Passport to the Darkness

from Virgil's Aeneid, Book Six

Until this bough, this bloom of light, is found,
No one receives [a] passport to the darkness
Whose queen requires this tribute. In succession,
After the bough is plucked, another grows,
Gold-green with the same metal. Raise the eyes,
Look up, reach up the hand, and it will follow
With ease, if fate is calling; otherwise,
No power, no steel, can loose it.

Benezia knelt. The Pythia's attendants had led her to a quiet place, instructing her to fast and pray. They said they would return in a day. She could hear the tezarin, the wind, the pulse of waves, faintly, nothing else.

She sunk into a meditative state. Anxiety and hunger gnawed at her. She observed without judgment or action. Warmth shifted across her as the hours lengthened, and with the warmth came a memory of Aethyta's touch. It took an effort not to push away the recollection. She had not realized she had been grieving Aethyta's loss along with the loss of her sight. It made no sense, they'd shared so little time together, they had so little in common—it had been her choice. What point was there to having wisdom if one lacked the strength to follow it?

Her thoughts turned to the ordeal ahead, and anger at her blindness burned hot in her throat. When tears welled, she let them, grateful for the small space of solitude that left her free from having to be in control. Leaning forward, she tried to imagine floating over her thoughts and feelings, breathing through them like the wind over water. Her mind mocked her. Was it wisdom she followed or fear or … jealousy? Taking deep breaths, she struggled to find a still point, to return to the present, to the sensation of cold marble beneath her knees. Aethyta in Orithia, her mind whispered. Why did such a brief connection impede her preparations for what she'd been working toward all her life? She prayed with increasing desperation for focus, clarity, strength, faith. When she was a matriarch would she still struggle with such confusion and weakness?

A deep chill woke her. She must have slept. The cool floor had left her stiff and sore. It took time to rise and feel around the room. By touch, she found a pitcher and cup on a stand and a cot to one side. She drank sparingly and slept fitfully. In her dreams a snake pursued her, and she could not escape. It sunk its fangs deep into her belly, and she woke with a cry. Afterward, she tossed and turned, but sleep had abandoned her. She gave up and went back to kneeling on the floor.

The attendants found her like that on their return. They waited silently for the feeling to return to her legs so that she could stand and be led away by them. They brought her to some facilities, then to a room that smelled of the sea. They undressed her and led her into a pool. One by one the other Hepta greeted her with touch. No one spoke. They bathed and dressed in robes and walked to another chamber where Benezia could hear the rush and pop of fire and smell a faint sweet scent.

The childish timbre of the Pythia's broke the silence. "Heptai, you and the Potnia share in some of the secrets of the prophetai. When you ascended from Hierea to Heptai, you came here for the rite that made you initiates of our order. Now you have returned for the Harrowing."

Benezia heard those around her stir.

The Pythia's voice now came from in front of Benezia. "The Potnia has appointed a Chloe, but Athame alone selects her mistresses. Potnias come and go, but Athame abides forever."

Voices in the chamber intoned, "Athame abides forever."

"Be'zia T'Soni, step forward."

Clenching and unclenching her fists once, Benezia did.

"Do you agree to undergo the Harrowing, and submit to the Goddess' judgment, though it cost your life?"

Benezia heard something metal swinging on its chains. A thick cloud of incense, hot and choking spilled around her. She swallowed. Her mouth and throat felt very dry. It took an effort to reply without coughing. "Athame's will be done."

"Take off her robe."

Hands pulled her robe from her.

"Attendant … anoint her."

Benezia blinked as she felt warm oil trickle down her crests, run down her forehead and the back of her neck. It smelled slightly floral with an underlying musk. Hands carefully kept it from going in her eyes, then gently rubbed it on her face, her shoulders, brushing the oil across her clavicle and down her arms. The hands hesitantly swept it over her hips and down her legs to her feet. They brushed her breasts. Benezia shifted.

A voice whispered, "I'm supposed to rub it everywhere." Benezia recognized the voice.

