He couldn’t recover in time to grab his pistol from where it had fallen, nor could he reach the shotgun laying only a few feet away. Somehow the krogan, despite his injuries, was already back on his feet and nearly on top of him, swinging his fist with enough power to cave in Anderson’s skull. He ducked and slipped to the side, avoiding the punch. The follow-through landed square on the living room table; it disintegrated into splinters at the impact.

Everything had descended into chaos. Grissom was shouting at Kahlee to run, she was screaming at Anderson to grab one of the guns. The krogan was roaring in anger, flailing about the room, flinging and tossing the furniture like it was made of balsa wood while Anderson dodged and scrambled for his life, only able to avoid the killing blows because his opponent was still hobbled by his wounded knee.

From the corner of his eye he saw Kahlee rush forward into the fray, lunging in a desperate bid to get the shotgun. The krogan saw her, too, and wheeled on the young woman. He would have killed her right

then if another bullet hadn’t ripped through a seam in his armor at his hip, making him stagger off balance and misdirecting his blow.

Anderson whipped his head around to see a turian standing in the door where he had been mere minutes before, firing a pistol at the krogan. The lieutenant had no idea who he was or why he was here… he was just glad they had somebody else on their side.

Most of the shots ricocheted off the krogan’s armor as the beast ducked down and tried to cover his head, the only exposed part of his body. He glanced back at the turian, then leaped through the living room window, smashing through the plate glass. The krogan landed on his shoulder on the grass outside and rolled to his feet in one smooth motion. He took off in a lumbering run, his gait awkward because of his injured leg, but moving far faster than Anderson would have believed possible for a creature of his size.

The turian stepped outside and fired a few shots into the darkness, then turned and came back into the house.

“Aren’t you going after him?” Grissom asked their unknown ally. He was still sitting on the floor, but he’d used the belt of his bathrobe to tie a tourniquet around his upper arm, stemming the flow of blood from his wounded bicep.

“Not armed only with this,” the turian responded, holding up his pistol. “Besides, only a fool faces a krogan biotic alone.”

“I think what Admiral Grissom actually meant to say,” Anderson said, coming over and extending his hand, “was thank you for saving us.”

The turian stared down at the offered hand, but made no effort to extend his own. Embarrassed, the lieutenant pulled his hand back.

“I know why he’s here,” Grissom said through teeth gritted against the pain, nodding his head in

Anderson’s direction. “What’s your story?”

“I’ve been tailing Skarr for two days,” the turian replied. “Waiting for him to make a move.” “Tailing him?” Kahlee asked as she came over to check on her father’s wound. “What for? Who are

you?”

“My name is Saren. I’m a Spectre. And I want some answers.”

Anderson and the Spectre sat in the kitchen, staring across the table at each other without speaking. The living room would have been more comfortable, but none of the chairs in there had survived the krogan’s rampage.

Like all turians, Saren’s face was covered by a mask of hard cartilage. But Saren’s mask was the pale color of bone; it looked like a skull. He reminded Anderson of the old Earth paintings depicting the Grim Reaper, the embodiment of death itself.

Kahlee was in the back, tending to Grissom’s wounds. The admiral had tried to protest, but he was weak from loss of blood and she’d managed to get him to lie down. She found a military field kit in his medicine chest with enough medigel to stabilize his condition, and now she was dressing his wound.

She’d wanted to take him to a hospital, or at least call an ambulance, but the Spectre had adamantly refused. “After you answer my questions” was all he’d say.

Anderson knew right then that he didn’t like Saren. Anyone who would use the prolonged pain and suffering of a family member for leverage was a sadist and a bully.

“He’s resting now,” Kahlee said, emerging from the back. “I gave him a sedative.”

She entered the kitchen and took a seat beside Anderson, instinctively aligning herself with one of her own kind. “Hurry up and ask your questions,” she said tersely, “so I can get my father to a hospital.”

“Cooperate and this will be over soon,” Saren assured her, then added, “Tell me about the Sidon military base.”

“It was wiped out in a terrorist attack,” Anderson answered, jumping in before Kahlee could say anything incriminating.

The turian glared at him. “Don’t play me for a fool, human. That krogan who nearly killed you all is a bounty hunter named Skarr. I’ve been following him for the past two days.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Kahlee asked, her voice so innocent Anderson almost believed she really didn’t know what was going on.

“He was hired by the man who ordered the attack on Sidon,” Saren replied with a scowl. “They sent him to eliminate the only survivor from the base. You.”

“Sounds like you know more about this than we do,” Anderson countered.

The turian slammed his fist down on the table. “Why was the base attacked?! What were you working on there?”

“Prototype technology,” Kahlee offered before Anderson could speak. “Experimental weapons for the

Alliance military.”

Saren tilted his head to the side, puzzled. “Experimental weapons technology? That’s all?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s all’?” Anderson sputtered in disbelief, running with the lie Kahlee had so deftly handed him.

“That hardly seems like justification for attacking a heavily armed Alliance base,” the turian replied. “We’re on the edge of a war in the Verge,” Anderson insisted. “Everybody knows it’s got to be us or the

batarians. Why wouldn’t they want to attack our primary weapons research base?”

“No,” Saren said flatly. “There’s something more. You’re hiding something.”

There was a long pause, and then the turian casually brought out his pistol and set it on the table. “Perhaps you don’t understand the full extent of Spectre authority,” he said ominously. “I have the legal

right to take any action I deem necessary during my investigations.”

“You’re going to kill us?” Kahlee exclaimed, her voice rising in shock and disbelief.

“I have two rules I follow,” Saren explained. “The first is: never kill someone without a reason.” “And the second?” Anderson asked, suspicious.

“You can always find a reason to kill someone.”

“Biotics,” Kahlee blurted out. “We were trying to find a way to turn humans into biotics.”

The turian considered her explanation for a moment then asked, “What were the results?”

“We were close,” the young woman admitted, her voice getting softer. “We found a handful of human subjects with latent biotic abilities. Children, mostly. Far weaker than what we’d measured in other species, but with the amplification nodes and proper training we still hoped to see results.

“We just completed the implantation surgery on several of our most promising candidates a few weeks ago. None of them survived the raid.”

“Do you know who ordered the attack?” he asked, changing tack.

Kahlee shook her head. “Batarians, probably. I was on leave when it happened.” “Why are they coming after you now?” Saren pressed.

“I don’t know!” she shouted, banging her fist on the table in exasperation. “Maybe they think I can get the program up and running again. But they destroyed the files. Killed the test subjects. All our research is gone!”