Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect.
I'd like to thank MyFix for her help with this chapter. :)
And thank you to everyone who's stuck with me. This one's for you.
Scene Nine
Not Too Late
TO: Kolyat Krios
FROM: Mikel Kushnir
SUBJECT: Keep In Touch
I know we havnt talked much after what happened with your last job. Im still selling VIs and hoping to save up sum creds to go to earth. Get away from people like Kelham. Never been there but Ive heard stories. Maybe your father can tell you about it, I talkd to him about it a few times.
Any way maybe we can talk or hang out while your here? Feel like Ive known you most of my life even if we never met. Krios always did right by me so Ill return the favor even if it didnt work out last time.
- Mouse
Kolyat Krios didn't like heights.
When the parole attendant in charge of assigning his next round of duties asked whether there were any "irrational fears" that she should know about, Kolyat had twitched his shoulders in what passed as a shrug and said that working the catwalks was fine by him, as long as it helped pay off his debt to society. (The last part was said with a sneer, but to the drell's credit, it was less of a sneer than he would have given a few months ago. Or maybe not; a few months ago he might have said nothing and not looked at her at all.)
And it was true. Heights didn't scare him, they just made him uncomfortable. It was a feeling he got used to after his third round of doing service work on them. They were certainly different than working in the warehouses or at the docks, because while the lively beat of the Wards went on below his feet, he still couldn't escape it. He was the unseen, but he saw everything.
The mid-district had a lot of clubs and restaurants, so most of the chatter that drifted up to his earbuds was comprised of music and the soft whisper of his translator, which he was required to leave on at all times. What made the catwalks special, however, was that they were one of the highest places still subjected to gravity in the Wards (relative to the station's superstructure.) A livable atmosphere was only maintained to seven meters or so, and it was unsettling to find oneself standing over the heads of people without the aid of a skycar.
It might have been an enlightening experience, save for three things. One, he was on the catwalks to clean them. They were a restricted area reserved for maintenance workers, stock boys and Keepers, so of course people liked storing things like drugs, bodies and questionable pornographic material there. Luckily, Kolyat had only found one bag of red sand, zero dead bodies, and one flatbed truckload of porn... so far.
Two, the catwalks belonged to the Keepers. Sure, they weren't dangerous, but that didn't mean shit when they still managed to be creepy as hell. It was hard to be at peace when a giant green thing was staring at you from across the room.
And three... Ah, yes. The third reason Kolyat's service work on the catwalks was less than ideal was because somehow, at some point (during his second visit, if he were to get specific) he seemed to have made a friend.
"Are you a terminator?"
Kolyat's secondary eyelids flickered. "No."
"Do you eat rats?"
"No."
"Do the Keepers eat rats?"
"N- how should I know?"
Kolyat's pursuer fell silent. The drell sighed and hoped the conversation had ended, though he could still hear the sound of tiny feet shadowing his own. Kolyat took a right along the catwalk and checked his omni-tool; a map of the building leapt to life above the back of his wrist, and the map itself was marked with small notations and arrows indicating which cleaning route he was responsible for. A small icon blinked in the corner of the hologram, and below it there streamed a constant update of local news updates, as well as his present coordinates. He was being monitored.
Kolyat flicked the omni-tool off and neared the end of another series of catwalks. He stopped in front of a door and made a log of his progress, including a small notation that he hadn't run into any pests or illegal trash dumps yet. He was glad he had the map; all the rooms and doors looked the same, and the walkways got confusing after a while. There were numerous lofts that connected the catwalks, most of which were used for storage, although a few paths were restricted for Keepers.
Kolyat reached for the door's holopad, but stopped short. "You're not supposed to be here," he said, and frowned at the curly-haired human child who blinked up at him.
The boy shrugged. "I'm a duct rat. Where else am I gonna be?"
It was a damn good question, and one Kolyat often asked himself. "Why do you keep following me?" he asked the boy instead.
By that time, the human had wandered over to the edge of the catwalk. The drell's muscles tensed involuntarily, but the boy stopped short of the ledge and leaned over just enough to get an idea of what was happening on the floor below. The orphan glanced back at him.
"You're interesting," was the answer.
Kolyat dropped his hand from the door's holopad and folded his arms. "Interesting?"
The duct rat wandered away from the edge and back toward him. "You're cool looking," he explained. "I like your jacket."
(She steps back, one fingertip tapping at her chin – blue eyes flicker up and down, alien, ringed in white and clear, pale skin - "Okay, try this, then: Your outfit looks... nice. And your jacket is... very supportive.")
Kolyat reached up to touch the cold, metal teeth that anchored his leather jumpsuit together. Of all the things to be complimented on... "Uh. Thanks," he heard himself mumble. The tips of his frill bloomed a faint violet. It was easy to feel self-conscious about the community service name-tag pinned beneath his collar, but the gods knew it was better than that vest he'd been forced to wear not long ago.
"Do all drills have jackets like yours?"
There was the soft chime of a holopad flashing green when Kolyat keyed the door open. "It's drell."
"Do all drells have jackets like yours?"
"Drell." Kolyat went to step inside but had to double-check his feet when the little human ducked under his legs and slipped in before him. "And no," he finished, his voice warbling in irritation.
"Oh." The duct rat stopped in the middle of the supply room and spun on one heel. "Hey, I know this place! This is where they keep the stuff!"
The room itself was rather large, but one side was filled with stacks of unmarked crates and containers. There was a line of shelves on one of the walls, where a human dressed in maintenance fatigues stood poring over a number of shipping manifests. Said human whirled around at the sound of the door opening.
"Hey!" The man blurted. "What are you doing h-" He froze upon seeing Kolyat, though his gaze flicked continuously to the child that hovered around the drell's legs. "Huh. Uh... Col-yacht, right?"
Memories flashed behind Kolyat's eyes, each a vivid blur of contour and shape, before a visual match was made. He'd met this human once before on the catwalks – his name was Jim Reynolds; a stock boy who'd transferred from the 800-blocks some time ago.
