Cipritine, Palaven, Trebia System, 02 October 2169 CE

"Kabalim Chellen, please recount the details of your mission for the rest of High Command," Primarch Fedorian stood behind a podium, a half crescent of lower elevated podiums extended to his left and right. Numerous generals and admirals occupied those positions.

"Of course, Primarch," Nassus Chellen said smartly, arms clasped tightly behind her back. Her own rank, while respectable within the Cabal, was dwarfed by the turians attending this inquisition and the situation required the due respect.

"Two years ago, the Cabal Triumvirate assigned me to investigate numerous biotic turian mercenaries in the Terminus Systems. A previously unknown human company was recruiting them, but did not advertise the details behind the contract. My primary objectives were to ensure these mercenaries were not selling confidential Hierarchy operational procedures and discover the intent of the company behind the operation," she summarized for the tribunal.

"Kabalim, why were the members of High Command not aware of your activities," a general, whose named escaped her, asked clearly irritated.

"General, this mission fell under direct jurisdiction of the Triumvirate and my active military status was altered to deep covert. Communication was limited between me and the authority of the Cabal," Nassus answered nonplussed

"General, there are no errors with her professional conduct. The Triumvirate followed all necessary procedures. Please continue Kabalim," the Primarch prompted. Nassus returned a nod.

"I joined a small mercenary group under an established cover and alias. After a month, I was approached by a salarian during a stop-over in Omega. He arranged a meeting between me and a human, where I was offered a significant sum of credits for a job. The only requirements were my biotic ability and a nondisclosure agreement for ten years after job completion. Upon my agreement, I boarded a human vessel and was brought to a space station located in the Sol System."

An admiral sighed and clicked his talons against his podium.

"Humans called it Gagarin Station or Jump Zero. The human company, Conatix, was developing a fledgling biotics training program. Along with myself, ten turians handled training for over two hundred human adolescents. Several of the mercenaries behaved unfitting of representatives of the Hierarchy. I spent a considerable amount of time ensuring no human children were severely injured or killed during training, in order to prevent a serious interspecies incident."

"Yet, here we are. Your efforts were clearly insufficient," another general sneered. In the backlit shadows, she noticed nodding in her periphery.

"The attack in question occurred during the early operational hours of the station. Myself and the mercenary Vyrnnus—I've attached his dossier and service record in my report—were escorting a group of humans to the training bay. The other mercenaries were doing likewise at separate locations. We encountered two armed attackers, who wore nonstandard hardsuits. They initiated the attack. Vyrnnus disabled one and confiscated their assault rifle. I engaged the other attacker. In the ensuing fight, I destroyed the helmet of the one I fought, revealing an adolescent human," she recalled his young brown colored face.

"Ridiculous, humans don't use children as soldiers. They don't get trained until they're matured," A human-savvy general asserted.

"You're correct, under normal circumstances General. One of the combatants died and our intelligence reports show it was indeed a child," Primarch Fedorian read the information off a datapad. "Additionally, there's evidence that the child wasn't killed by any of the station's security forces but some type of implanted high yield explosive."

"The Batarian Hegemony is known to use explosive collars and vests on their slave armies. Are we positive this isn't just a batarian slaver raid?" Numerous voices engaged in hushed conversations, discussing the possibility.

"Primarch, if I may continue," Nassus requested at a slightly higher volume than the chatter. The Primarch nodded and silenced the group.

"My military record shows my extensive experience in operations against batarian-backed pirates and slavers. I can safely state this group were not batarian slaves. They were well-trained, on-par with the Special Intervention Unit," she said referencing the small branch of batarian special forces, "Vyrnnus overwhelmed his adversary with biotics, evidence they don't have experience fighting biotics. The child I fought was a biotic, he negated my push by using some strange techniques. He was also trained in unarmed combat, his movements were quick but crude."

"The SIU is hardly a good measure of combat ability. The Alliance decimated that group nearly ten years ago," the general discredited her comparison.

"True. However, that's their premiere operational force. They wouldn't train slaves to that level," an admiral across the room corrected the other. "The control devices also render biotics unusable."

