The mind of a child rapidly makes connections. Neurons fire in nanoseconds, absorbing and adapting in ways an adult could only dream to achieve. Mere months passed before Jane was fluent in their odd, alien language. Her lips contorting to meet their words' phonetic demands.
Balya was pointing out the window excitedly babbling about babaghas – Kar'Shan's version of parrots. They shared a mutual fascination with animals yet the ones on Kar'Shan seemed like accidents of evolution to Jane. Beautiful but foreign. Everything on the jungle planet was brimming with vibrant color and these parrot-things were no different. Four wings, brilliantly bright like a blazing fire, their long, feathered tails a mix of yellows and reds. As they dove into the river for fish, Jane couldn't help but think they looked like bombs – pretty, fearsome things.
Yet, fear gradually lost its edge. Smoothed over by time, eroding who she once was. She learned the words for teacher and that the batarians considered this prison to be a school. A biotic school they'd call it. Each child a cog in the machine of The Hegemony. Each serving a greater purpose.
Morning greeted them with vivid, fluorescent lights that popped on at exactly o-five hundred. Their glaring brightness was always followed by an obnoxious alarm, it would echo across the cement, pounding against ears. Balya and her would stand for role call. Walk hand in hand to the locker room, preparing for their daily trials where they'd run until they puked. Slowness got you the switch. Weakness got you the switch. Tripping got the literal snot beaten out of you. But she adapted. Learned to run past the agonizing stitches, to gasp in tandem with her steps, to leap across obstacles in her path. And eventually, after years of brutal training, how to use biotics to thrust herself across lengthy spaces. Crossing distances in seconds that would have taken minutes to sprint.
Despite her circumstances, there were certain aspects of her new life that she enjoyed. Demolition duty was particularly rewarding. They'd be deployed to the ruin of a city where long abandoned sky-scrapers were slowly being engulfed by verdant green. The wilds always reclaimed what belonged to it. Her and Balya would line the rubble with explosives, retreat, and watch the fruits of their labor.
She cherished those days, free of their dismal cell. The sun warming her back as it had working side by side with her father and brother in the fields.
Jane grew to consider these batarians kinder than the ones who raided Mindoir, or perhaps, with time, she simply understood. Bonded to their coarse nature. By meeting their demands, her life became easier, the harsh beatings and strange, ritualistic cutting were muted with hot meals and soft blankets. They had intention behind everything. Words like 'necessary' and 'for your own good' became commonplace. What they wanted was for her to grow powerful. For Balya to grow powerful. So they could use them in wars, to fight and kill on demand. At first, the notion scared her. Yet, time and severe routines whittled away dissent, made her mind smoother, colder. They were being molded instead of murdered, strengthened not broken. And one day, she came to understand that those were not the harshest lessons.
The cruelest, she learned, was the truth. That above all else, humans were no better. And no one was coming to save them. A grim lesson and one she wouldn't soon forget.
The first time she saw grown humans in Datmar, she was a foolish little girl. They descended like angels from on high, familiar sights with neatly pressed uniforms. Their clean, trimmed hair and bright eyes, emboldened her. Hope didn't merely trickle in, it poured out of her very soul.
"Balya!" Jane could scarcely contain her joyful shriek. "Balya look!"
The patter of bare feet against concrete followed. Only when her friend reached their cell's threshold, she yanked Jane backwards and pushed her into a darkened corner. A finger to her lips. Jane watched, perplexed at her friend's reaction. These were adult humans! They were saved! What was her problem?
"What the hell? We have to let them know we're here."
"They buy humans." Balya's tone was flat, dull. "I dunno who they are, or where the kids go, but we never see them again."
Jane pushed past her friend and peered through the bars, watching the humans' torsos bob and sway as they strode down the corridor. Each wore a symbol on their uniforms. An orange, warped hexagon with symmetrical wings on the sides. The base shape looked as if someone hung too many coats on it, stretching and elongating it past its natural form.
"Please." Balya's harsh whisper grew frantic. Little hands pulled desperately at her shirt. "I was alone for… forever before you. I don't wanna be alone again.… p-please just hide with me."
Truthfully, she didn't believe Balya. Not entirely. But there was a familiar tone of desperation in her protests that caused Jane to take a step back. They oriented themselves in such a way that they could peer through the bars while remaining hidden.
After that, she didn't have to believe. The human-monsters showed their true colors. When one of the guards opened a cell, the humans emerged dragging two girls by their hair. They tossed them into shipping containers like they were nothing. Her stomach plummeted. They were human – human. How could they do this? She was older now, had seen the depths of cruelty. And knew the ramifications of shipping something alive across space in nothing but a box.
