"Nothing under here," Uli'Rann said. His visor had changed color slightly, filtering the view outside through a low-grade night-vision program projected by his suit VI. It showed him the thin crawlspace of the prefab like it was exposed to morning sunlight. There was nothing underneath but dirt and the round belly of a steel water tank.
Uli was flat on his stomach, scouting out every possible hiding spot with due care and attention. He was risking a lot going unarmed but, he reasoned to himself, the rifle would've been too bulky anyway.
Prazza'Vael had flat-out refused to relinquish his weapon and crawl under the house himself. Uli rolled over onto his back, neck twinging slightly as the 'life-line', the bundle of wires connecting the back of his helmet to his suit, settled between him and the dirt. He had barely any space to move.
It reminded him of his bunk on the Vazord when he was old enough to get his first envirosuit. He'd spent his first few nights staring at a piece of bulkhead and trying not to squirm. Adjusting to the suits was always a difficult process. Every grown-up had assured him it'd be a second skin before he knew it and he'd come to value the freedom it provided far more than the dubious safety of the clean-sealed cubbies they grew up in. Still, it was difficult.
It was hard for orphans especially. Uli'Rann knew that from experience.
There was a lot of fun around your first suit if you had parents. Uli had no partner and no child but he had lots of friends. He'd attended a few 'break-down' parties when the family all pitched in to disassemble the clean-sealed cubby and free up room for the young quarian to decorate their little space in the family quarters.
That, usually, turned into another little ritual in the form of the klennu ceremony, 'siblings party', when the child presented their cubby to a quarian family on the verge of moving their own toddler out of the baby-bubble. Shared resources were the lifeblood of the Migrant Fleet.
The grateful parents made a show of thanking the child and naming them their little one's sibling; klenn, klenno, or klenna. Quarian population numbers had to be stable and this was, for as long as anyone could recall, the only kind of sibling a young quarian could have. But the dangers of infections remained. The ceremony never featured the little sibling unless the families were very close. In fact, it wasn't uncommon for cubby-siblings to never meet until many years later.
When you were an orphan, Uli'Rann reflected, you had cubby-siblings too. Probably more than anybody given how many times the cubbies were reused. But he'd never met any of them. He never knew them. He vaguely remembered his little cubby-sibling's name was Taka. But her clan name had passed over his head at the time, his suit had been pinching a little and it had driven him crazy.
"What can you do?" he asked the metal flooring of the prefab. He struggled forward and pulled himself out from crawlspace. For a moment his arm pressed hard against the tank and he stuck. As he sidled free his suit VI gave a wheedling cry that the temperature differential had changed and the sudden chill was cause to seek shelter. The tank was steel and its contents cold. The water inside burbled as Uli'Rann pushed himself away with his knee.
Most species might've thought a man his size unable to fit in a such a small aperture but flotilla life made small spaces easier to measure at a glance. Once he was away from the obstruction he got loose with no real difficulty.
"Not here," he announced to Prazza'Vael as he dusted off his shoulder armor, he paused as he looked at the younger quarian, "what are you doing with my rifle?"
"Covering you," Prazza said, snappish as ever, "what do you think?"
"You weren't listening," Uli said, feeling more disappointed than angry, "that pistol is better than my rifle."
"If it attacks us-"
"If we have to defend ourselves," Uli said, repulsed by the idea, "if there is absolutely no other choice, Prazza'Vael, you want something that pierces a biotic barrier easily. Assault rifles and shotguns are powerful but a lot of fire in one spot, head or chest, will only strengthen the barrier." He tapped his helmet. "Physics, Prazza. Surface area diffuses strength. Better to make it a single, powerful shot. Better chance it punches through." He recalled the small handprints by the bore-hole they'd found.
"If it comes to that," he said again, "but it won't. I bet it won't." Prazza shoved the rifle back into Uli's hands and stalked down the road. "Next one. I feel it."
"Probably just a rash," Prazza griped, "they're not here. They fled to the other side of those mountains to the south by now." Uli'Rann forced a cheerful laugh.
"You play mean, Prazza'Vael, but deep-down you want that little human safe," he teased.
"It's not our job to chase down a human brat who doesn't even want our help."
"'You are a part of every family. The child of every parent. You are not alone.'"
"Another human literature quote?" Prazza said with derision.
"Khelish actually," Uli'Rann said, "above the orphanage entrance aboard the Vazord." Prazza at least was decent enough to fall silent. "You'll look back on this one day, Prazza, and feel glad you did this. It takes time." Uli'Rann slowed down and laughed. "I told you it'd be the next one."
