“Lookit, Shamul! XXX A blood soaked varren trotted up to Geoul, nuzzling its head against his leg. Why else would they wear the suits? He let a slow, trustworthy smile glide onto his face. Most of the other farm boys, like his brother, sprouted with the harvest around age thirteen. Ralph was in the fields before anyone, surveying the harvest, remained there throughout the day (which during a typical day of Mindoir was 35 C) and was the last to leave. Something was wrong…something Lysander couldn’t put his finger on. As the rain fell harder, Lysander realized why. Shamul extracted the rifle and handed off to one of his cohorts. The batarian glanced at Richard’s corpse. At the end of each day came