"Kabalim, if you're so competent in unarmed combat, how did Vyrnnus die and the both of the attackers get away?"

Nassus was prepared for this question. She wasn't sure why she let the human go. Maybe she saw a bit of herself in the child. Regardless, killing children is not why she served the Hierarchy.

"Vyrnnus was about to execute the first human when I ordered him otherwise. The human child slipped passed me and rushed Vyrnnus. The child killed him using some type of warp, destroying his hand in the process. The child armed himself with an assault rifle, which he used to for his escape. Instead of pursuing, I prioritized the safety of the humans in my charge. The station's emergency alarm sounded and I assumed he would be captured by the human security. I didn't find out until later that they escaped because of the damage caused from an explosion in the nearby shuttle bay."

"Why do we have no security records from the station? We could've analyzed the footage."

"I attempted to hack into the station's network and download the files. However, the records from that entire day were deleted from the mainframe and the back-up data storage. I couldn't find the source, but there's evidence that it was deleted several hours after the attack was over."

"Thank you for your report, Kabalim," the Primarch said.

"This still doesn't answer what we're going to do about the Alliance," an admiral stated, spurring several separate arguments in the room.

"The Hierarchy is in no way responsible for the attack."

"Two turian mercenaries are dead and three are missing."

"Aside from the Kabalim, who the Alliance thinks was just another mercenary, none were in active service."

"Human on human conflicts do not involve the Hierarchy."

The debate continued for several minutes. Nassus grew stiff holding her stance.

"I have a proposal for the Hierarchy's response," a general who had been quiet for the entirety of the inquisition announced.

"General Victus, if you will," the Primarch permitted.

"Alliance extranet new feeds have shown that a majority of the humans didn't know about the facility or the training conducted there. Over forty of the children were kidnapped during the raid, including the deaths of dozens of the scientists and security working on the station. They consider this a huge tragedy. The Alliance will likely cease the training program there," General Kalor Victus explained with an even tone. "The Hierarchy should make an official statement condemning the attack and express our support in searching for the kidnapped children. Additionally, we should offer a joint biotic training program and aid them in developing their own doctrine."

"Absurd."

"We implemented a similar program with the volus after we made first contact," General Victus argued.

"Your plates are soft from spending time on Earth," an admiral accused.

"I'll take your recommendation into consideration and discuss it with the Councilor. This tribunal is adjourned," Primarch Fedorian said leaving the podium.

General Victus approached her, who was still standing in her military relaxed stance. His uniform was marked with the medical branch of service, a blue leaf of a distinct native Palaven herb. The commander of all the hospitals on the planet.

"Kabalim Chellen, pleasure to meet you. I'm very interested in your experiences in Alliance space. I enjoyed a small tour on Earth several years ago," he smiled as he spoke. She could see why the others in the room accused him of having soft plates. Probably a human-fanatic, a trait mostly seen in asari.

"I was too busy with my assignment to visit Earth, General," Nassus maintained her bearing.

"Shame. Earth is quite something. One of my contacts in the Citadel said the son of a friend of mine was sent to that biotic training program, maybe you remember him? His name is Richter Ransom, a small brown haired child," he asked her rather solemnly.

Nassus knew most of the students in the program, though it took her considerable effort to recognize individual human faces at first. She didn't recognize that name, however.

"Apologies, I don't know of any students by that name," she told him truthfully.

"It's quite alright, Kabalim. I've been trying to investigate the matter since the Alliance has been silent about the names of the kidnapped children," the general explained. Nassus didn't respond, she was also unable to procure the list while she was detained by the Alliance.

"Thank you for your time, Kabalim. Now if you'll excuse me."

Seeing the older turian depart, she relaxed. She still had another long flight ahead of her. While she was on assignment, her Cabal was left under the leadership of a junior kabalim. It would be a good change of pace to reassume command. Still, she would need to make a few short detours. Information brokers on Palaven were the best in the cluster if you knew where to look. Naturally, she did. A friend of hers from a previous assignment owed her and it was time settle the debt. Cerberus, adolescent human biotic soldiers—it all reeked worse than a varren in a vorcha nursery.