"Yes."
The stock boy relaxed. "Inspection, right?"
Kolyat twitched his shoulders in an affirmative and flicked a nail at the edge of his name-tag.
"Sure, okay," the stock boy conceded. "I haven't seen anything, but you can go on through." Jim's brow furrowed when he looked back to duct rat that hovered about the drell's legs. "Is that kid with you?"
Kolyat wanted to say no – maybe he could pawn the kid off for some extra credits, or something morally questionable like that – but his mouth seemed to have other plans. "What does it matter?" he demanded, and ignored the way the scales on the back of his neck prickled protectively.
Jim held up his hands. "Look, I don't make the rules. This is a restricted area." He pointed the shipping manifest in his hand at the child in question. "Just take him with you when you leave, will you?"
Kolyat chuffed and continued through the supply room, leaving the stock boy to mumble to himself. The smaller boy followed the drell out the door and waited until they were back on the catwalks with the door closed behind them before he spoke.
"Next time we should tell him there's a bomb," he suggested. "I bet he'd run fast."
Kolyat finished adding another notation to his report and perked a brow ridge against the orange glow of his omni-tool. "Why would you do that?"
The boy shrugged. "It'd be funny."
Kolyat de-activated his omni-tool and continued walking. The orphan shadowed his every stride, and once or twice the drell thought he felt the human's tiny hand ghost against the leather of his legs. Kolyat said nothing, deciding that the nuisance would go away if he pretended that it didn't exist. Gods above, what had he done to deserve this?
("Help me, drell," the shaking turian pleads – blue light frames a pale form, pale walls – the gun is heavy in his hand, and he trembles, thumbing the trigger – a new figure strides forward, familiar, green-on-black-on-brown – "I'll do whatever you want!")
Nausea swam through Kolyat's gut, so sudden and acute that he almost stopped walking so that he could catch his breath. Color swam in front of his eyes as memory and reality overlapped, and when he felt cold alloy at his palm he jerked his hand back, half expecting it to be a gun, only to realize that he'd been gripping the catwalk's railing.
("C-sec. Put the gun down, s-")
"- you okay?"
Kolyat pressed the pads of his fingers into his temple and exhaled once. He then nictated three times before removing his hand, and the world was solid again, complete with the muffled thrum of faraway dance beats, the faint glimmering of light from numerous ads and banners, and the single orphan child who looked up at him with wide-eyed concern.
"I'm fine," he snapped. The nausea vanished, and he kept walking. Fortunately, the boy didn't appear phased by the rebuttal, and continued trailing after the much larger and older drell as though nothing had happened.
"Do drills do that a lot?" the duct rat ventured after a few heartbeats of silence.
"Drell."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Are you going to be sick?"
"Don't you have something else to do?" Kolyat didn't think he sounded angry, but when the sound of the child's steps came to a halt, he stopped and turned around. The human didn't appear concerned with him, however; the boy made a gesture with one dirt-smudged hand and took a left at the next junction, toward what looked to be a corner near one of the Keeper's maintenance terminals. When Kolyat didn't move to follow, the boy turned around and made a frustrated noise.
"Come on, Kiosk! I gotta show you something."
"It's Krios." Kolyat made to step forward but brought himself up short. "If this is a joke..."
The boy shook his head. "Not a joke." Maybe it was the limited overhead lighting, but the child looked unusually solemn for someone so young, or so alien. Kolyat resisted the urge to knead the pads of his fingers against his nose and made his way to the other side of the catwalk where the duct rat now stood.
The boy moved aside once Kolyat had come to stand beside him. "This is for Keepers," the larger drell said when he noticed the terminal that jutted out of the wall. With that thought, the drell glanced over both shoulders; he would be lying if he said that the Citadel's insectoid guardians didn't creep him the hell out, and if one of them started scuttling its way toward them, he was going to bail back across the catwalk – or, failing that, jump over the edge and hope he didn't break his neck on the floor below.
"That's not it," the human said. He moved aside an old storage container and pointed behind it. "This."
The first thing Kolyat saw was what looked to be a ventilation shaft. It was covered in a thin alloy grating, which proved to be more than insufficient when the human child wiggled it loose with a few expert tugs of his arms. The drell frowned and eased his weight down onto his knees, deciding that squatting was better than hovering.
"Why are you showing me this?" he asked the human, only to blink both eyelids when the boy crawled forward and disappeared inside the shaft. Kolyat rocked back on his heels and reached out to steady himself by resting one hand on the empty storage container. It was dark inside the tunnel, which looked to be all gray metal and echoes. The human had to be crazy if he thought Kolyat was going to crawl in after him – just looking at the size of the opening made the drell's shoulders hurt.
Fortunately, it appeared that the boy didn't think that. There was the sound of hands and knees knocking against metal followed by an exchange of voices. The echo of the shaft infused Kolyat's translator with a haze of garbled nonsense, but the flanging speech of a turian was hard to mistake. Kolyat cocked his head and pulled himself up to stand when the clanging of limbs grew closer and the boy crawled back out of the shaft.
"Well?" Kolyat asked. The human brushed polymer dust from the scabs of his knees and looked up at the drell.
"There's a place where the tunnels are broke," the boy said. He pointed back at the shaft. "Solana says it's gonna fall out any time now."
Kolyat was about to ask who Solana was, but another glance at the shaft revealed the small, angular face of a young turian female. She cocked her head at Kolyat and fluttered her mandibles before ducking back inside. Kolyat nictated and rubbed at one of his biceps. How many duct rats were there?
"Why are you telling me this?" he wondered aloud.
"That's what you do, isn't it?" the boy pressed. "Clean and fix things?"
Anger – brief, but hot – flared in Kolyat's chest. "Not for you."
Some things defy species barriers, and the look of undisguised hurt that flashed across the duct rat's face was one of them. The ash of Kolyat's anger was replaced with shame, and the drell cleared his throat, continuing, "I'll... mention it." He nudged the container with the toe of his boot. "Why hasn't anyone looked at this? You'd think someone would care."