"Your feeling?" Prazza sulked. Uli'Rann pointed to the next prefab's open front doorway, where Hana'Nur vas Shepherd raised a hand in recognition.
"Stop there," she commanded softly through their comms, "I'm coming to you."
"Hold up, Prazza," Uli raised a fist up. Hana'Nur approached at a quick walk, something squarish cradled in her hands.
"That's her prefab," she said.
"Her?" Prazza said with suspicion. Hana'Nur turned around the object in her hand and the digi-frame came to life with colors. A pair of humans smiled at them. The woman was muscular and solid. Her face was twisted in a big, bear-like grin that matched the little girl she embraced around the middle. Uli was struck by how similar the parent and child were.
Same off-green eyes. Same wild red hair, though the little one had grown it past her shoulders while her mother's was close-cut like a halo of fire. They even shared a dusting of…his VI rapidly checked the human section of his anatomy reference material…'freckles' around their noses.
"Hey," he said suddenly, noticing their shirts, "dragons." Prazza grumbled something behind him but Uli was too absorbed by the image of a sinuous red creature spreading its wings across their shirts.
"Edmonton Blood Dragons," he read, "spit fire, soar high." His suit VI followed his muttered commands to find more information. "An athletic team of some kind. Keelah, that's their home stadium in the background." He leaned closer to peer at the background. "Alberta, Canada. Earth."
"Their homeworld," Hana'Nur said, "look at the date, Uli'Rann." The marine's heart sank a little as his suit translated the string of numbers to the quarian calendar.
"Just five weeks ago," he said. The girl's spindly arms were wrapped tight around a silver foam helmet that bore a signature his VI recognized as the autograph of the Blood Dragons' lead 'striker', Suki Sansho. She was cheek-to-cheek with her mother and smiling as big as the Milky Way. Uli'Rann tapped the screen with a finger.
"It came to life amidst a squeal of laughter.
"Ha! I got it! I got it! Ok, ready?" The mother asked.
"Ready," the girl piped. They both began to chant in unison.
"Blood Dragons, Blood Dragons, 1-2-3! Spit fire, soar high to vic-tor-ee! Blood Dragons, Blood Dragons, 4-5-6! Too strong and too tough and way-too-quick! Blood Dragons, Blood Dragons, 7-8-9! Blood Dragons win it every time! Rawr!"
The mother and child roared into the camera and froze suddenly. A little message popped up and asked if the user would like to play the clip again.
"Keelah," Uli'Rann said, he looked at the prefab with new sorrow, "this place was someone's home."
"How do we even know she's the survivor? She doesn't look like much," Prazza seemed unmoved. Uli scolded himself for even thinking so. Prazza wasn't a monster.
"I haven't gotten the chance to search the terminal in there yet," Hana'Nur said, lowering the digi-frame, "but this is the only prefab on this side with a child living in it."
"So where is she then?" Prazza said.
"Uli'Rann," Hana'Nur turned to him, "look around the outside. Check everything carefully. I'm going to keep looking inside." Her head turned sharply as Prazza passed his omni-tool through the air. "You can go ahead and waste time checking for heat-signatures, Prazza'Vael. But you won't find anything."
"And yet," Prazza said with an edge in his voice, "you want us to search for her?"
"She is here," Hana'Nur said calmly, "somewhere that outsmarts mouth-breathing visor-foggers like you." Prazza jolted forward, Uli'Rann's large forearm caught him.
"Enough," he said, "Prazza watch the road and collect yourself." He turned on his old friend. "Hana'Nur, please." Prazza spat a Kelish oath and lurched away, gripping his pistol in a way that made Uli'Rann nervous. "He's proud. You know it's just his youth."
"It's more than that," Hana'Nur said, staring after their young colleague, "he was on Omega on Pilgrimage and ran afoul of a human biotic. He said he nearly died twice? That was the first time." Uli didn't bother asking how she knew. Hana'Nur was difficult to discourage if she wanted to learn something.
"Keelah," Uli grunted, "and still you rile him up?"
"He has to learn to put his fear behind him or be consumed by it," Hana'Nur said, "he's not a child anymore. He has to grow up. A frightened little girl who's lost everyone is not going be the target for his powerlessness." Uli was taken aback by the sudden intensity in her voice.
"What…do we do when we find her?"
"Call Yun'Razi."
"You know what I meant, Hana."
