"May you die alone and silent."
It was a common curse among her people; people bound by blood and brood banks, tethered by telepathy. For such people it was the worst fate imaginable. But Cally had discovered there was something worse.
To live alone and silent.
To roam the empty plains of a planet, the only company poisoned corpses or the hated Federation in their nexus of communication. She resented them, their ability to reach out and connect, mute as she was in exile and isolation. Resentment that had built until she was filled with the urge to burn and burn, to destroy until all was destroyed, to die – silent but with companions in death.
She'd cursed him, but Blake had offered a hint of redemption. And later, as the relay station lay in ruins, there was another offer.
"Do you wish to return to Auron?"
Yes! Yes, she did, but she was cast out, had failed...
"Then stay with us."
And she clutched at this chance of a half- life; the semi-connection with the crew a less frightening prospect than a return to alienation. It had almost been enough; the mutual need for survival and Blake's fervour creating bonds.
Almost enough.
The depth, knowing another in totality, made her ache with its absence, leaving her vulnerable to those who could offer that potential. Loss after loss turned flames of fight to embers of empathy, until at last all remained were the ashes of what could have been.
When she died, her silent scream was a last desperate attempt at connection.
"Blake!"