"Then do," Benezia forced herself to relax. "Shiala."

Hesitantly, Shiala rubbed the oil across her breasts. Benezia closed her eyes.

"You're doing it wrong!" The Pythia stamped her foot. "You didn't say the prayer! Start over!"

This time when the oil trickled down, Benezia knew what to expect. Shiala whispered the anointing prayer and rubbed the oil gingerly over her crests, on her neck and into her neck folds, then down between her breasts where she stopped.

"Say it louder!" The Pythia sounded impatient. "Circle her! You must anoint all of her."

Shiala spoke the prayer more loudly and, obediently went behind Benezia, rubbing in the oil with now shaking hands.

Benezia bit her lip and concentrated on staying still as Shiala's fingers grazed very sensitive areas.

"May I?" Narissa's voice came from nearby, with a hint of laughter in it.

"Yes, she must be completely covered! It's not that hard!" The Pythia fumed.

Narissa's hands did not hesitate or fumble as she made sure of the spots Shiala had missed or stinted. "We could increase attendance," she whispered to Benezia, as she caressed her breasts, massaging the oil in, "if we made this part of the weekly service."

This was holy and serious, serious and holy, Benezia repeated to herself, conjuring images of Metis being anointed.

"Yes, like that. Good." Benezia felt a small hand pat her flank. "It's okay to enjoy it, B'nezia. You're supposed to."

"Such a beautiful blush, Zia," Narissa whispered, now lightly touching Benezia's shoulder. "Goddess walk with you." She step away.

A small hand clasped Benezia's. "We now cross the first threshold." The hand tugged Benezia forward.

"Wake up! She's unlocking the door." Viala whispered as she nudged Benezia.

The door slowly opened, the baton in the guard's hand buzzing loudly. "Are you alive, Hierea? Are you ready to come out now?"

Benezia, who had been dozing, stretched. "Thank you for returning. Could you bring us some food and water?"

"I only have prisoner's rations, nothing good enough for you. Why don't you come out now? You can have whatever you want when you're done." The guard beckoned her toward the door.

"My work here isn't finished. I'll stay." Benezia covered a yawn.

The guard took a step inside the cell. "It doesn't look like you're doing anything."

Benezia laughed. "Priestesses often hear that complaint."

"Really?" Viala said under her breath. "I can't imagine why."

"Are you wounded? Unable to stand?" The guard took another step. "Did she touch you?"

"No," Benezia reassured her.

"Come on out then. It's time to go." The guard gestured at her with the baton.

Benezia rose to her feet. "Guard, is there anything that you'd like to discuss?"

The guard stopped, fear crossing her face. "What?! Why are you asking me? I'm not a prisoner!"

Benezia continued. "I have neglected those who share their space perhaps with little choice. It must be difficult, to be assigned down here. Even the prisoners eventually leave, but you remain."

The guard took a step back. "I get to go home. I'm not one of the prisoners!"

"How long have your worked here, seeing the worst our people are capable of, dealing with those our society would like to forget are people?" Benezia took a step forward.

"Are you trying to trick me?" The guard backed up another step. "I have all the keys. Down here I have all the power! I'm not like them."

"We're all connected. Let's work together." Benezia extended her hand and stepped toward the guard. "What's your name?"

"You're trying to trick me, and I won't fall for it!" The guard stepped back through the door and slammed it shut, locking it again.

Benezia walked to the door. "It was Pirro, wasn't it? I can help you find a way out of this place."

"Shut up! Shut up!" The guard backed down the corridor, a horrified expression on her face, the prisoners screaming, "Shut up! Shut up!" mockingly at her as she went by.

When the guard could no longer be seen, Benezia turned from the door with a sigh.

"You have a real way with people," Viala observed.

Benezia looked at her in surprise, and then laughed and laughed. She didn't want to die, not here, not now and not like this. Viala eyed her suspiciously as her laughter echoed down the corridor, the whole place seeming to stop and listen.