"Let's find her first," she said, "leave your rifle with me." UIi'Rann tensed a little.
"…Prazza is over-cautious," Uli said, "but. Ach! I hate it, Hana, but if she-"
"Trust me, Uli'Rann. Please." After a longer moment than Uli would've liked to admit to, he handed his weapon over and made a puzzled sound when she passed him the digi-frame.
"Take it," she said, "it'll help her trust you if you give it to her." Uli nodded, hiding his uncertainty well behind his mask. Hana'Nur stepped soundlessly up in the prefab. Uli made a circuit around the property. The red-haired woman must've been expanding their little back garden as a side-project. Sticks held up hopeful signs drawn with colored pencil. Drawings of things he'd heard of but never seen. Tomato. Carrot. Spinach, said a little sign with a frowning, nauseous face drawn next to a wet green shape.
The garden shed was digi-locked with a number pad. He rapped his knuckles on it twice.
"Hello? Little one?" He sent a command to his suits audio intake and his hearing sharpened suddenly. He heard Prazza'Vael's mutterings on the other side of the house and a chair sliding as Hana'Nur moved about inside. "Little one? If you're in there can you unlock the door? I won't hurt you."
Resolute silence. He lowered the intensity of his audio intake and sighed. He punched in a five digit code. lock blinked red. He shook his head and punched in a new sequence. 54321. The panel beeped a welcome as it turned green. He held the digi-frame picture in his hands, awkward without his weapon.
"I unlocked the door," he called out softly, "it's going to be ok. Little one?" He glanced at the digi-frame and the smiling face of the child in it. She wasn't unlike a quarian. Different and alien certainly, quarian hair never approached the color red, but…
"Little one," Uli said, "I'm going to open the door and back far away." He positioned his hand over the digi-lock. "It's ok if you don't want to come outside. Just the close the door if you're not ready."
There was a pneumatic hiss as he pressed the interface then he was dozen feet away, arms held passively at his sides. He craned forward, night-vision covering his visor, and finding nothing but the little twitches of reflected light off a rack of gardening tools. He stepped forward and leaned into the shack.
It was new, of course, as was everything inside of it. Humanity was on the ascent and the quarian could only marvel at the items inside and the sheer amount of space they were allowed. If the shack was cleaned out, he knew Migrant Fleet members who'd kill for the few square feet of space provided for shovels, picks, and hoes.
Tools no-one is using now. The survivalist voice ingrained in his mind pressured him to document the items and mark them for salvage. The liveships could make fine use of gardening tools. He absently put the digi-frame aside to free his hands and stopped short as the movement activated it and a new image popped up on screen. The girl was kneeling on a comfy looking couch, hands and face pressed against the reinforced glass of a starship window. Her eyes were bright with wonder.
Uli'Rann fogged up his visor with a sharp gasp of awe.
Outside the window was the curve of a blue planet. Continents of green and white and sandy yellow. Oceans of iron blue. Wild shapes of clouds crossing by as it rolled beneath them. The digi-frame blinked.
The mother's face was close to the frame, probably adjusting her omni tool camera, a look of mischief crinkling her freckled nose. She turned the camera on her daughter, who was fast asleep on the couch beneath the window.
"Baby," the mother put on an exhausted tone, "wake up. I got bad news."
"Whaaaaaat?" The girl moaned, rolling over and snuggling into the cushions.
"So," the mother said, "they just said they have to turn the whole ship around. We gotta go back to Arcturus Station and wait a whole week." The girl turned her head slowly, face slack with horror where it peeked through her red hair.
"No," she said with a look pure, terrible denial on her face. The camera shook with the mother's barely contained laughter.
"Yeah," she said, "we got to Jupiter and they said cuz you didn't brush your teeth like mom told you to your breath set the ship's engine-leak alarms off." A pair of little eyebrows slowly scrunched together suspiciously. Her mother's voice cracked into helpless laughter. "If you look quick…if you look…you can just see Pluto before we go back through the Charon Relay." The word ended in heavy, shaking peals of mirth. Her daughter hopped up onto her knees and looked outside.
Her mouth dropped open and she whipped her head towards the camera, immortalizing a wide-eyed look of betrayal that her set her mother into a fresh explosion of cackling.
"I hate you!" Her daughter shouted with joy then jumped at her and embraced her. "I hate you so much! You're the worst!" She scrambled back onto the couch, blanket unspooling from her shoulders as she stared at the blue world beneath her.
