CHAPTER TWO - SCAR TISSUE
"i'll make it to the moon
if I have to crawl."
her name was-
a thousand tiny components gleamed and glinted on the work table under the weak red emergency lights.
the ship was running low on power again. they would have to stop for fuel soon. neither of them particularly liked these delays. they should be at the citadel by now.
steadily the girl worked at these pieces, her fingers a tempest as she fitted wire and pins and circuits. this, too, should be done by now, if it weren't for the constant distractions.
her name was-
suddenly, the drell woman leapt from the shadows, tackling the girl to the ground. she liked surprises.
distractions.
one part game, the other preparation.
they tumbled and fought, half-hearted pins, pulled punches.
her bare shoulders icing against the cold floor, the girl would ask how many days.
three years, seven months, eight days.
then she would go after the girl in earnest and the true training would begin.
her name was Karliah.
Karliah
Karliah
"KARLIAH."
She was suddenly wheeled out of the memory with a gasp, her panicking heart racing miles a minute.
Where was she? C-Sec. Morning roll call. She gave her silent thanks that Lt. Irrian had yet to appear.
Shaking, she pressed at a button on her earpiece, the ancient words reciting for her.
En tean'ness ga
Perku shae et'fa
Darkun lan gess ene
Hansa tra'na
Tae'lan'se es na.
These verses, written in a long-forgotten language, were sometimes the only thing that could bring her back to reality.
These days, however, it seemed as if her conditioning wore thinner and thinner, as fragile as the line between real and not.
"Alright, break it up!" Karliah called, pushing between a pair of subharmonically growling turians, their mandibles flaring.
When one, a cream-colored bareface, shoved the other, she gave him a good push against the alleyway wall, knocking him where he'd taken a bad hit.
Be quick the old mantra played in her mind. Be clean.
"What did I say? Now look at me," she ordered, "What am I?"
The turian rolled his eyes, "Some sorta freaky lizard bitch."
"I'm drell, and drell don't forget one damn thing, not ever. I'll remember your face, and if you make trouble for me again, you'll regret it. Got it?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Get out of my sight."
Only when both turians had left did Karliah take a second for herself, rubbing at an eye that was slowly beginning to swell as she propped herself against the corner.
The Shalta arm was passing through a particularly thick cloud of the nebula tonight, the violet fog capturing the streetlight like the inside of a frosted-glass lantern. It was almost as blindingly bright as the perpetual day of the Presidium or the sunshine of a desert planet she once knew. Karliah half-considered whistling into the mist to see how the sound carried.
"Mrs. Drell Lady!" a tiny, warbling voice called out.
A turian boy with a silver, barefaced carapace raced down the sidewalk, his dark eyes seemed wide and terrified.
"You have to help! I think she's hurt!" he cried.
Sensing danger, Karliah broke into a jog, following him.
The small hanar lay on the grimy metal surface of the aerobus shelter bench, her tiny tentacles curled up tightly against her body which flashed wildly with fear colors.
"Sweet one?" Karliah calmly asked, dropping to a knee, "This one is a friend. Is this one hurt?"
The hanar trembled as it struggled to right itself. "I'm lost. There were bright lights, white, big cars. Then dark and the noise."
I? This hanar had to be very young, practically an infant, she had yet to understand her own people's choice of pronouns. It always confused and astounded the other species how quickly the hanar were able to pick up on speech, the culture and understanding always seemed to come later.
"Sweet one, this one is a friend of the hanar. This one can help you find your way back to your family." Karliah turned to the young turian, "Do you know what happened?"
He shook his head, "I just found her like this."
Gently, she scooped up the baby hanar and gave it a tight squeeze, its trembling shudders beginning to subside.
"I promise you're not in trouble, but they're gonna have to ask you a few questions at the station. Come with me?"
"If I have to."
"What's your name, by the way?" Karliah asked as they walked.
The small turian shook his head, "I'm not supposed to talk to C-Sec."
"You know they're going to ask you the same questions at the station. Up to you."
"It's Sidonis, okay?" he cried disdainfully, "Lantar Sidonis. I'm gonna turn 11 in a week, and I live down the street. Want anything else, princess?"
"Hey," she reached out and gave Sidonis a hard push against the building. She'd been doing a lot of shoving today. "No need to be like that. You did the right thing by calling me over, but don't mess it up by being an ass about it."
For all his attitude, Karliah felt no remorse turning the kid over to a pair of desk officers and telling them she got no answers out of him.
Unfortunately, this also confined her to desk duty herself; the sergeant leading the turian boy away shrugged, figuring she had more than enough paperwork to take care of, and he was right.
But being a patrolman meant she didn't have a desk of her own, instead she found herself at Haewall Zuzena's desk, staring at a rubik's cube - salarians were fascinated with these - and a constellation of photos taped to the holo-screen. A pair of identical blue-skinned girls and their mother grinned, a cerulean trio of joy. Even without her perfect memory, Karliah was sure she would remember Alkaid and Adalee, the twins, considering how much Hae mentioned them.
Three case reports later, the sergeant returned with a hesitant rap on the cubicle wall to try and get her attention.
"Yes?" she asked, silencing the continuous drone of her earpiece.
"We've got a transport for the Presidium ready, you're taking the hanar in to the Embassy."
She willed herself not to leap out of her seat in surprise and shock. The Embassy? The Hanar Embassy? No, no this could not be happening.
"Why?" she asked, her voice fighting to remain calm, "Shouldn't some official brass be on it?"
He shrugged, "You're the only one who's dealt with these jellyfish. Irrian's orders."
Damn that Lieutenant.
"Alright, alright. I'll get on it."
With a sigh, she yawned, stretched, and let off a long sigh before making her way to the lobby. The baby hanar was curled up on one of the molded plastic seats, a ratty blanket- undoubtedly from the trunk of an old patrol car- tossed over its shoulders.
"Come, young one," Karliah ordered, and gratefully, it followed.
Silence fell on the trip to the Presidium, Karliah was in no mood to talk, she couldn't talk. Instead, she stuck a thumb to the central button of her earpiece, turning on the sound once again.
"This one's face name is Sylvi!" the little hanar chirped.
The drell rolled her eyes, "That's nice," she replied, turning up the volume, not caring if it heard.
Finally, they found parking and not too far from the Embassy either. They were welcomed in warmly, as warmly as their species could manage under the surface of politeness and ritual decorum. Even without the ultra-violet sight some drell attained, it was clear that both parents were worried, worried and grateful to have their child back safely. Karliah merely bowed and told them it was her duty and nothing more.
"So knowledgeable of our ways, so polite, there is no way this one was not Compact-trained, if it is correct."
Karliah's breath caught in her throat. It could be all over, right now. "This one is not wrong, it is indeed from the Compact, from long, long ago."
"Such an accent!" the second hanar added, "The drell do not speak this way on Kahje."
She bowed again, "May the knowledge please you that it was brought up on Rakhana before travelling to Kahje to be trained."
"Allow it to thank this one, will you not stay for dinner and a cup of tea?" the first asked, its bioluminescence glowing cheerily.
Karliah wondered if her stomach would start growling comically at that very second. She was hungry, but something else paralyzed her, prevented her answer.
"Is this one alright?"
"My- my apologies," she stammered, "But it is still on duty, unfortunately."
"Of course, this one understands. Its thanks go with you, drell."
"And this one is humbled to be in its service."