Typhon Outpost, Proteus, Athens System, 10 December 2169 CE

A small glass shattered against the floor, drawing the anxious glances of several newer teenagers and children also eating. Richter purposefully secluded himself to a corner of the mess, not wanting to interact with the fledgling group of biotics.

He leaned over the table and inspected the mess he made, his right-hand gripping and releasing the air erratically. A strange combination of flesh and metallic cybernetics replaced the once functioning and organic appendage. Damage to his nerves didn't fully recover from the operation, leaving a half-numb sensation tingling his fingertips.

"Don't tell me the synthetic uprising is going to begin with your hand," Gamma snickered.

"Yeah, just give it fifteen years," Richter told her, returning to his meal. He wasn't normally left handed but holding utensils with the other was still too difficult for him.

"I'm just glad they were able to fix it," Epsilon said while glaring at Gamma.

"Could've turned out a lot worse," he said noncommittally.

"Yeah, you coulda pulled a Beta and got yourself killed," Gamma quipped, mouth full of food.

"You... you're the worst," the other girl was getting emotional again.

"Knock it off, Gamma. Beta was one of us. And what happened to him could happen to us if we don't look out for each other," his hand twitched and tapped the table.

"One of us?" She gave a beguiling smile and jammed a thumb behind her toward the large group of new biotics, "next you'll be telling me they are one of us too."

There was a commotion with quite a bit of yelling going on behind her. Two of the older boys, Kaidan and another, were about to start fighting. Their biotics were flaring.

"Yeah, maybe not," Richter stood up to leave the mess before getting involved in the biotic dog fight.

The other girls followed suit, but only Epsilon followed him directly. Gamma went towards the two arguing biotics. She waved her hand casually, as if trying to ward a way an insect. She threw both of them, launching them over the tables into the far wall. Kaidan collided with the drink dispensers, causing a deluge of clear liquid to pour all over the floor. Happy with her work, she skipped towards her friends, her blonde hair bouncing with ever step.

"I don't think that was necessary," Epsilon folded her arms across her chest, stopping outside the mess room doors.

"No, but it was fun," she retorted.

Wyoming turned the corner and walked directly to them. He wore his athletic training clothes, his brown skin glossy from sweat.

"Subject Epsilon, what happened," he asked angrily.

"The new kids started fighting, so we intervened," Epsilon told her trainer.

"What? Again?" His face contorted and his hands balled into fists. Pushing his wayo between the three of them, he left them and entered the mess.

"He's pissed," Gamma laughed.

"Let's get going, it's almost time for physical training," he told the two.

"Why rush? It's not like the team trainers will be there."

"That's not the last mission they'll send us on, so we're going to train regardless. Or next time it might be you 'pulling a Beta,'" warned Richter.

"Okay, okay, don't bite my head off."

Since returning from the mission, the team trainers had been spending all their time with the new group. Overwhelmed by the increase in numbers, Nevada and the others would give some guidance and autonomy to complete it. The only time they required a trainer was at the firing range and when using LOKI mechs in combat simulations. Somehow, he became the de facto sheepherder for the three, ensuring they completed whatever task was given for the day. Their personal access was expanded across Typhon outpost, however they weren't allowed access to the laboratory and the CIC.

Richter stepped onto the mat with the other two hesitantly joining him. He could tell they really didn't enjoy this, mostly because he was fifty pounds heavier than them and a lot better at sparring.

"It's two versus one, don't be too scared now," he taunted them. The genetic therapy they both were undergoing would make them stronger given time, but right now they weren't much more capable than an unmodified human. His parents augmented him before he was born. Boosted musculature gave him a significant advantage.