"Fifteen minutes to touchdown," her mother teased, "welcome to Earth." The scene froze and left Uli standing in the tool shack. He stepped outside awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a thief inside a sacred place.
"Uli. Prazza." Uli was startled by Hana'Nur's voice in his comm link.
"What?" Prazza said, sullen as a krogan in a peacetime.
"Y-yes?" Uli answered after a few seconds.
"She's got an amp."
"Damn you, Hana'Nur!" Prazza's comm-link crackled with the sound of a gun priming. "No wonder she slaughtered those varren."
"How bad?" Uli asked.
"Don't do anything to threaten her," Hana'Nur's voice was stern, even a little nervous, "its supposed to boost her control but in her emotional state it could make her dangerous even if she's not trying to kill."
"We should leave! Or at least call in air-superiority!"
"You want to leave, Prazza'Vael? Go then! At least you won't do anything stupid within my line of sight."
"I'm not going to get slapped with dereliction just because you can't focus on our mission!" Prazza's mic whined with the volume of his voice. "I'm guarding this road to protect the rest of the crew. If you two get ripped limb from limb that's your business but I will put that human down if she tries to attack me!"
"Brave words," Hana'Nur mocked him, "try not to crack your visor as you trip running away."
"Prazza," Uli said, "it won't come to that. She'll come to us." Uli glanced at the image of the little one on the digi-frame, her delight making him worry at what might go wrong.
"She's not in the shed. I'm checking the grass behind the house next. Crawlspace after. Not much else around here. Prazza, still no heat signature?"
Vengeful silence followed.
"Prazza'Vael!"
"Nothing, alright, Uli? Not a thing!"
"Ancestors," Uli whispered as he stepped into the tall, yellow grass, "let there be no more bloodshed on this world tonight."
"Little one?" he called. "Little one, are you out here? Are you hiding in the grass?"
The grass rustled back in an answering a gust of wind.
"Little one, I'm a soldier from the Migrant Fleet," he called gently, "I'm here to help you." He parted the grass and stepped forward, watching the ground for the hint of a small body. "So you don't have to hide."
He made a dejected circle through the grass before he called again.
"Little one," he said, almost sighing, "please. Please, let me help you. I just want you to be safe."
He tapped the digi-frame. The next picture showed the mother alone. Behind her was a steel railing and beyond a sparkling sea. There were humans milling around on the golden strip of sandy beach behind her. The beach-goers wore almost nothing. Their limbs, heads, and even torsos bare to the kiss of their yellow sun.
"To walk unafraid," Uli'Rann said, "under the sun on your homeworld." The mother's kind smile touched his heart. He tapped the screen tentatively and the sound of rushing waves and crying sea-birds touched the surface of Mindoir, an ocean of stars away.
"Soooooo," the daughter's voice behind the camera, "what is your favorite part of Earth?"
"I like," her mother said, grinning at the camera, "that every day is twenty-four hours long. That the sun is yellow. That there's only one moon. That the air is super breathable."
"Mooooom!"
"Ok, ok. I like that sky isn't as filled with space-junk as when I was a kid."
"What else? Come on!"
"I love how much fun you're having visiting it for the first time."
"That doesn't count." Her mother looked past her and her eyes lit up.
"I love the boardwalks," she said, "there's nowhere else in the galaxy that has boardwalks like Earth." She stood up. "And I love that those boardwalks have the best soft-serve ice cream in the whole universe."
"Soft-what?" Her mother grinned and the image paused. Uli hesitated a moment then tapped it once again. The mother's face once more, framed by the ocean.
"Hey, baby," she said to the camera, "you won't see this til we get home. I just felt like I wanted to get this down here so…so I don't ruin the trip." She tried a sly smirk. "You're busy over there." She turned the camera, her daughter was on a wooden bench, lap covered in paper napkins, gracefully balancing an enormous treat of some kind. A paste or cream spiraled high on a cone. "Going to town on that chocolate-vanilla twist."
Uli laughed softly. The camera turned back to the mother. She fixed some of her hair and pursed her lips in thought.
"I'm having so much fun," she said finally, her eyes shining, "I am absolutely loving every second we spend together." The love in her voice radiated through the speakers like the engines of a starship, warm, constant, and strong enough to cross the stars. "You are so funny and you are so wonderful. And I am your biggest fan ever. Seriously."
Her words belied a growing conflict in her face. Her brow wrinkled and she chewed her lip.
