Amongst the Stars
"For there is a place
Where nothing grows,
The land is dry,
And where hearts froze."
She wanted to die…but dying was for the weak. If you died for honor however, now that was a whole other thing. If you died defending your clan's title or even if you just plain croaked in a battle for your territory; that was acceptable.
Actually it didn't even have to be that complicated. You could die in a fight that had no logical reason what so ever and still die with some dignity. No one would pity you then. Or ignore you. Even worst of all, forget you.
But Reela was just about to have enough. Enough of everything. Enough of how her world had fallen so far. Of how Tuchanka was nothing but ruins, a land of dust and desperation. The krogan were nothing but primitive pyjak's, scavenging for food in a world they foolishly wasted.
"You can taste it in the air," her sister had once said. And you did. It was a cloying, gut-gripping, and miserable scent. It was why Reela never breathed in too deeply.
It was the smell of death.
Death is a close neighbor to everyone here, Reela thought bitterly. On Tuchanka it was just easier to fight or die. For the krogan it was second nature for them to fight. To fight was the very core of an exemplary krogan. The males reveled in it, longed for it, and paid a price for it.
But dying, anyone could do that. It happened all too frequently.
But what about the females? They fought too. Everyday. Perhaps even more so then the men. But they had no physical enemy. There was no tangible foe that would wrap his hands around their throats and slowly drain the life from them. Or bash their heads in till they resembled a pyjak's backside.
Our enemy is our reflection, Reela thought. What we saw in each other's eyes day in and day out. What we have become and what we would never be again. We are barren. Lifeless. Empty in more ways then just our wombs.
Reela bent down and picked up a handful of Tuchanka's dusty earth. She watched as the crimson grains slowly diminished between her fingers and disappeared back into millions of other unidentifiable grains littering the surface.
She let out a sigh as she wiped her rough hand against her leg. "I'm sick of this life. There is nothing. We've become nothing."
"That's not true, young one," replied a voice from behind Reela. When she turned around she couldn't help but grimace as it was the elder of her clan who had spoken. "There is good in this life. We have hope. A hope that things will change."
Reela gave a disbelieving snort. The elder was ignorant; she didn't bear the burden that so many young krogan women were now sinking under. She didn't know what it was like to have a life inside of you that would never give a single breath in the world. She just couldn't understand. That simple life had been long since lost.
Reela couldn't even imagine what life was like before the genophage. Did Tuchanka once teem with vibrant, rich, and nameless colours that Reela had long forgotten? Did hundreds of little krogan children run about? Learning of a not yet lost tradition and their ancestors? Did they learn about how the krogan were a great and powerful race who defeated the Rachni, ended a war, and became heroes?
Knowing nothing of how they squandered and abused that privilege.
"You don't understand. No one cares about the krogan anymore. We've been left to dwindle, left to fade in the midst of the countless of other stars in the universe." Reela was saying only what she felt was true. She knew the consequences of disrespecting the elders. They carried hundreds, if not thousands of years of wisdom within their lifespan.
Yet Reela was positive this one was exceptionally old and naïve. Too stuck in the ways things used to be. When everything had a happy ending.
But this was reality now. A reality where krogan women did not stand beside their male counterparts. Not anymore. They were isolated into a few clans and separated from the males. They lived with one purpose: to breed.
And the males believed this kept them 'protected.' Protected from what? The damage was already done.
Reela should count herself lucky she supposed, being fertile was no victory. You only became a prize to be bartered and fought over. It had happened to her mother.
And it was what killed her.
"Ah, but stars burn the brightest near their end. Do not worry child. Someone will notice long before we disappear." The elder krogan was looking at Reela expectantly with misty, aged brown eyes.
Reela had to stifle a bitter laugh; did she really believe someone would just come along and end the genophage? Squeezing her hands into fists, she resisted the urge to punch something. Anything.