It was the human's turn to look ashamed. "It's our tunnels. We don't like people messing with them. But that's not it." The boy pointed at the wall terminal just behind Kolyat. "Adults don't like coming around here 'cause of the Keepers. They don't get near the computers. They think the Keepers use these holes, but they don't. They can't fit."
Kolyat gave the crate another nudge with his boot and felt his brow ridges furrow. "You hide the opening, too."
The boy shrugged and avoided eye contact. The orphan's hands worried together in a gesture that reminded Kolyat of Mouse. "These are our tunnels," the boy mumbled. "Me and Solana."
"Your friend," Kolyat said, and looked to where the turian had vanished.
"My friend Jared disappeared last month," the boy blurted. "The Keepers ate him."
The monitoring device installed in Kolyat's omni-tool buzzed against the scales of his wrist. Kolyat curled his lip and gave the tool an irritated flick of his arm as the orange holo leapt to life. He worked on updating his status and replied, "Keepers don't eat people." Well, that he knew of. Did they even have mouths? Gods, what creepy sons-of-bitches...
"We think he fell into the vats. The big protein vats. We haven't seen him." The boy pried his hands apart and tugged at the bottom of his shirt. "We have to climb out over them to get around the broken place. I don't want to fall."
Kolyat finished his update and deactivated the omni-tool. The boy was clearly distressed, and Kolyat experienced a pang of sympathy the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'll tell someone about it," he assured in the most soothing voice he could muster. It wasn't much considering his natural rasp. "They'll send someone to fix it. But they might seal things up. You won't be able to use this tunnel any more."
The boy's expression brightened. "There are other ways."
It was in that moment that Kolyat understood just why his father had used the orphans for his killing. The duct rats were true drala'fa, and even Kolyat had trouble comprehending the ease in which the boy crept on his hands and knees back into the ventilation system that only a handful of people knew existed.
"I've got to go," the human explained. He reached for the detached grating and dragged it toward him. "Can you move the box back?"
Kolyat shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Uh, sure." He grabbed the top of the container and slid it back in front of the opening as the boy shimmied backwards and pulled the grating up.
"Solana likes you," the boy added. His already tinny voice was muffled by the surrounding walls as the ventilation cover clicked back into place. "She says if the human ever dumps you, that she'll be your wife, like on Fleet and Flotilla."
"Wait, what?" Kolyat shoved the container aside just enough so that he could see into the tunnel. The boy's grubby features peered back at him from the shadows. The drell could have sworn the human was grinning.
"My name's Din-Din."
"I didn't ask for your name! What does she mean, about the human -"
Kolyat stopped short when he realized that the duct rat had disappeared. There was a soft clank of limbs on alloy before the world fell silent, save for the ambient pulse of the Wards that still thrummed from the hub beneath the catwalk. Kolyat nictated his inner eyelids and allowed himself an annoyed chest rumble before he slid the container back in front of the ventilation shaft. And just like that, he was alone again.
His father really had been a clever bastard. These drala'fa knew more than what was good for them, and while Kolyat wasn't sure what "dumping" meant (his translator offered a variety of explanations, each more disturbing than the last,) it still made his throat feel hot. Perhaps it was the fact that his thoughts turned to one human in particular – out of the many he was forced to interact with – that embarrassed Kolyat more than anything.
Right. He still had a job to do. Kolyat turned and -
Goddess of oceans, the afterlife and holy shit!
The soulless black eyes that stared back at him were unfazed by the expletives. Then again, Keepers weren't phased by much of anything, and the segmented face that filled Kolyat's vision swerved back and forth as the drell stumbled out of the Keeper's way. The giant insect shuffled forward as Kolyat sucked in his stomach and leaned as far back against the railing as possible, and once it had passed, the drell pulled up his collar with an embarrassed mumble and continued on his way.
The rest of his shift passed in a silence that was only broken by the occasional buzz of his omni-tool. Once Kolyat had finished his round, he returned to the hub below and met with his parole attendant, who looked over his reports with a nod before deactivating the monitoring devices installed in his tech. He was free to go, at least for a little while. Kolyat's legs were starting to hurt from the constant walking, so it was with no small amount of relief that he hopped on the first transit shuttle he could get his hands on. The cab slid closed overhead and the shuttle lifted off, leaving Kolyat with nothing to do engage the auto-pilot. Unlike certain individuals, he had no issue with motion sickness, and found the entire experience to be relaxing.
He had just stretched out his legs when his omni-tool chimed.
Speaking of certain individuals...
The drell rolled the omni-tool disc around in the palm of his hand and perked a brow ridge; there were only so many people who'd be trying to reach him like this, and only two of them would do so when he was on the way to his apartment for a much-needed nap. Horrible timing seemed to be a prevalent theme in his life.
Kolyat didn't want to answer it, but it came as no surprise when he did. He sat up in his seat and rerouted the incoming message from his omni-tool to a personal correspondence device that he kept attached to his collar in the absence of a belt. The omni-tool stopped chiming and stillness returned to the shuttle. Kolyat flipped his communicator open with an uncertain pull to his lips, ignoring the glittering gray Zakera Ward skyscrapers that flashed past the shuttle's tinted windows.
CONTACT (OrianaS) HAS REQUESTED A CHAT. INITIATE?
He should have known. And while he'd been enjoying the relative quiet of the shuttle, the blinking script on the screen of his communicator felt suddenly welcome. Kolyat leveled an ankle against the top of his knee and began to type.
KK: [LOGIN][ONLINE]
OR: [ONLINE]
OR: Hi!
KK: hello.
OR: I'm surprised you answered. I thought you were working.
KK: just got off.
OR: Oh... uh. Got off... Right.
KK: what?
OR: Nothing. Translator error. You OK?
KK: yes. heading back.