Predictably, Gamma moved first. Her foot swung wide, sweeping toward his side. Absorbing the blow with his side, he grabbed her leg and pulled it back, sending her off balance. Kicking her other foot outwards, he slammed her into the mat. Epsilon sent a series of punches aimed at his head and torso. He received several solid hits from her quick strikes. Gamma was up and moving behind him. Richter slapped away another punch and launched a hook into the side of Epsilon's head. She blocked the blow, her elbow high near her face, but stumbled with the force. Gamma latched onto his back, arm sinking in deep around his neck and legs locked around his waist.

"Got you now tough guy," she squeezed her small arms trying to choke him out.

Not fazed by the maneuver, he jumped slightly backwards and slammed her into the mat. To her credit, she held on. Reaching an arm behind, he used his superior strength to pull her arm away. Before he could peel her off, Epsilon moved on top of him and started striking his unguarded face. He blocked the shots as best he could but the choke got tighter.

He twisted his body like a helix and pushed Epsilon's light body to the side. His free arm swung, striking Gamma in the ribs. A sharp groan exited her lips behind his ear.

Richter's vision turned purple and his body launched skyward. The ceiling filled his view faster than he could react. His entire body crashed against the ceiling before gravity pulled him back downwards. The mat cushioned the fall but not completely. Strength left his limbs and he felt the world spinning.

"Why did you do that!" Epsilon knelt down over him.

"He hit me… like really hard," she said pressing one hand toward her side.

Epsilon shot her a nasty look.

"Stop worrying, your boyfriend is just fine," Gamma teased.

Ignoring the comment, she looked into his unfocused eyes.

"Delta, can you hear me?"

Richter blinked his eyes a few times and propped himself on his elbows.

"I feel like I've hit by an aircar," he wobbled to his feet and met Gamma's eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," she glanced to the side, "but you really did hit me super hard."

"Forget about it. Save it for the enemy next time," he moved to the bench and drank some water. "You two keep going. No biotics. I'm serious."

Richter's body was on fire. He wondered if everyone who got hit with biotics feels this way. Behind him, he heard footsteps cross the rec room floor.

"The team is getting tired of being alerted every time one of you shoots off your biotics," Nevada scolded him.

"It's a part of combat training," Richter replied not turning to him.

"Not when you push two new recruits across a room and break mess equipment."

"Recruits, huh. They were about to start fighting again. I can see they're adjusting well to the change of scenery."

"Maybe all the fighting will mean they won't get flattened on the ceiling by a girl half his weight," Nevada deadpanned.

"I was hoping no one saw that," Richter sighed.

"Most of security has seen it by now."

"They're on a different level. Doubt anyone would be able to get within three meters of them," Richter shrugged, watching the two exchange blows on the mat. The raid on Jump Zero displayed the pair's ability to clear entire squads of enemy. Granted the security forces on the station were unarmored and equipped with only side-arms. Meanwhile, Richter and Nevada couldn't manage to neutralize two biotic turians without incident. Richter blamed himself, he knew. A biotic throw or singularity from Gamma or Epsilon would have made short work of the turians. Richter's biotic ability stagnated while theirs grew more and more.

"I've never seen anything like it either. It's a good sign. It'll level the playing field," Nevada offered.

Richter remained silent. Two or three biotics wasn't enough to make such a bold claim. Cerberus kidnapping biotic children would eventually attract additional attention from the Alliance. One raid is an anomaly, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern. Inevitably, the Alliance will find this outpost. He hoped sooner rather than later.

Nevada outlined tasks for the rest of the week, interspersed with some small talk. Nevada's attitude since the raid on Gagarin Station changed significantly. While he worked with Richter significantly less due to the influx of new students, he was more social and open now but still stoic compared to the other team instructors. Richter assumed the change in his instructor's attitude was due to him extracting him from the station.

At some level, he regretted not escaping to Alliance authorities when he had a chance. Leaving the other subjects under Cerberus control was not something he was comfortable doing. He also needed to figure out how to disable the explosive planted somewhere in his neck as well. As soon as Beta went berserk, they killed him outright. If they had any hesitation in killing one of them, Richter didn't see it. If the explosive triggered once they were unrecoverable during a mission, he'd die before Alliance doctors could dig it out.