"Damn the salarians for creating the genophage. Damn the turians for unleashing it. And damn the asari for doing nothing at all." They could keep their cowardice. Only vermin would do something as desperate as sneaking around the battlefield, she thought. Hiding in the shadows and only appearing when victory sought a master.
The elder krogan, back arched and hump wrinkled with time, simply watched Reela. She surveyed the hate she saw in her, in so many of the krogan. It was nothing new.
"Calm yourself Reela. What has been done is done."
Reela couldn't help but let out a growl of frustration at the elder's words. She had lost her ninth child not even two moons ago. She had seen the hope in the clan's eyes be replaced by pity and disappointment.
Reela had long ago given up any sort of attachment to the children she lost. It was that way for many krogan women; it was the only way they survived the pain. It was always hard the first time but after the third or fourth attempt you just didn't care anymore…at least on the outside.
Reela had watched it happen in her older sister. The resignation to her sad fate after she had lost her fifth child. She was going on twenty-six now.
"Things need to change. We need to change," Reela said, kicking a small stone away from a pile of others near her feet. "The males only bicker and fight about how things used to be and how to seek revenge. Either that or they leave and bicker and fight somewhere else entirely. But they don't understand things can never be that way again, revenge won't fix anything. We need a cure not more fighting. Senseless blood is being spilt for no reason other than thick-headedness."
The elder gave a small chuckle, "Krogan men will always butt heads. That is why they need to be thick."
Reela turned away from where the elder was standing so she would not catch her rolling her eyes. "The men could stand to loose a quad or two if it meant they could reason rationally."
But 'rational' never complemented the krogan well.
The elder's response was simply another airy laugh. Reela sighed, as she realized the elder wasn't going to leave her any time soon. This particular elder, whose name she had forgotten, had a way of finding her when she wanted to mope. And today was no exception.
"Child, look at me and wipe that scaly frown off your face."
Ah, Reela thought as she turned to look back at the elder, looks like males aren't the only ones who like to butt in.
"Even in times as dire as ours, you must not lose hope. All it takes is one glimmer of life to keep defeat at bay. One falling star, shooting across the sky, to be noticed amongst the rest."
Reela looked at the elder, weighing the words she spoke. She did not know what to think anymore. She had fallen so far she didn't think she could ever reach the sky again. She was trapped in this so-called "life." As trapped as anyone was in the jaws of a thresher maw. There was no point in struggling to be free of it.
Yet there was still something about the elder's eyes that caught hers. They suddenly seemed clearer: a deeper, darker brown. Like fresh soil. And Reela couldn't help but notice she saw her reflection in the elder's eyes.
But it was a reflection she was unfamiliar with.
It was not the reflection she saw in so many other krogan's eyes. It was not what she saw in her sister's eyes. Or in the krogan men's who could only shake their heads when she failed, yet again, to give them a living child.
She saw her own solid green eyes looking back a her. Like a tiny newborn plant sprouting through ages of dirt, she saw life. A small spark buried deep beneath her tough hide in place she hadn't dared to ever touch.
She thought maybe…just maybe…it wasn't too late after all.
Today was not the day she would wonder out into Tuchanka's deadly wasteland, like so many other females before her did, hoping for a quick death.
"We need to do something," Reela said. "We need a savior."
And as she glanced back over the dust filled camp, past the worn out shelters and fallen rubble, that served as only remnants of Tuchanka's nuclear history. Past the bodies of women who had long since given up. Just as she desperately wanted to, barely a few moments ago. Reela of clan Urdnot watched the sunrise.
It rose glowing a bright and vibrant red in the distance, reflecting off the sand like a sea of stars, and lighting up her world.
"Hope," Reela felt the word escape her mouth as if it was as natural as breathing and a smile touched her lips. It wouldn't hurt to try, she thought.
"That's right, young one," the elder said, her own lips curving upward as she watched Reela. "As long as the sun still rises and sets, it is never too late. We can hope that one day there will be a shepherd to guide us back amongst the stars."
And Reela couldn't help but agree.