"You crossed this threshold before," the Pythia said in her high-pitched, childish tones. "Here all Heptai received instruction in divination, how to master the dream of time to use these pools without being used by them."

Benezia remembered a cave-like room, illuminated by flickering torches and ringed with raised basins of black water. Cold fear suffused her. Like the others, to become a Hepta, she had drunk from the basin and stared into its depths until she could see forward and backward in time. The lessons had been painful.

"Only a Chloe can cross the next threshold." The small, slender hand tightened around Benezia's with surprising strength, pulling her forward. "We have anointed you as a suppliant for her favors, and we will remain here chanting prayers for your safe return. Seek Her, and if She finds you, offer yourself completely. That is your privilege. If she desires you, do not deny her. Surrender yourself to her. Let her take and remake you as flesh of her flesh. That is her privilege. For it is only if she claims you that you will return to us, changed forever by her consuming love. So it is written." The hand holding hers squeezed her fingers as others intoned, "It is written."

Cold air blew over Benezia from somewhere ahead. Her heart beat wildly. She swallowed and took one step after another. "How can I seek her when I cannot see?"

"Do not fear your blindness, Benezia." The answer came calmly. "Many with sight cannot see, and in the depths, though many are lost, she has guided you before."

Benezia's throat and mouth felt so dry she wished she had the nerve to ask for a drink. Her foot bumped a flat raised stone.

"You have reached the point of no return." The hand withdrew from hers, and the voice moved away, behind her. "Your harrowing begins when you cross it. What happens on the other side must never be shown to anyone else, not in word, not in thought, not in joining, not even in ecstatic trance, on penalty of death. If you understand, reply, 'I do.'"

Benezia placed one bare foot on the long, smooth stone, feeling it beneath her toes and sole. Energy rippled, a cord of it brushing her arm. It sent tingles across her skin. She heard buzzing before her and whispers behind her. She could still turn back. Someone else could do this. But if she turned aside now, who was she, and what? Her legs trembled. "I do," she said.

Something smooth and heavy was pushed into her hand. "Drink."

Gratefully, Benezia raised the metal cup to her lips and drank the cold liquid. It burned as it went down, warming her limbs and coiling in her belly. The cup was removed. Benezia placed her other foot on the smooth stone. She took a deep breath. The path she had tried to follow all her life had led here. There was only one way to discover where it went from here.

"Know this …," the words came softly, "terror guards the knowledge you seek. You will die, to live as hers, or you will never return."

Benezia hesitated. For a moment, she remembered the unexpected tenderness surrounding her when she'd been stuck inside Aethyta. Maybe it would be like that. She moved one foot forward, off the stone. She remembered struggling on the temple floor, against being overcome, and the flood of light and images. Metis had understood that as a visit from the Goddess. She moved her other foot forward, lifting her arms out before her, feeling for obstacles as she took one step, then another. With a scrapping sound, huge doors swept by her and shut with a ringing clang.

She was alone.

The unceasing din kept Benezia from getting any real sleep. Screams, shouts and the clanging of bars and chains erupted from adjacent cells or farther down the row. She wrapped her arms around herself and drifted in a semi-conscious state. What brought her to full consciousness, she wasn't sure. Some terrible sound much closer by.

It came again, a dry terrible cry, like a child's or an animal's. Was it Viala? She rose and went to her, listening. The prisoner was huddled in a tight ball on the filthy straw, Benezia's cloak twisted around her, her face contorted in pain.

"Viala, are you okay?" Benezia touched her shoulder. A leg flashed out and sunk deep into Benezia's stomach, knocking the breath from her and lifting her off her feet. It happened so fast, she had no time to summon biotics before she hit the opposite wall with force and fell forward. There was nothing but pain. Benezia watched with strange detachment as Viala charged her, fists curled.