He needed more information before he confidently develop an escape plan. Partially mechanical fingers danced through the air while he considered his options. A faint tingling radiating from his fingertips.

"We flew in a specialist for those prosthetics. Not something our organization is prone to do," the stout man said, observing his restlessness.

"I'm thankful. The entire fight is a blur, maybe I could have something different," Richter lamented. "Can't lose a hand every time I'm in a fight."

"Watch this," Nevada opened the holo-display on his omni-tool and opened a file. A video started playing. For a few moments, the area in the recording was empty. Two armored figures entered into recording, sprinting down the hallway. They skid to a halt as the forms of two turians and many students entered the frame. He recognized it for what it was, the recording from station raid.

The scene played out how he remembered it. The other half of the fight was new to him however. On the far side of the room, Nevada fired his rifle in several bursts. The biotic shield of the second turian absorbed all the rounds. Three successive biotic blasts hit Nevada's shield before dissipating it completely and squarely landing on his head. The support from his armor prevented his neck from breaking but the impact violently sent his head backward. That was the moment Nevada lost consciousness.

Nevada grimaced watching it again. Richter knew his pride was damaged due to the encounter.

"I've fought turians before, but not one like that. Most turian biotics serve as support roles and are augmented by several soldiers. This one didn't flinch and leveled me before I could react. I'm not showing you so you can watch me," Nevada said while rewinding the footage.

The scuffle with the small female turian was short. Biotic force sent Richter upward before he created an opposing biotic force to bring himself back down. Blows were traded at a speed that appeared inhuman. Richter was awed by himself. It didn't feel like him on the screen. The turian's movements were natural and fluid, echelons above his own, every movement flowing into another. Richter's body reacted to the strikes in an admirable attempt to resist before being dropped by a biotic kick. The fight progressed to the point where he shielded Nevada and killed the other mercenary.

"You impressed a lot of people. The staff here have confidence that the project is working. A little bit of propaganda to increase morale. You made a small sacrifice but we made it back alive. Sometimes that's a victory on its own."

Richter was almost convinced. Nevada powered down the omni-tool and returned to his duties, having spent too much time in the sparring facility.

Rubbing his hands together, he hunched over and let his eyes drift. After years of training under Cerberus, being treated like a test subject, going through physically and mentally exhausting training, they were finally being trusted. They weren't equals, but something closer to it. It felt good—belonging to a team—but he couldn't lose focus on his goals. In the future, Cerberus would be hunted aggressively by Admiral Kahoku or Hackett. He couldn't remember which. He regretted not writing down knowledge from his past more aggressively, but he wasn't willing the risk that information being found by his family, Alliance, or other organizations. He survived the first mission, but how long would his luck last acting as a Cerberus weapon? Not very long, he calculated.

A towel collided with his face, falling into his hands.

"What'd the big man want?" Gamma asked, her sweat glistened along her flushed cheeks.

"Nevada was chewing me out because of you," he tossed it back at her.

"Not man enough to talk to me himself?" she mocked and wiped the sweat from her face, "has to go through his little disciple instead."

"It never ends with you," Epsilon wrapped the towel behind her neck.

She laughed at the remark.

A few days passed without incident. The halls of Typhon Outpost shook with the movement of the new subjects during most parts of the day. The trio kept to themselves, not wanting to deal with the rowdy group of Cerberus acolytes.

Richter closed the door on a storage unit depositing random gear they used for training that day. The outpost's lack of personnel meant drawing, moving, and storing gear was left to the teams. They were told not to leave the equipment strewn about the various shared facilities. A mundane task for the supposed elite group of soldiers. But no one is too good to clean up after themselves, Richter silently agreed.

Making his way to his room, he heard talking echoing off the smooth walls coming from the dormitories. The voices were growing sharper. Now more alert, he quickened his pace to a fast walk.

"Wanna repeat that, lurch?" A feminine voice spat.

The source of the voices came into view. Gamma was glaring up at Kaiden, who towered over her by almost two heads. Both were leaning forward aggressively, but neither were charging biotic power yet.