"So last year, when I kept shutting off the news-feed whenever they talked about Conatix Industries…," she paused, "the company had been…you know what? Ask me about that one and we'll talk it out face-to-face. But the short answer is…I was scared." The woman braved a shuddering breath. "I was scared, baby, cuz I remember when you first started showing your biotics and I was out of my mind with worry. I was looking for answers and I almost sent you to that program that Conatix was running just for…"
The image paused then resumed a second later. She'd collected herself.
"Ok, let's try again," she said with a wry smile, "the Sirta people have been very nice to us. The amps. The surgery. The implant surgery which, oh my God, you handled so well last year. Seriously. You are my hero." She winked. "This check-up, here on Earth was another nice thing that they did. The vacation they paid for. All the places we get to see." She grinned wildly. "The Blood Dragon box tickets next week. How pumped are you?! God, I hope they won or you're gonna be so pissed off-oops, ticked off I meant to say. Don't…don't repeat that to anybody."
Her eyes, green like her daughters, misted with joy.
"You're a big girl now," a tremble entered her voice, "and you're gonna be making decisions on your own soon. And decisions have consequences. If I'd sent you to BaAT I don't know how things could've gone. I trusted my gut and it said 'don't send a six-year-old out to a space station you can't easily get to'." She turned the camera again. Her daughter was still wolfing down her treat. "Best. Decision. Ever. Eleven years old and destroying that ice cream. Go, go, go!" The camera turned again. She wiped her eyes.
"I'll always be in your corner, baby," she said, "But you got big choices coming your way. What do you want? Who are you gonna be? What are you gonna do? And what's most important is that you plant your feet somewhere. Remember what you believe and why and what you won't do to compromise it. Cuz its easy to do. It can even seem like the smart choice but…you can't give control of your life to someone else." She shrugged helplessly. "I dunno. I hope this made sense. Love you, Jane." The image froze.
Uli smiled at her for a moment then, as the wind raced across the quiet graveyard of Mindoir he felt sick to his stomach. Worse than any illness. He looked over the bright face of the woman that he knew, in the pits of his heart, lay tangled amongst the dead in the bore-hole. Shot from ambush and dumped like trash.
The skin cold and pale. The laughter gone quiet. The Earth in her vid was distant. Lost. As lost as Rannoch. A life. A home. One that could never be again. Gone in a violent second.
And he was disgusted with himself for entertaining the idea of killing her daughter, even if what was a fear reaction to the way she'd massacred the varren. He'd let the darkness of this place infect him and compromise what he believed deep down.
"I'm sorry," he heard himself saying, then he felt the tears he'd been shedding, "oh, Keelah. I'm so sorry." He hovered his finger over the digi-frame and whispered. "If you're here, among your Ancestors, guide me. Help me find your daughter. Help me find Jane. I'll help her. I swear…by the homeworld I hope to see one day. Rest now"
He tapped the screen and the black frame left him feeling cold and alone.
"Keelah se'lai," he whispered. He activated his comm link, sniffling a little. "Hana'Nur, find anything yet?"
"Nothing worth mentioning," Hana'Nur sounded concerned, "what's that sniffle, Uli?" Uli'Rann did not get embarrassed easily but he felt slightly ashamed of himself for pawing through the memories of a broken family. Somehow voyeuristic or at least intrusive.
"It'll pass," he said with forced disregard, "probably a little mucus build-up. Eh, what can you do?" He mutely commanded his suit VI to run a lachrymal protocol. A little hum of hot air dried the tears on his face.
"Have you found her?"
"Not yet. Her name is Jane," he said. Hana'Nur was quiet for a moment.
"Her mother seemed like a good woman," Hana said, sadness softening her voice. Uli clutched the digi-frame in both hands. "Keep looking, Uli, she's around here."
"Why are you so sure she came back home?" Hana'Nur made an amused sound.
"Aren't we quarians, Uli? What have been doing for three centuries? Trying to get home. Everyone wants to go home when they're in danger." Uli mulled that over as he came back to the prefab and made for the crawlspace.
"Jane?" he called out, crouching down to investigate the flat ground under the steel flooring. There was no-one underneath the house and he made a sad, frustrated noise. "Jane, please be alive…"
He stepped away from the crawlspace and walked around perimeter of the prefab. The delicate sensors in the bottom of his boots blipped on his visor, warming him of a slipping hazard. He glanced down and found a dark patch of bare earth made into a swampy puddle of mud.