A strong hand grasped her throat. "I'll kill you!" Benezia's hands clutched at Viala's wrist as Viala's fingers dug into the softness of her throat. Viala glared at her without recognition. A terrible smile twisted her lips as the cell began to spin. "Or maybe I should treat you like an animal, something to be used. It would be justice." Viala's other hand tore at Benezia's robes, which she heard rip as fingernails scratched her. Benezia's eyes lost focus. Her hands fell limply to her sides as the cell darkened. Viala's fingers released.

Air rushed back into Benezia's lungs, which spasmed as the muscles of her abdomen reacted. She lay where she'd fallen, just breathing, for several minutes. When she tried to sit up, a sharp, grating pain made her catch her breath. It was probably a good thing she hadn't eaten in awhile, because the nausea was intense. At the sound of stirring in the shadows, Benezia raised a shield and got shakily to her feet.

Viala knelt in the shield's light, palms up and open on her thighs, tears visible on her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I … I thought you were someone else."

"You mistook her for me, eluros," a voice drawled from the darkness outside the cell, as a key scraped in the lock.

Benezia inched forward. It had been hours, surely. She could hear dripping and feel the moisture in the air. Her foot slipped on a slimy spot, and she stumbled, again. She stilled at a sound. Nothing, there was nothing there. As she slowly moved forward again, she noticed that the ground seemed to be sloping downward. The stone was uneven beneath her feet, and sharp in places. Water had pooled where it could, and whenever one of her feet touched some, she felt cold. Did the talk about the Goddess finding her mean she was in here until she had a vision? Perhaps something in here was known to trigger them? But besides the pools, which were supposed to be looked in…what?

Her hands touched something solid, and she felt along a column, no too rough, more a jagged tooth of stone. Smoother bits protruded, warmer to the touch. On instinct, she leaned forward and tasted one. It was bitter, and as she suspected, eezo. So the stone was laced with eezo, something had been in her drink, something might also have been in the oil they had anointed her with, and something was definitely in the pools in this place. She listened, not for the faint drips, but for the silences, and shuffled farther to the left and encountered a curved wall, mostly smooth, and ran her hands along it. More slight protuberances. The place might be almost solid eezo. It would normally glow, but the Pythia had said no one could see unless She willed it. So what could prevent eezo from glowing—the pools! Benezia ran her hand along the wall. The anointing with oil suggested instead that she was expected to get in a pool, that there'd be one large enough. She shuddered at the thought. That would mean trusting that the oil could keep the black viscous liquid from draining her biotics and killing her. It would explain why the Pythia had been adamant about complete coverage. She shivered.

More than the cold, the solitude weighed on her. It had been centuries since she'd been this alone, without knowing where the nearest people were, without being surrounded, able to choose what company she pleased. She thought of Sha'ira, who'd been vague about why she couldn't make it to Janiris. Some official function or particularly skilled new client, Benezia guessed, still, it would have been welcome to share some of the events of the past months with her, to hear her perspective. What if she never saw her again? If it wasn't for Sha'ira, she wouldn't be here. She was the one who had decided they should play near the tenemos, so long ago. She was the one who had accompanied her to her Temple presentation, when she'd been selected as a Hepta, right after Fe'ira had been selected as a hetera. Sha'ira had been at every major turning point, except this. And back when she was still Fe'ira, she had taught her so much. By the time the four of them were in advanced school, everyone only ever noticed the intoxicating, sensuous Fe'ira. Kandake had become loud and very good at sports before being recruited as a huntress. Thais and Iolanta had been excellent students, winning competitions and academic honors before going to work for top firms. She, on the other hand, had been practically invisible. Few had noticed her, but she had paid close attention to them, studying how groups formed, how pairs drew close and pulled back, approved and condemned. It took skill, even more than beauty, what Fe'ira did, a way of knowing people. Fe'ira knew how to talk to them, how to touch them, how to find out what they wanted and how to make them want other things, when to give and how to take. She had studied Fe'ira closely, not realizing she was being studied in turn, until the day of the spring storm, when she had become Fe'ira's avid apprentice. Benezia smiled at the memory as she continued to follow the wall.