OR: Are you free? I was wondering if you wanted to eat somewhere.
KK: where?
OR: At Ohera's Bar and Grill, 16th floor. Ever been?
KK: no.
OR: Me neither, but I got invited.
KK: by who?
OR: School friends. Figured I needed to hang out with them, since we share a few classes.
Kolyat felt his jaw tighten. Oriana must have sensed his uncertainty through his lack of response.
OR: It's for fun. We just got through with a test so people are celebrating.
KK: did you do well?
OR: I always do. Er, most of the time.
KK: i don't know.
OR: Pleez? You could meet some people. There are some things we need to talk about. Plus I haven't seen you in a few days.
KK: you do think about me.
OR: Sure. Do you think about me?
(She touches his hand, skin bare and feather light – their eyes meet, blue on black – )
KK: i can't forget you.
There was a pause.
OR: That would be sweet if it weren't so literal.
Kolyat felt the corner of his accented lips twitch upwards.
KK: i'm a drell.
OR: I noticed. The scales gave it away. So? Will you stop by?
KK: why can't we meet afterwards?
OR: Don't you want to make friends?
KK: no.
OR: OK, so I expected that. But everyone is going to be celebrating, no one's going to listen to us. We won't look suspicious. Besides, I know you better than most of the other people who'll be there.
Kolyat rolled the communicator between his hands and watched the faint glow from the screen highlight the lifelines that creased his scales. He didn't want to go, and he was tired of being coerced into doing things that he didn't want to do. And who were these friends, anyway? Most likely humans and asari; just more people who would stare at his reptilian features and presume to understand him. More people he could do without.
The screen lit up again.
OR: You remember the convo we had in the skycar?
Kolyat moved to respond with a no shit, but the text continued to scroll.
OR: You know how I said I got nervous around certain people? This is like that. There's someone... I just thought I'd invite you, and we could talk while we're there.
(Painted lips part in a small circle, flashing white teeth – a pale face flushed red – she shakes her head, looking away – "That's not it. I just don't know how to talk to guys. Some guys.")
The request was unusual, which was enough to make Kolyat reconsider. Hell, Oriana admitting she was anxious was a rarity in itself; the human was so damn composed that seeing her weak-kneed from something as simple as motion sickness had been startling enough. Not to mention that out of everyone on the Citadel, she missed him?
Kolyat scratched at the ribbing of his neck, but no matter how hard he scratched, he couldn't rid himself of the tickling sensation that spread throughout his throat. The shuttle felt very small in that moment, and he rearranged his legs, nearly whacking his knee against the dash.
Deep breaths, Krios, his mind cautioned. You don't owe her anything. You don't -
KK: i'll stop by.
OR: Thanks! I'm leaving now. I'll see you there.
Their conversation window dimmed. Kolyat pinched the plates of his brow together and sighed. He was going to regret this. He always did.
The Zakera Ward cityscape continued flashing by all around him. The drell reached over and made a quick course-adjusted on the navigation grid, and with a gentle hum, the transit peeled off its current course and made for the dock nearest to Ohera's Bar & Grill. Kolyat settled back into his seat and drummed the pads of his fingers against the top of his communicator, wondering why he felt so nervous. Gods damn it. Why couldn't he just say no? It'd been so easy a few months ago.
Glancing down, Kolyat noticed a new notification in his inbox. It was from Captain Bailey – unsurprising, since Kolyat usually met with the C-Sec officer after his longer shifts. Most of their discussions revolved around Kolyat's "current status" and what his prospects looked like. It was amazing how natural it felt now. Not long ago he would have never dreamed of leaving Kahje. Now he didn't blink twice (once for each eyelid) at the thought of meeting with a veteran security officer in the belly of the Wards.
But it could have been worse. Kolyat didn't know how things would have turned out if he'd succeeded in killing Talid, but the very idea unsettled him to his core. The memories threatened to come flooding back, but Kolyat resisted, choosing instead to stare out the shuttlecar's window. He didn't have much, but it was something.
(– large eyes, grubby hands, a solemn face – the orphan looks away, his bare feet black – "These are our tunnels. Me and Solana.")
Kolyat flipped the communicator closed.
("Kolyat. I've taken many bad things out of the world. You're the only-")
He shoved the memories away and focused on the building that grew larger in the distance. Kolyat didn't want to think. So why had he agreed to go along with Oriana's request? He didn't know. And Kolyat decided he didn't want to think about that, either.
Ohera's Bar and Grill was grittier than most other Zakera restaurants, and segmented by booths and tables full of laughing civilians who were waited on by brown-eyed asari waitresses. There was a bar that was constantly full of drinks, plates and clatter; overhead, and next to every booth, were vidscreens streaming live feeds of various intergalactic sports events. The air itself was filled with old music and tinged with the scent of smoke. The Citadel was normally so sterile smelling, random greenery aside, and as the drell stood outside the bar's entrance, he understood why customers were drawn to Ohera's charm.
Of course, Kolyat had ample time to familiarize himself with the place, because he spent a long time trying to decide whether he wanted to go in or not. He watched a number of people come and go from his vantage point by the wall, where he leaned his back against the metal plating with his arms folded. It was amazing how people didn't seem to notice him, not that he wanted them to; there were times he was glad that he was teal-scaled and better able to blend into the Ward's shadows than other drell.
A motley assortment of humans entered the bar, each one jabbering loudly at the top of their lungs. Kolyat wasn't sure if any of them were friends of Oriana, and the more people he saw pass by, the less confident he felt. What was he doing here? He hadn't even seen Oriana yet. She was likely inside waiting for him, but humans had a tendency to forget things, didn't they? Maybe she'd forgotten about him and was enjoying her outing without him. Whatever news she had to share could wait til he'd had a nap. They could talk things over in his apartment. Or, knowing his luck, she'd want him to go over to her place just to see those stupid fish she'd bought...