Better go stop her before he gets seriously hurt, Richter sighed internally.

Kaidan glanced towards Richter as he approached them. A small smirk slipped across the tall biotic's face. Gamma followed his gaze to see Richter.

"What's going on here?" Richter probed, stopping short several paces.

"None of your business, kid. I have to teach this brat a lesson in respect," he said deliberately trying to irritate Richter. Richter was too confused at his behavior to register the insult. The Kaidan from his past life was not the kind of person to be acting so immaturely.

"Go back to your quarters," Richter demanded. Gamma relaxed a bit at his order.

"Yeah, don't think so," Kaidan chuckled before he threw Gamma hard against the wall faster than either could react. Gamma's feet left the ground unable to bring up her defenses from the biotic attack.

Richter postured to dash forward only to see Kaidan closing the distance with him with several large bounds. The sprinting man threw a wild haymaker towards Richter's face, biotic energy coalescing around his fist. Richter side stepped the highly telegraphed attack, only to be pulled toward the biotic energy. His balance broken, he barely regained his footing to duck a hook from Kaidan's other hand. The intangible force drew his body toward the blow as if Richter was on a rollercoaster was making sharp turns and drops.

Another flurry of blows kept him on the defensive, his wildly shifting center of gravity making his movements slower and more difficult. Richter was annoyed now. Kaidan charged biotic energy as fast as he could throw punches. Not even Gamma or Epsilon could manage that and they were far more talented than him.

Richter breathed hard, his rapid movements not giving him time to breath as he tightened his core. He launched himself backward, tumbling under another blow to escape the attracting force of Kaidan's biotic attacks.

Kaidan reached towards him, this time pulling Richter who escaped out of range. Richter did not resist as the force grabbed him, yanking him forward. Instead, he spooled biotic energy, enveloping his entire body. He imagined the force forming a small barrier on his front, fonts of kinetic energy readying to blast forward like a shotgun. Kaidan's foot was alight with biotic fire as he made turned into a side kick, ready to intercept Richter from the pull.

Richter accelerated into the pull. A shimmer of purple light along his trajectory. Before the kick completed its rotation, Richter charged into Kaidan. He released the built-up energy when they made contact. An explosive rupture blasted forward. The energy sent the large teen flying through the length of the hall. Richter skid behind him along the smooth floor before friction slowed him to a stop.

His chest heaved as he kept his eyes locked on Kaidan. That was it. He would request their quarters and training areas were off-limits to the new recruits. His emotions were boiling over, spilling into a visible scowl.

Tapping a most likely redundant alert to Nevada in his omni-tool, he moved over and checked Gamma. Being knocked out was severe and he had to get her to the medical bay. The back of the head is particularly vulnerable and there's a possibility to be knocked into a coma.

He knelt down and felt a quiet breath on his ear. Being careful not to move her head, his fingers swept for blood behind her blonde hair and found none. After a few minutes, outpost medics arrived with two stretchers with armed personnel in tow.

"Put the big one in restraints," he pointed past the group to Kaidan. A hand roughly grasped his shoulder from behind, causing him to reflexively spin away. Guns were being pointed at him as well. His bad mood chilled immediately, not ready to make the situation worse by arguing with the men.

"You'll come with us, subject," one said as two others moved from his side. One of men slapped heavy metallic dampener collar to his neck.

Independent Station Farside, Terminus Systems, 16 December 2169 CE

"B-Man! 'ere I thought you had gone corporate on us for good," the spindly man threw his hand out far from his body to meet Patel's for an exaggerated hand-shake.

The assassin begrudgingly accepted the gesture, keenly aware of the man's excessively friendly nature. The skinny man was in his late forties. With the nom de guerre of 'the Fence,' it was a surprise to most how he had never been caught by Alliance organized crime agents. Born in some forgotten Eurasian slum, the Fence learned the street price of precious metals used in micro-electronics and how to pawn cartons of stolen cigarettes before he could write his own name. The man's experience in the fringe black market business overwhelmed even a veteran like Patel.

