“Don’t,” he muttered, ashamed. “I don’t deserve that. Not anymore.”

Anderson extended his hand instead. The older man hesitated a moment, then reached out and clasped it in a surprisingly firm grip.

“You’re a better man than I ever was, Anderson. The Alliance is lucky to have you.”

The lieutenant didn’t know what to say, so he only nodded. Grissom took him firmly by the elbow and led him out of the living room to the front door.

“Remember your promise,” he said as his parting words. “Don’t let anything happen to my daughter.”

Grissom watched the lieutenant leaving his home on the vid-screen for the security camera over his door, only turning away when the young man got into his vehicle and sped off. Then he made his way slowly to the back of the house and knocked once on the closed door of his bedroom.

A second later Kahlee opened it and asked, “Who was it?”

“Some Alliance snoop who figured out we were related. I sent him on a wild-goose chase. He’ll spend the next two weeks out near the Terminus Systems chasing down an old friend of mine.”

“Are you sure he bought it?” Kahlee asked.

“I gave him exactly what he wanted,” Grissom said with a cynical smile, “the chance to help an old, broken-down hero remember something of who he used to be.

“But he’s not the one we have to worry about,” Grissom continued. “Things won’t get tough until we run into someone involved in the attack on Sidon.”

Kahlee reached out and grabbed his hand, pressing it firmly between her own palms. “Thank you,” she said, staring up into her father’s eyes. “I mean it.”

He nodded, and shifted uncomfortably until she released her grip. “We’ll wait a few more days,” he said, turning away and leaving her to the privacy of her room, “then we’ll figure out some way to get you off this planet.”

A large, dark shadow crept quickly and quietly across the moonlit grounds of Grissom’s estate, making its way toward the home.

Skarr could move silently when he had to, even in full body armor. It slowed him down, but he usually relied on strength rather than speed anyway.

There were no lights on inside the small house of the man Skarr now knew to be the father of his target. He’d been surprised when his batarian information broker had come up with the name of an Alliance hero, but it didn’t really change the job. It just meant there’d be more fallout when he was done.

The krogan didn’t know if Kahlee Sanders was inside, but even if she wasn’t her father probably knew how to find her. Skarr was confident he could make the human talk… as long as he didn’t accidentally kill him first. That’s why he was traveling light, armed only with a pistol and his favorite knife.

He paused outside the only door, listening for signs of life. From his belt he pulled out his omnitool, using it to hack in and disable the security system and override the electronic lock. He slid the omnitool back into his belt, exchanging it for his pistol, and pushed the door open.

His eyes still adjusting to the darkness, he put one foot across the threshold. The shotgun blast took him square in the chest.

There was a blue flash as the reflexive system of kinetic barrier fields reacted to the impact, deflecting most of the rounds harmlessly away. A few tore through the kinetic barriers only to ricochet off the ablative plates of his body armor, or bury themselves into the thick padding underlay. A handful penetrated every layer of protection and tore into the flesh beneath.

The force of the blast lifted the krogan off his feet, knocking the pistol from his grip and hurling him back out the door to land heavily on the ground.

Grissom jumped up from the chair where he’d been holding a nightly vigil ever since Kahlee had arrived and raised the gun for another shot. He’d recognized the blue flash as the intruder’s kinetic barriers that absorbed most of the initial blow. But the point-blank hit would’ve drained the shields, and one more good shot should finish the job.

Lying on his back, Skarr yanked the knife from his belt and flung it end over end at his attacker. The blade sank deep into the muscle of Grissom’s left bicep as he squeezed the shotgun’s trigger again, knocking him back and throwing off his aim. Instead of blowing away the krogan’s head, he left a scorching hole in the ground just beside him.

The shotgun’s barrel slipped from Grissom’s suddenly nerveless hand. Skarr was on his feet and back inside the house before the old man could use his one good arm to bring the weapon to bear again. Bellowing in anger, the krogan slapped the gun away with one massive fist, sending it skittering into the living room. He grabbed the human and flung him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

The blade slipped from Grissom’s arm as he slumped down to the floor, all the air knocked out of his lungs. The alien loomed above him, turning its head slightly so it could fix one of its cold, reptilian eyes on him. Grissom was no coward, but he felt fear grip his heart as he stared up into the dead, black pupil.

Then he heard a loud crack, crack, crack — the familiar retort of an Alliance Hahne-Kedar P15-25 — and the krogan staggered away. He’d been shot three times in the heavy hump of muscle and bone on his back, but he was still standing.

Lieutenant Anderson stood in the doorway, pistol drawn. He came into the room, firing the pistol a half dozen more times as the krogan turned to face him. He aimed low, looking to take out the legs. One of his shots found the exposed joint at the knee where the hard plates of body armor were connected by a flexible, but vulnerable, padded mesh.

Roaring in rage and agony the krogan crashed to the ground, clutching at his wounded joint.

“One move and the next shot goes right between your eyes,” Anderson warned, taking a bead on the bony ridge running along the top of the krogan’s skull.

Grissom was impressed. It wasn’t easy to take a human in full body armor down with a pistol, never mind a krogan.

“I’m glad to see you here,” he managed to gasp once the wind returned to his lungs.

“You didn’t honestly expect me to be fooled by that little performance you gave the other day,” Anderson replied, never taking his eyes or his weapon off the krogan in the corner. “I’ve been watching this place ever since I walked out your door.”

Grissom struggled to his feet, his left arm still dangling uselessly, his right pressed against his heavily bleeding wound. A moan of pain escaped his lips.

“Your friend is hurt,” the krogan growled.

Anderson wasn’t distracted, even for an instant. “He’s tough. He’ll live.”

The krogan was bleeding from the shot to his knee. The armor on his chest was peppered with small holes, the padding beneath scorched and burned. Dark blood oozed from three of them. Anderson guessed at least one of the shots to the back had penetrated deep enough to do some damage as well. But he’d seen krogans take a hell of a lot more punishment than this and keep coming.

The alien on the ground was a wounded beast — angry, desperate, and unpredictable. He was panting, though whether from pain, exertion, or pure rage it was hard to say. His scarred, brutish face was a mask of intense concentration; his muscles were tensed as if he was gathering himself to make a move.

But if he tried anything Anderson would shoot him in the head from inside of three meters. Even a krogan couldn’t survive that.

He heard a door open and footsteps come running down the hall. “Oh, God! You’re hurt!” a woman screamed.

Anderson wasn’t stupid enough to turn his head. But for a split second his eyes glanced in the direction of her voice. That was all the time the krogan needed.

He lashed out with a fist, sending a shock wave of rolling energy rumbling across the room. Anderson had never been hit with a biotic attack before, and he hadn’t expected one from a krogan. In the split second it took him to realize what was happening, he’d been swept up in the vortex and thrown all the way into the living room, where he crashed to the ground. It felt like being in an artificial gravity chamber when somebody switched the polarity: an instantaneous, inescapable, and irresistible force.