Yes. She must have forgotten him. It was a reasonable thing to think, Kolyat decided. It was also a convenient excuse for him to leave, and one he took when he pushed himself from the wall and started to walk back to the nearest transit station, leaving the spicy scent of smoke behind.
"Kolyat!"
Oh, hell. Kolyat turned around in time to feel Oriana's hand light on his bicep in a way that was completely unnecessary.
"There you are," she said, pulling him toward the bar. "I thought you'd gotten lost or something."
"I don't -"
Oriana's grip on his arm tightened by a fraction. "Don't even."
The next thing Kolyat knew, he was inside the bar and standing in front of a corner booth surrounded by women. The situation was far from sexy, however – most of them were human women, with two or three asari thrown into the mix. Kolyat's mind spun as his brain attempted to imprint and catalog the vast assortment of new faces that greeted him as Oriana motioned for him to take a seat. The drell resisted, and Oriana was forced to shoot him a dirty look and slide onto the bench first. Kolyat chuffed and sat down beside her. It was then that he remembered his name-tag. He peeled it off his jacket and tucked it into his jumpsuit. Oriana noticed and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, Ori! Who's your friend?" one of the other females was asking. She leaned over the table and grinned at the drell, flashing all of her too-many teeth and winking her small, squinty eyes. Kolyat leaned back until he felt the tops of his head fins smack against the back of the booth. Gods above, if it wasn't a Keeper invading his personal space, it was a human.
"This is Kolyat," Oriana answered while shifting her elbows forward on the tabletop. "He works for C-Sec."
Kolyat shot Oriana a glare, but was ignored.
"Oh! That's cool." The unknown female looked at him. "You're a deputy?"
Kolyat cleared his throat and wondered how he could ever explain that no, he was actually an ex-hitman doing community work for C-Sec because he'd been caught holding a gun to someone's head.
"Hey, Krista, while you're up can you go get us a menu?" Oriana interrupted. "We've never been here before. I'm feeling a bit lost."
"Oh, sure. I'll be back."
The other human left. A few other classmates wandered up to introduce themselves, but soon became embroiled in conversation with each other, leaving Kolyat and Oriana alone. Much of the chatter was muffled where they were, and Kolyat took the opportunity to duck his head and hiss.
"They're going to think I'm an actual officer," he said.
Oriana shrugged her shoulders and lowered her voice to match his. "Close enough."
"Not close. Bailey's already bitched at me about taking advantage of the uniform -"
"At the Zakera Cafe?" Oriana was giving him that calculated look of hers. Kolyat frowned.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. If I'd known -"
"And I'm still not. So stop saying you're sorry."
Oriana mimicked his frown. "Fine."
"What did you want to talk about that was so important?"
Oriana took a deep breath and folded a napkin. When she exhaled, she glanced to him in a manner that was all business. "I got a message. From my sister."
The scales on the back of Kolyat's neck went cold. This was going to be one of those conversations.
(He glances from the omni-tool, watching her from the corner of his eye – her hand moves, pale fingers brushing strands of dark hair from her forehead - white splitting black – "It's like we don't exist," she says.)
"It was more of the same," Oriana continued, "but-"
She stopped mid-sentence and made a strangled noise. Kolyat sat up in alarm, but Oriana's hand darted out and gripped the pauldron on his left shoulder. The drell was left confused when she shimmied back in her seat and held him in place so that she could... hide?
"What are you doing?" Kolyat demanded. He reached up to take her hand but she'd already removed it. Oriana laughed nervously and grabbed the napkin, which she started to unfold, although she made no move to get out of his shadow.
"Sorry," she said. "I saw someone..."
Kolyat turned his finned head to look. Oriana made another sound and jostled his elbow, which led him to look back at her with an annoyed grunt.
"Stop looking," she pressed. "He'll think something's up."
"Who?"
Oriana stared openly at Kolyat for a number of seconds before she looked back to the napkin. "The person I mentioned -"
"Who?" Kolyat sat up straighter and pressed his palms against the edge of the table. "Has someone -"
"No!" Oriana pawed at the straps of Kolyat's jacket and yanked him back down into his seat. "No. Just... That's him," she whispered, pointing. Kolyat found himself looking at a group of human men in sports uniforms who were standing at the bar watching one of the live vidfeeds. His lip curled.
"I know him," Oriana explained. Her eyes were trained on the back of one of the taller, tan-skinned males. "His name is Danner. He was in one of my classes at my old school."
"He looks like a fash'ti."
Oriana jabbed Kolyat in the ribs. "He does not look like a shrimp!" she hissed.
"Why is he here?" The heat in her voice had pricked something raw inside of him, and Kolyat felt the skin of his scalp prickle.
"He's visiting. His parents own some restaurants here. He's friends with the Auxua sports team, so he got invited, too."
"And this matters how?"
"It doesn't!" In the midst of her frustration, Oriana's voice had thickened with an accent that Kolyat couldn't place. It made his translator lag, which only annoyed him further. "I just didn't want him to see me over here. It's... It's kind of embarrassing. But he hasn't said two words to me." She sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't have worried."
Kolyat studied the back of "Danner"'s uniform. He then looked at Oriana, who was attempting to salvage the crumpled remains of the napkin she'd been worrying with. He then looked at the table, and at last, at his own gloved hands. A cold feeling spread throughout his chest.
"I see," he muttered, his voice so low that it came out as more of a breath.
Oriana looked at him. No, not at Danner, but at him; the sight of her two alien eyes leveling with his own only made Kolyat feel colder. "Anyway," she continued, the red tint to her cheeks fading, "that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." She looked around, possibly for Krista, before leaning in. Her voice lowered. "My sister..."
"Is it?" Kolyat snapped. He'd have never been able to get away with so many interruptions back on Kahje, but lucky for him humans didn't hold the same values as hanar. He was lucky for so many things.
Or was he?
Oriana blinked. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but -"
But Kolyat was already standing. He brushed past "Krista," who had returned with a number of menus. The drell could hear the scraping of feet across flooring as he stalked past the blurred figures of other customers, including the sports team, who cheered at something on the screen when he walked by. Kolyat's fists twitched.