A storm had blown up while their riding group hurried to return through the woods. A flash of lightning and loud crack of thunder had spooked their mounts, scattering them in the confusion, a few carrying their riders away and being chased by friends. Fe'ira's mount had thrown her, and only Benezia and Fe'ira's latest aphrodisia, Xandi, had their mounts under control enough to remain near her. When Benezia had dismounted, her ride too had run away. With wide sincere eyes, Benezia had insisted that the aphrodisia go for help, saying she would stay with Fe'ira.

Benezia's foot slipped into a particularly deep pool, and she fell. Gathering herself with a sigh, she sat on the cold, damp floor, rubbing her toes and taking a moment to rest and to enjoy the memory.

"We should find cover. It'll start pouring any second," Benezia had counseled, wrapping her arm around Fe'ira's waist. Fe'ira had hurt her shoulder, wrist and ankle in her fall.

"I didn't see where it went? Was it injured?" Fe'ira had asked, accepting the support, and looking around for her mount.

"They know what to do in a storm," Benezia had reassured her. "We need to do likewise."

"If we leave here, Xandi won't be able to find us when she returns," Fe'ira had protested, having to speak loudly over the winds.

"She won't return in the middle of the storm. She'll come back when it subsides." Overhead the leaves whipped in the wind. The air had that freshness that promised imminent rain.

Fe'ira had laughed. "Xandi would do anything for me." She hobbled along anyway. "Someday you'll understand."

"Mmm," Benezia had put her observations to use, and said nothing, avoiding eye contact with 'Ira.

"Benny?" Fe'ira had leaned more heavily on her. "What? You're touching already?! How could you not have told me?! With whom?"

Benezia had carefully avoided eye contact. "You've been busy. It's not important." She had let her hand brush down the inside of 'Ira's arm as she shifted her grip to 'Ira's hip.

Fe'ira insisted. "We've been friends forever … so … you have to tell me." A fallen tree ahead had lifted the mantle of earth in its roots like a skirt. Fe'ira nodded toward the dark cave it made, hobbling toward it. Fat raindrops speckled the ground. "It has to be someone special …." She halted, frowning. "It's not, wait, it couldn't be … someone from the home, right? There's the whole school to choose from!"

Gently, Benezia brushed the hand that had been holding 'Ira's on her shoulder along 'Ira's cheek, over her furrowed brow. "Kandake said she could help me 'get it over with' if I was afraid."

The furrow on Fe'ira forehead deepened. "Tell me you didn't, not with Kandake, not that way!" She took Benezia's hand, "Are you afraid?"

Benezia glanced at 'Ira, "No," then looked away. "I just can understand better than you realize." She had made up her mind; she was determined.

"Ben, it's supposed to be special," Ira had whispered, "an almost sacred thing, one's first joining. It's not a chore or something to be rushed into. You don't have to 'get it over with." She released Benezia's hand, a pained look crossing her face. "You're… It's just … Kandake.…" She pulled out of Benezia's grip.

"You want her?" Benezia flushed under 'Ira's intense scrutiny.

The frown slowly left 'Ira's face. "You're really ready?"

"'Ira." Now that the opportunity had arrived, Benezia felt like she couldn't breathe. Her fingers trembled despite her efforts, as she slowly unfastened her riding top. She had opened it, displaying her breasts and holding out one hand in the traditional gesture. "I want it to be you."

'Ira's eyes had darkened, and Benezia had marveled at the intense warmth that had suffused her. She could feel it waking her whole body. The rain was so cold as the clouds let loose at last, but the soil fragrant and warm, and it was good, it was very good.

Viala rose to her feet. "Who are you?"

The door swung open. "The new management."

"Viala," Benezia said softly. "She's an uncollared ardat. Stay away from her."

A slow, predatory smile crossed the asari's tattooed face. "So many goodies, like sweets sorted in a big, metal box. She told me," she swung the key ring around her wrist, "'be a good girl, go to the bright shiny priestess, juicy with judgment and never trained to fight…. Not that fighting helped … my breakfast." She licked her lips.

