A/N: Hi! So, this is a sequel to my first Andromeda fic (A Trail of Hope). This one takes place several months after the events of the game and, once again, these are my interpretations of the characters. Based on a custom Sara, but she sounds similar enough to default Sara so shouldn't cause many issues ;P

There was almost zero planning involved with this, which was fun :P I've made my OC a Brit because I was bound to throw in some Britishisms and I didn't want that to jar with people assuming she's American like the majority of ME characters seem to be :P

Hope you enjoy!

When Sara had been approached to join a group of scientists researching protheans on a genuine prothean dig site it had never really crossed her mind that she may actually need to fend off attackers. But apparently even common pirates knew the value of the equipment being used on site. They had struck during the dead of night while almost everyone slept, pushing through the site's laughable air defences with ease and setting their shuttles down close to the equipment containers. The majority of the researchers huddled in their trailers terrified as a heated firefight broke out around the landed shuttles, gunfire cracking and stuttering around the dig site. Most of the night time security team had been incapacitated almost immediately; injured or…worse. While aware of the possibility of an attack, no one had ever really expected it to become reality.

It was only the fast response of the remaining off duty Alliance security personnel that had saved the first team from being wiped out completely. That and the handful of mercenaries that had recently joined them to bulk out the meagre security detail. Sara had never been so happy to be serving with mercenaries than in that moment.

Sara, who had decided she couldn't stand idly by while others fought and were hurt trying to keep her safe. She had decided to put the little N7 training her father had unofficially given her and her brother to good use and was crouched down behind a crate as bullets zipped by and slammed harmlessly into the ground behind her or sparked off machinery and metal trunks. She clutched a Phalanx pistol she had taken from a weapons locker in the security bunker but had yet to take more than a couple of pot shots at the pirates. Peering around her cover she swore as she saw a group of them splitting off from the main fight around the dig, heading in the direction of the researchers' campsite. Maybe hoping for some hostages, maybe hoping to bag some easy credits while the rest of their group kept the soldiers busy? Sara didn't want to wait to find out and gave chase. She sprinted out of cover, keeping low to make herself a smaller target, following them into the campsite.

Big mistake.

She lost sight of them amongst the multitude of trailers and realised too late that she was alone and outnumbered and this was perhaps not her brightest idea ever. No one knew where she was, no one would come to her aid.

A gun butt shot out from behind a trailer and smashed straight into the side of her head. Sharp metal raked the side of her face, right eyebrow to cheekbone. Sara spun from the force of the impact and dropped to her knees as stars exploded in her vision, falling forwards and bracing on her hands. She blinked rapidly in shock as her ears began to ring and blood, hot and sticky, began to flow freely from the wound opened by the weapon, already collecting at the base of her chin and dripping to the ground.

She had dropped her gun as she fell and it had skittered away, out of reach. She cast around hurriedly for the weapon, trying to combat the nausea brought on by being struck in the head.

"Idiot human," her attacker sneered. The voice was batarian. Sara felt a chill of terror crawl the length of her spine.

There. A flash of white in the darkness. The Phalanx. She could throw herself forwards and snatch it up, and-

"Kill it," a turian voice commanded. She heard the sharp double click of a shotgun being pumped and looked up to see five pirates surrounding her. Panic numbed her as she realized she would die here, kneeling in the dust between two trailers as she tried to play the hero and failed miserably.

And that was when the shadow peeled away from the darkness gathered behind a trailer and struck. Sara thought she was seeing things at first.

The batarian went down first as an omni-blade punched through his back and exploded from the centre of his chest, burning a fiery orange amongst the matte-black of his armour. He stared down at the blade, eyes open wide with shock. A ripple of purple slammed into the turian and threw him impossibly high into the air. Sara's saviour wrenched the omni-blade free of the batarian, who dropped to the ground with a gurgle, to draw a pistol and fire three shots into the air in quick succession. The turian was dead before he hit the ground with a painful crunch.

The remaining three levelled their guns at their attacker only to be driven back by a powerful biotic throw before they could fire and were finished off with the rest of the rounds in the pistol.

The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.

Sara stared up at the woman that had rescued her in stunned silence. The stormy grey eyes and long black hair shaved at the sides were easily recognisable. Theron Wylde, the one in charge of the mercenaries. Sara had originally thought she looked unprofessional with the black glyphs tattooed from shoulder to wrist down her right arm and over the fingers of both hands. That, and the attitude problem and blatant disregard to protocol. But damn did she know how to fight… She realized now, the reason the Alliance had agreed to hire her.

"You okay?" Theron asked, her accent English unlike the majority of Alliance humans Sara served with. She reached down a strong hand and easily hauled Sara to her feet. Theron stood several inches taller than her, hair tied into a thick ponytail that fell well passed her shoulders.

Sara opened her mouth to answer, but found no words. She simply blinked at her, still processing. Theron bent down and scooped up the dropped pistol, holding it out to Sara by the barrel. Sara mutely wrapped her fingers around the grip, staring down at the weapon.

"Never seen anyone take on pirates in their PJs before…" She commented as she looked Sara up and down with a grin, taking in the black and red checked pyjamas, the trousers of which were stuffed hastily into heavy duty boots.

"That was-where did you even come from?!" Sara demanded breathlessly, finally succeeding in finding her voice. She hadn't heard anyone following her, hadn't even seen Theron until she killed the batarian.

Theron smirked at her, spread her arms wide as one eyebrow twitched upwards. "Hey, they don't call me Ghost for nothin'."