"Ori?" The voice of the other female drifted back from the corner booth, muffled by ambient music and clamor. "Where are you going? Why did he -"
The scent of smoke followed Kolyat out of the bar and back into the 16th floor lobby. Everything seemed to be moving, and he reached up to rub at his eyes, barely aware that he was cursing under his breath in his native tongue. He shoved past a trio of salarians and didn't even turn around when one of them said something. He just kept moving. And for the second time that day, the sound of footsteps followed him. He whirled around before Oriana could reach him, because it could have only been her.
It was. Oriana stopped in front of him. Her dark hair curled wildly at her temple and her lips were pressed in a thin line. She was angry. Well, good. So was he.
"Kolyat, what is your problem? Why did you just walk out like that?"
He scowled. "I wanted to."
"We can't talk out here."
"Why not?"
Oriana's eyes flashed. "This is kind of important."
"Why?" Kolyat's voice cracked. "Is there something else you need to use me for?"
"I... what? Kolyat, you're not making any sense."
Kolyat laughed. It was a grating sound, and he didn't miss the way Oriana's eyes widened when she heard it. "You're just like my father," he said. "You only want me around when it's convenient."
Oriana took a step back, and the muscles of her neck visibly tightened. At any other time Kolyat might have marveled at how beautiful that detail was – how pale, bare necks were strange, but attractive in their own way, even if they were different from the vibrant scales of drell. But he couldn't focus. He couldn't focus on anything.
"What?" Oriana breathed. "Is this about Danner?"
The heat in Kolyat's chest flared. "Why are you out here with a drell and not in there with your own kind? Why don't you leave?"
(His father leaves out the same door that he always does –)
Oriana raked both hands through her hair. The rose-colored gloss on her lips shone brightly in the lighting of the hub. "This is ridiculous," she said at last. Her fingers trembled in her hair – it was a slight movement, but easily noticed by drell eyes. "Kolyat, I got an e-mail from my sister."
"And?"
"And – do you really want to talk about this out here?" She ripped her hands from her hair and waved them around at the lobby.
"You wanted to talk about it in there?"
"Are you even listening? My sister said they're coming!"
Whatever train of thought Kolyat had been holding onto vanished. He uncurled his fists.
"Did you even know?" Oriana continued. She seemed to relax, although her shoulders remained tense, and her bare arms were white from strain. The salarians had disappeared inside the bar; for the moment, they were alone. "Because I didn't know if you did. You never tell me anything."
"So it's my fault," he sneered.
"I didn't say that. But you could be a little more open, you know." Oriana's face was grim. "Sometimes it feels like I don't even know you."
Kolyat had no answer for that. The burning in his chest had spread through every part of him and overwhelmed his senses, leaving them numb.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" Oriana said after a moment. "I know I'm not the most likely person in the world to be your friend, but I'm here."
"When?" Kolyat asked.
Disappointment clouded Oriana's eyes, but she shrugged. "Sis wasn't specific... a month, maybe? Maybe more?" Her face softened. "I guess you didn't know."
("I don't know," his mother answers, her tear-streaked frill pressed into his own.)
"And I hope you're happy," Oriana was saying. She fussed with the front of her jacket. Kolyat blinked the memory away. "I can't believe you had to throw a jealous fit over this. Now everyone's going to ask questions. What am I supposed to say?"
"I don't care." It hadn't been a jealous fit. It was more complex than that. She would never understand. Not even he understood.
"You obviously do if something that stupid was enough to set you off," Oriana replied. "You may not have to go to class with these people, but I do."
Kolyat's sneer returned. "Lucky me."
"Are you going to come back inside?"
He stared past her to the bar. "No."
"Great," Oriana said. She threw her hands up and made an exasperated noise. "I tried! Maybe I'll talk to you later, when you're not so... like this."
"Sure," Kolyat replied. The rasp of his voice dripped with sarcasm. "When it's convenient."
Oriana stared at him, her face white with anger. It was the last he saw of her before he turned and walked away, his thoughts as dark as his eyes.
Kolyat didn't go back to his apartment. He'd wasted enough time, and his head was filled with too much static for him to nap like he'd planned. He returned to the 27th floor C-Sec lobby instead, and once there, he turned in his second service report to the first officer he saw without a word. When that was done, he waited.
He still had to meet with Bailey.
It was hard to get the scent of Ohera's Bar and Grill out of his nose, and it wasn't long before Kolyat's stomach started to protest his missed lunch. The drell suffered through the hunger pangs at first, but when Haron threw an energy bar in his direction, Kolyat didn't argue. He ripped it open (after checking to make sure it wasn't dextro first) and worked out his frustrations by chewing as hard and as loud as he could. It took the edge off, and he commandeered one of the lobby seats to sit on while he waited.
Normally talking with Bailey was one of the last things Kolyat wanted to close his day with. But there was something about the Captain that granted... clarity. Maybe it was the older man's simple logic and unorthodox ways, but when Kolyat needed his ass kicked, Bailey had always been there, and the drell had often felt better for it afterward. It had worked on the shooting range. Maybe it would work now. He hadn't seen Bailey for days, anyway – something had happened, and Kolyat was curious.
("But you could be a little more open, you know. Sometimes it feels like I don't even know you.")
Kolyat took another bite out of energy bar and growled in his throat. His next bite was accompanied by a sour taste – his gums were starting to bleed.
("You know you can talk to me, right?")
How could he? He didn't know what to say! What could he say? He was supposed to start a new life on the Citadel, not revisit old wounds. He was beyond all that now. His father, his... his mother – everything.
Right?
("I know I'm not the most likely person in the world to be your friend, but I'm here.")
Kolyat tossed the empty wrapper into the nearest disposal unit and closed his eyes. Oriana's words pinged back and forth in his head until they were all he could think about. They stung, and for a reason.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know why Oriana considered him a friend. She'd used him, yes. But was that so bad? Weren't relationships about giving and taking? Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he had yet to give.