"I fight," Viala stood her ground, clenching her fists. "She'll fight. Get out."

"Don't, Viala." Benezia said quietly between clenched teeth. "Get behind me."

"She'll struggle, you'll struggle, almost everyone struggles. They expect me to stop. I tell them that I will, but then they're so good." The asari started to glow more brightly.

Gritting her teeth, Benezia grabbed Viala's wrist, sending the image of their backs to the door, and the keys in Viala's hands, of cell doors opening and looking for an alarm, of hiding. Viala's surprise at the touch of her mind, spiked fear, wonder, then coalesced into determination.

We'll fight together. It was like hitting a wall. Memories of fighting with a partner flashed in quick succession with an undertone of satisfaction.

A bright purple stab of pain radiated through her as she pulled Viala toward her. Benezia let it flicker through, and Viala's determination softened under guilt. She sent an image of Viala's collar through their link. Without biotics?

Can you take her? Viala stumbled then regained her footing behind Benezia.

Can I trust you? Benezia released Viala's wrist. Viala was within her shield.

The tattooed asari lunged. Benezia sidestepped. The asari tested Benezia's shield, toying with it, then stepped back and picked Benezia's cloak off the cell floor. "You don't belong here, but you wouldn't leave. You wouldn't leave and my breakfast didn't understand why. She wanted me to make you show me." She sniffed the cloak, eyes going dark. "I know why." A powerful lance of biotics shot from her fist. Benezia's shield flashed bright and held. The tattooed asari formed a sharp biotic blade, sliced then stabbed. Benezia experienced them as palpable hits, as she pushed them off. "Strike her," the tattooed asari encouraged Viala, "and I will hold her down while you take your revenge."

"Modulate," Viala coached quietly, her fingertips light and firm on Benezia's back, one brushing her skin through a tear in the fabric. You'll drain if you try to keep a whole shield, and get pinned if you don't. Move your feet quicker! Attack her!

Sweat formed on Benezia's forehead as she deflected the next few blows, trying not to make the effort to get to the door too obvious. No! I don't believe in violence.

Then she's already won.

Benezia dropped her overall shield in favor of an arm shield. It took much more focus. There has to be another way. The other prisoners will help.

I wouldn't count on it. The pressure on Benezia's back increased slightly, then stopped, as Viala darted for the door.

It slammed shut. Viala pushed against it uselessly, then turned to face the advancing asari, her back pressing against the bars.

Benezia launched a powerful pull, stripping the keys from their attacker's arm and regaining her full attention. Narrowing her eyes against the pain, Benezia pulled the cell door off its hinges and threw it toward their attacker, tossing the keys out into the hall.

The attacker propelled the door back and pounced, flying across the cell so fast she trapped Benezia against wall as soon as the door had been deflected. Her breath was hot on Benezia's cheek. Benezia stabbed her fingers into her assailant's neck, feeling cartilage fold beneath the blow. No more hot breath. Her attacker recoiled, one hand clutching her throat, the other grabbing Benezia's wrist. Benezia cried out as she fell.

"Hiera!" Viala hesitated in the cell door.

Cold water dripping on her head woke Benezia. She didn't know how long she'd slept. Rising to her feet, stomach growling, she resumed following the wall, taking slow sliding steps. The ground underfoot had become less rough, but no less uneven. It sloped down to the left, away from the wall, which was cold and wet. She advanced slowly, hoping her movement would warm her. A slight ringing in her ears kept her from hearing anything except dripping sounds. The wall became rougher. She licked dry lips in concentration. Her toes bumped against an outcropping. She took her hand off the wall to assess the outcropping. It rose from the floor and grew narrower as it rose, and it was bumpy and very slimy. She'd have to go around it. Attempting to do so, her foot bumped something else. Another outcropping. Several times as she tried to go around these, she encountered more, as if the floor had grown fangs that had closed to prevent proceeding in that direction.

