss-poor in here, I'll take my leave."

She rushed out, ignoring Rowels' taunting and headed back to her own private cabin; nearly all of the soldiers stayed with their own families or in this case in the infirmary, and she was neither sick nor had any family anymore, so the cabin was hers and hers alone. She instantly went to work with her omni tool. She dropped into her desk chair and began skimming through the couple hundred gigs of files, looking for proof: a whisper of Rowels' crookedness, his contract with the mercs, anything.

* * *

Rithe lay down on the hard, chilly metal bench with his arms behind his head and his legs crossed. He thought of himself, of Ilwen, his friends back on Palaven, his brother, his niece. He thought of Annike and her private past, her irreverent nature, of their first meeting. His thoughts ultimately drifted to Xeriln, the best father figure Rithe had, and he thought of how many batarians the old turian must have killed before they overwhelmed him on the Halvmaen. This made Rithe feel guilty as he, himself, had just run away.

The turian wondered why he had run and could find no other reason other than it felt like the best move. The Halvmaen was one of the greatest of the turian ships: a ship specifically designed to exceed in stealth-based maneuvers and combat, and under the proper (Rithe hated to use this word in relation to the batarians, or anyone other than a turian) command it could evade detection by even the most determined army for, hell, only the gods knew how long. No, the feeling to run must have come so that Rithe could live to help track the ship down and put her back under turian command as he and Ilwen, aside from Xeriln, had served on that ship longer than any current member had deceased or otherwise; and he would be able to provide support and fervor in the search... as well as implode the skulls of one batarian for every crewmember killed within the Halvmaen's decks.

Rithe tapped his foot absently as he waited for morning to come, knowing that he wouldn't be sleeping tonight anyway. Instead, he ran plans and scenarios through his head.

If Annike managed to find her proof and join him, she would escort Ilwen here, claiming his insubordination. Then, it was all a matter of contacting the Systems Alliance and surviving long enough to get out of here. That part wouldn't be hard; the heat had managed to help, confining all of the soldiers to bed. That left the mercs. Rithe hoped that the girl was as good with a rifle as she boasted about on the walk over here. Ilwen had his tech, and Rithe had his biotics, but they were strangers in a land that was full of people who had never seen a turian or a salarian... and ignorance often begets fear. And fear is easily manipulated. Rithe had no doubt that Rowels could rally the citizens to literally throw themselves at he and Ilwen. Hopefully Annike could turn them against Rowels if she found any proof of his treason...

Or, the other, more likely scenario: Rowels was a fool, but he was still smart enough not to take the chance and keep records of his transactions with mercenaries even among people who trusted him completely and regarded his word as law, Rithe figured. The thought of Rowels using innocent people as meat shields came back to Rithe. He closed his eyes and sighed. With or without proof, they would have to keep the colonists out of it, deal with the mercenaries, and get off the planet.

Rithe's eyes sparkled in the near-morning light and he looked out of the window toward the horizon as it began to brighten and glow a deep red. Already the temperature was rising back to its sweltering peak, and he remembered the hurricane he had seen as Ilwen and he were descending in their escape pod. He recalled thinking it was an omen - that it seemed to envelop and devour the small island, and his eyes narrowed as he told himself that he had been correct.