But did he want to? Wasn't he tired of being disappointed? Was someone like Oriana really going to stick around in his life? No one else had. These friends, this Danner had only made things clear: Oriana would always go back to her own kind.
("Solana likes you. She says if the human ever dumps you, that she'll be your wife, like on Fleet and Flotilla.")
"Krios?" A C-Sec officer stood in the doorway to the lobby's hall, where the private offices and interrogation rooms were kept. Kolyat looked up at the voice and felt suddenly tired. "Bailey's ready."
The first thing Kolyat noticed when he stepped into Captain Bailey's private office was how clean it was. There was no smell of coffee, no stray flecks of dust wafting in the air. The shelves on the back wall were almost empty, with only a few dimmed holos to give them a personal touch. In one corner there were boxes – compact storage containers, Kolyat realized, a trickle of anxiety creeping through him – and in the middle of the room sat Bailey's desk, strewn with numerous datapads, manifests, and... bandages.
Kolyat's gaze came to rest on the man himself. Bailey looked up and smiled his familiar thin smile when the door slid shut at Kolyat's back.
"Hey, son. How's work?"
For a split second, Kolyat said nothing. He was too shocked by the dark circles under Bailey's eyes, the scrapes, and the fact that one of the captain's arms hung in a sling. This was not the Bailey he had last seen.
"Infested with Keepers," the drell grumbled at last. He deigned not to sit in the chair Bailey offered him and instead stood off to the side with his arms crossed. It made him feel detached, which was just what he wanted.
"Catwalks, eh? Could be worse," the older man answered. "I saw that you filed a complaint. We'll send a team up to check it out." Bailey shuffled his lame arm onto the desk so that he could clasp his gnarled hands together. "You were... thorough."
"So? I did a good job."
"You did." Bailey unclasped his hands and studied a roster that was propped against his unlit terminal. "Looks like you put in some good hours today." He raised an eyebrow and shot Kolyat a pointed look. "Sore?"
Kolyat considered lying. At one point he would have, just for the hell of it, but that didn't seem like a good enough reason any more. "Tired," he answered, and in more ways than one. He could still taste bits of blood and energy bar crumbs in his mouth.
"You'll live. Still, good work." The muscles of Bailey's face softened, and the numerous web of wrinkles framing his eyes and brow smoothed. "You're doing better than I thought you would."
Kolyat chuffed so hard that his chest hurt. "You must not have expected much."
"I didn't." Bailey's eyebrows lowered and his next breath escaped as a gravelly sigh. "With most kids, getting them to shape up is like pulling teeth. They fight it because the old life is the only one they've ever known. Because they don't know better."
Kolyat shifted, uncomfortable.
"This job is full of one step forwards and two step backs." The older man hesitated, as though he'd considered going on a tangent but decided against it. He spared a glance at his lame arm. "It's nice to see some progress."
"Is there a reason you're telling me this?"
"You deserve to know," Bailey replied, unfazed. "There was a time you couldn't even look me in the eye."
Kolyat instinctively met the captain's gaze. The human looked worn, but he also looked pleased. For a moment Kolyat felt a keen sense of embarrassment, although he couldn't place why.
"Right," Bailey continued, and turned his attention back to the roster. He shifted it aside and scanned through a couple of datapads. "Your friend... Mouse. Heard from him?"
("Work?" the boy asks, brushing at his scalp with one dirt-smudged hand – "Yeah... yeah, I can hook you up. I mean, Krios, right? Just what sort of work are we talking?")
Kolyat uncrossed his arms. "We don't talk much." He frowned. "Why? Have you heard something?"
"Nothing that involves you." Bailey rubbed at the back of his lame hand and cocked his head to the side. "I hear he's thinking about jumping ship to Earth. Either someone's been a good samaritan or people are actually buying those V.I.s of his."
Kolyat felt the muscles of his upper back and neck tense. "He's mentioned it."
"Good for him." Bailey stopped rubbing at his hand, and his face was unreadable as he leveled a stare at Kolyat. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"You heard me. What are you going to do?"
Kolyat's pulse quickened. An awkward silence descended upon the room; Bailey continued to study him with unblinking blue eyes, and Kolyat found himself staring past the human's head to a line of shelves that graced the far wall. He could see picture frames lined up in a neat row, each one containing the holo of a woman's face, a girl and a young male that Kolyat didn't recognize. Of all the items in the room, these appeared to be the most used; their frames were smeared with fingerprints, their edges bent and chipped.
"I don't know," the drell said at last. The longer he looked at the holos, the sicker he felt.
Bailey continued to study him for a few more heartbeats. "That's good."
Kolyat nictated. "That's good?"
Bailey resumed straightening the clutter on his desk, to no effect. "A few months ago you thought you had it all figured out." He looked up. "You can see where that got you. Or better yet, look at where it almost got you: Dead. Jailed. Out in the streets."
(He thumbs the trigger once, twice – cold alloy at the lines of his palm – )
"That's why I'm giving you options," Bailey continued. "Making you do crap that you hate, but that gives you experience. I couldn't deputize you then. Hell, I can't do it now. Don't know if I'd want to. There are channels..." The human was interrupted mid-sentence by a rattling cough, and Kolyat looked on in alarm. The captain's face turned an ugly shade of red as he pressed his free fist against his mouth. The fit passed and he shook his head, pulling the hand away.
"Right," Bailey said, and cleared his throat. "Point is, if it's something you wanted to do, you could. One day. Or you could do something else. You could jump ship like Mouse – go back to Kahje."
"Not Kahje," Kolyat mumbled. His next words came out in an uncertain warble. "Are you... sick?"
Bailey looked surprised by the question. The surprise was quickly replaced by sorrow, which was even more quickly replaced by his usual wry grin. "Nah." He rubbed at the side of his neck and grimaced. "Just getting old..." He indicated his bad arm. "...And a little dinged up."
