"Guess I need to work on my timing," Kaidan says with an amused snort. His expression returns to looking fixed as taking a breath on the heels of it reveals new and terrifying perfumes from the pile, where his pitchfork has just uncovered a mummified rodent whose tunnelling skills were not, it appears, up to par. He nods brief thanks at the sight of Wash and his own pitchfork, and returns to the slow routine of filling the cart.

"What the hell the Cetagandans are doing, for one," he opens with. "Yeah, Zahal's running a small base on the frontier, but they seem to be ignoring the non-combat locals as much as they ignore their own non-aristocracy. While running a bse with a big research lab tacked on to it. Are they? Or have there been disappearances?"