Part fence, part smuggler, and part information broker, the Fence was one of the best in the business.

"Man, that's one mean piece of hardware, military grade cold metal," the Fence inspected Patel's vambrace that still wrapped around his forearm.

"I'm not selling it."

"Yeah, sure, sure. Used to see these back in the South American unification mess. Brazzy night stalker boys were outfitted with the things. Cracked the entire Argentinian air defense network," the Fence's blood shot eyes seemed to be running the calculation as he spoke.

"Sure you don't want to sell it to me, B-Man? Could get you a sweet 'tool for an upgrade, spectre shit, no doubt. Big market right now for authentic pre-M.E. human tech. Aliens are crazy about it. Shits selling like we're going to go extinct next week, man."

"No, but I'll do you a favor and call some friends. They might have one or two sitting in the back of some warehouse," the assassin promised.

"You'd do that for me, B-Man? That's great, it really is," he nodded his head a few times, "So, why you here, man? You haven't been making the rounds on the normal circuit. You dealing with some mean customers. Nasty business. Dangerous," the Fence crossed his arms, making his small frame seem even smaller.

"You aint here to do me in, are you?" he fumbled a cigarette out of an unmarked white pack. "Fucking some Julius Caesar shit," he muttered with an unlit cigarette in his mouth while he patted and searched the same four pockets repeatedly looking for a lighter.

Patel grabbed the lighter on the cluttered desk and struck the flint, holding the small font of fire in front of the Fence's face.

"No, I'm sure you would know before I did if a hit was placed on you," he placed the lighter back on the desk.

"That's the thing, man. That group you're running with now. I don't know what kind of deal they made you, but they're too big, too connected," the Fence blew smoke as he rambled, the wisps pulled upwards by the invisible force of a hidden atmosphere scrubber.

"They're like some man. Working with both hands at the same time. Neither hand knows what the other is doing, you see? The man won't let them. He just keeps telling them 'do this, do that'. So if you figure out one hand is doing, the other could picking your pocket from behind. So, what I'm trying to say is that I might know what one hand is doing, but not the faintest clue if the other is after my wallet," the Fence rubbed out the cigarette in a full ash tray. He moved to grab another cigarette.

Patel smiled, his too perfect teeth contrasting with the darkness of his skin.

"I'm not here to do you in, but I need information," Patel helped him light another cigarette.

"Yeah man, sure sure. Anything for you, boss," he propped an elbow against a cabinet, albeit awkwardly leaning over.

"Heading out to some colonies in the Attican Traverse. Hunting down a handful of Batarian slavers who have been operating around there. I'll buy any information you can give me on them," Patel gave a bit of free information to man.

"Yeah, some four eyed big shot is making moves out there, ya know? Alliance is stirring like a bee hive, trying to figure out how they keep slipping into the systems when the relay is under guard by a small fleet all the god damn time. It's not my expertise, B-Man. Batarians. How big is your budget? I can get you primo shit, but it'll cost you. I can get in touch with this guy, Shadow Broker, he calls himself. Dramatic, right? But this guy is going to put me out of business if he ever lowers his prices, promise," the Fence said hardly taking the time to breath.

"Price is a non-issue," Patel nonchalantly keyed his vambrace and sent a credit line to the Fence. The wirey man expanded the bright orange display from his own omni-tool and smiled. His stained brown teeth seeming worse than they were under the glow.

"B-Man, I don't get it. You got the style, and the moves to match the style. Why give up freelance work?" the Fence was typing into an older-styled console now, eyes darting across the screen.

Patel took off one of his lamb skinned gloves and inspected his sunglasses. Some particulate from the dirty air had settled on the lenses. Clear dark eyes revealed themselves and fixated intensely on the man.

"Patriotism," he smiled.

Author's note: Thanks to all the readers who take the time to read my story. I hope it's holding your interest. I'm in the process of rewriting the next chapter. I had some issues with the pacing. I'm currently working on a post graduates degree so I only write during my brief moments of free time. Admittedly, I don't write that fast. As always, constructive criticism and PMs are always welcome.