Kolyat's eyes fell to the sling. The unspoken question must have been obvious, because Bailey pushed himself back in his chair and stood up. Kolyat watched the older man pace the back of his office with a frown that grew steadily more grim.
"There's going to be some changes," Bailey said at last.
Kolyat took a step back. "What do you mean?"
Bailey didn't answer at first, and instead chose to rub at his eyes with two calloused fingers.
No.
No.
Kolyat's fists clenched. "You're leaving?"
Bailey's fingers dragged up to rub at his forehead. "Something like that."
A chill permeated the air. Had the room always been this cold? "Is that what this is about?" Kolyat rasped, not trusting the way his voice kept wanting to break. Bailey turned away from the line of shelves to look at him. "Is this one of those conversations?"
"Watch your mouth and listen," Bailey snapped, his gaze as brittle as it was blue. "You're still in the system. You'll still be taken care of. There are people with an interest in keeping you out of trouble -"
"You're leaving."
Bailey squared his jaw. "It's not much of a choice," he explained, and he gestured at a small box that sat on his desk. Only then did Kolyat realize what was inside it – medals. "The Councilor made sure of that."
Kolyat could feel his heart racing. He could hear it in his head. "But..."
"Executor Pallin is dead," Bailey said. "It'll be on the vids soon enough. And I've been promoted."
Everything seemed to blur. Kolyat's heart was thundering in his ribcage, and every beat pushed a fresh wave of nausea. He wanted to... he didn't know what he wanted to do, so he just stood there like an idiot, silent, trying to absorb everything he had just learned. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen.
But it always did, didn't it? They always left. His father had always left. His mother...
"I don't have a choice," Bailey continued. He picked up a datapad, turned it over in his palm, frowned and then tossed it back onto the desk. "But you do. Don't throw your life away. It wasn't a good idea the first time, and you're doing too well to screw up now."
"What do you know?" Kolyat shot back, ashamed at the way his eyes burned. They wouldn't stop burning.
"You'd be surprised." There was a long pause before the steady thump of boots heralded Bailey's approach. Kolyat didn't move as the officer's free hand gripped the young drell's shoulder.
"I'm not going to leave you here with your ass hanging out," Bailey continued. His calloused fingers gave Kolyat's shoulder a firm squeeze. "Letting you off easy was my decision, and I'll see you earn that whether you like it or not." The captain paused, and the shadows creasing his face softened. "Hell, I wanted a vacation. There's a salmon run back on Earth..."
Kolyat didn't look at him. His body was frigid under the older man's grip. There was a long pause before Bailey retracted his hand and moved back to the desk.
"You're free to go," the older man finished.
Kolyat didn't move at first. When he did, his movements were sluggish. He'd turned toward the door when the veteran's gravelly voice made him pause. Against his better judgement, Kolyat looked back.
"Whatever happens to this station, take care of yourself," Bailey said, the dark circles and scrapes beneath his eyes etching into Kolyat's memory. "A lot of people live a lifetime of regret. It's not too late for you."
Kolyat left without a word. He found himself back in the hallway silhouetted by overhead light. Alone.
(His father leaves out the same door that he always does – )
Pain blossomed in his head then, more mental than physical. Heat prickled his scales, and Kolyat pressed the black plate of his forehead against the nearest wall, his breaths suddenly jagged. His stomach churned. It didn't help.
( – the rain falls outside, like it always does – )
Kolyat pushed himself from the wall and dragged his fingers down the scales of his face, his nails catching on every nick and groove. He stumbled forward. Light and shape blinked in and out of focus. The sides of his vision blurred, moving with the machine-like jolt of his stride. His ribs grated against each other, constricting ever tighter.
(– a warm hand falls upon his face and brushes his tears away – when did he start crying?)
He kept going. The steady pounding of the ground against the soles of his boots traveled up his legs and spine, settling in the back of his head, melding with the beat of his heart. The beat came faster. The pressure increased. He dug his fingers into the soft tissue radiating beneath his eyes.
(His mother pulls him into an embrace, cooing soothing words –)
His mind was a vapor trail, clinging after the hastily departing flesh of his body. It moved with purpose, but blindly. He was sick. He was sick...
("When will father return?" he asks, his throat thick – )
Kolyat didn't know how or when he found the transit station, much less how or when he ended up in the 700 apartment block standing outside Oriana's door. He didn't know. It was hard to breathe. His spirit clung at his scales like a ghost, aimless, anchored by the tightening feeling in his chest. The door of her apartment was dim, all gray and white plastic.
It was so hard to breathe.
("I don't know," she answers, her tear-streaked frill pressed into his own.)
The door opened. Oriana stood in the entryway, her entire body ringed in the light filtering in from her apartment. Her eyes flashed in anger, her lips moved to alien words. Kolyat lost focus. His eyes burned.
The words changed. There was movement. It wasn't his – a hand lit on his arm, thin fingers curled around his bicep. They pulled him inside. His legs followed. He couldn't see where he was going. Everything burned.
"Oh my God. Kolyat?" Her voice. "Kolyat, what's wrong?"
It hurts.
"Please, just, Kolyat – come inside. Please. I didn't -"
It wasn't until he felt his body drawn into the light and led to a seat that he shuddered. Oriana retreated. There was the sound of a terminal being lit. He sat, his arms and head heavy. The floor seemed to spin beneath his feet.
He was sick? He was...
"Mom?" That voice again. "Mom, I'll call you back. I've got someone over-"
Kolyat closed his eyes. He opened them when the footsteps sounded again, growing louder when Oriana returned. Small hands touched Kolyat's shoulders. They were warm; unsure. When the hands touched his face, he broke down completely.
The door to Oriana's apartment closed. But she was still there, and for the first time in a long time, Kolyat was not alone.
(The door always closes, leaving him behind.)
A/N: For those of you wondering what happened to Bailey, I suggest reading the latest Mass Effect mini-comic, Inquisition.