The next outcropping was different. The base was narrower, drier and smooth. It curved in, then rounded, and then…. Benezia's hands stilled. This shape she knew. It was not simply a rock, but a statue. This must be the waist. Her hands explored higher. Yes, breasts. She couldn't reach its face, because of its height, but it had to be a statue of the goddess. At last she was getting somewhere! Her elation died as she continued to trace the shape, not warm enough to be all eezo, not cool enough to be all cave stone. No clues about what to do next, but at least she had found the goddess.

Wait. Standing on tiptoe, Benezia traced the left arm. It rose. Benezia had to stretch way out, utting all her weight on the stone arm, to reach the goddess' hand. It was cupped, but held nothing. Benezia's feet slipped suddenly off the statue's narrow base. She hit her head on the goddess' stone breast but caught herself. Heart pounding, she clung to the statue's stone waist. After a few minutes, she managed to get her feet back on the statue's base. When they had slipped, they hadn't touched anything. The ground must slope away steeply in front of the statue. She waited until she had caught her breath before attempting to determine what was in the goddess' other hand. She suspected that it would hold some stone object that would give her a clue about the statue's iconography. Then she'd know what she'd need to find and place in the empty cupped hand.

Wrapping her hand around the goddess' waist, she could trace the upper arm on the right side, but it was lifted up at a steeper angle than the left had been. She bit her lip and tried to find a way to hold onto the goddess' neck. It must look like her groping and trying to embrace the statue. Maybe this was where all the talk of being chosen as the goddess' lover came in. Try as she might, she could find no way to reach the goddess' raised right hand while facing her. With trepidation, she twisted herself around, she could almost …. Her hand slid up the goddess' arm to the elbow, then almost to the wrist. There was something… there. Her toes burned as she put most of her weight on them, her other hand gripping the statue's elbow. She could barely touch, the thing in the statue's right hand, slender and solid, … moved … It … gave… fell! NO! She slipped, lost her purchase completely, and tumbled forward into empty air. She heard a muffled splash a second before she hit cold, viscous goo.

The tattooed asari's fingers caught in her robe as she grabbed at her. Benezia doubled up from the pain in her side as she rolled away and regained her feet.

Viala had taken several steps back into the cell, toward her. She didn't have the keys.

"Go!" Benezia panted.

With a nod, Viala backed two steps, turned and ran. Benezia watched her attacker get slowly to her feet, holding her neck. Benezia had never struck anyone before. The sound and feeling of the cartilage yielding under her fingers stayed with her.

"I'm going to hurt you," her attacker wheezed.

Benezia raised her fists. She could hear screaming down the hallway.

"No one can get to you in time." Her opponent moved toward her.

Benezia summoned her biotics, and didn't back away. "I don't need someone to save me."

Doors clanged and terrible screams reverberated in the hall.

Benezia slapped into something cold and sank. It was cold and thick. She gulped air and tried to swim, her head burning where the dense stuff touched it. She could feel herself growing cold. Black, it would be black. Dear Goddess, have mercy. Her heart pounded as she struggled against it. So heavy. It pulled her down. She saw ships filling the sky like stars. Her arms became too heavy to lift. It slowly enveloped her. Fire tore along the ground, and in the shadows behind the flames, figures. She kicked and kicked, her efforts unable to lift her in the dense fluid. The ground shook as the figures marched. Her lungs burned. She needed air. The marching filled the air with thunder. Her movements became more frantic. So cold. They were going to find her. She kicked more feebly. They had her. Down and down she sunk. Cold metal fingers grasped her skull, another hand reaching. Underneath her, something solid? Stone. She pushed off. She … no … must … couldn't. The fingers pried her ribs open. She could not cry out. She sank back to the stone. Metal fingers pushed into her skull. Her hands felt along the bottom, her lungs bursting, brushed against something small round slender. Her fingers contracted around it. With a loud crack, the stone beneath her shuddered and gave way.