He made to step around it before a thought occurred to him. The puddle formed around the large round water tank nearby, tucked half under the house. Uli'Rann's specialized, quarian omni-tool apparated in an orange glow around his right hand and he focused a temperature sensor on the tank.
No heat signatures. He was almost ready to tell Hana'Nur that the girl wasn't to be found nearby when he remembered the temperature warning from the last prefab. He smiled under his visor, hope buoying his spirits.
"You clever child," he whispered. He took a few steps forward and knocked on the side of the water tank. The hollow drum rang softly.
"Hello?" Uli'Rann knelt and peeked around the corner to a small hatch in the side. Perhaps humans or batarians would consider it too small even for a child to hide inside but he was quarian. If it could hold so many volumes of water it could hide an eleven-year-old girl.
His relief made him reach for the door before his better sense kicked in and stopped him. He rested against the tank and knocked again, a little rhythm this time, to let the child inside know he knew she was there.
"Jane," he said, "it's safe now. The batarians are gone. Long gone." He could've kicked himself. She'd fought off the varren trying to feast on her dead neighbors sometime that morning. She probably knew they were gone already.
"We're soldiers," he said, conversing as if she were next to him, "we've been looking for you. We want to make sure you're alright." He rubbed his thumbs over the digi-frame's plastic edges. "I'm sorry about your mama, Jane. And I know you must be scared. I know you don't know me and you don't have any reason to trust me. But I have this for you. You must want it back?"
He held out the digi-frame, looking away towards the stars and two moons. A few minutes passed in silence and his arm was starting to get tired.
Then there was movement inside the tank and the soft creak of the hatch opening. The digi-frame was snatched from his hand and the hatch clunked shut. Inside, reverberating oddly off the metal, he heard the voices of mother and daughter chanting again.
"Blood Dragons, Blood Dragons 1-2-3!"
Uli'Rann shut his eyes and turned off his audio-receivers. He tried to remember his own single parent. He recalled a man with a talrin like his own, deep-blue and covered in curling lines like the waves of the ocean, standing in a doorway and making a complex series of hand signals too him.
His father had been deaf, the result of an ear-infection at birth and used Kelish Sign language to speak. Maz'Rann pointed at his visor, the eyes underneath it, then waved away slightly.
"See you later, Uli," his father was signing, then with a tap over his heart he added, "papa loves you." It was the last time he'd seen his father. The Migrant Fleet had been confronted by a flotilla of turian ships as they left FTL. The system they'd intruded on wasn't even colonized yet but the Hierarchy moved on a war-footing as if the quarians were invading. It was a hard shift to turn back and avoid an incident.
The smaller cruisers had tried to move around an asteroid belt to give the liveships space. The noise had been awful, a hundred heavy bangs from all directions. Uli'Rann pushed the thoughts away. It was all beyond his power. He should be grateful really the hull breach was so far from his living quarters.
Still, he had to sit in the cubby a very long time before someone thought to come tell him his father was gone.
The hatch creaked open.
His night-vision projector showed him a shining eye in the dark, with tresses of hair moving like shadowy vines before the sun.
"Are you hurt?" The hatch almost shut. Almost.
"My ankle," a little voice croaked, "I think I twisted it." 'Twisted' was not a word any quarian liked to hear but after an instantaneous extranet check on what precisely an 'ankle' was he calmed down. A muscle sprain or strain of some kind. Nothing life-threatening.
"That's too bad," Uli said, "Uli'Rann vas Gorach nar Vazord."
"I…I think my translator is broken or something." She gasped a little as Uli laughed.
"No, little one," he chuckled, "it works fine." He tapped his chest. "Uli. You can call me Uli." The hatch swung out a little bit and both her eyes were visible, staring wide and fascinated at his hand. Uli waggled his fingers. "Do you know what I am?" Her dirty hair swayed as she shook her head, poking a little more out of the water tank.
"Have you ever heard of quarians?" Her eyes widened a little as she nodded. "Oh? What do you know?"
"You can't live without your suits?" She said. After a flicker of hesitation she pushed the hatch door open and settled her chin on the edge of the water tank. "You get really sick without them."
"Yes," Uli said, "very sick. What else?" The girl's eyes roved over him, taking in his suit and the fabric of his talrin.
"You all live on ships," she continued, searching his visor for the face hidden under it, maybe trying to see if her words were having a reaction, "the Migrating Fleet?"
"The Migrant Fleet."
"That's what I said," she grumbled, "and…" she stopped short and ducked her head. As they'd been talking Uli had been fast downloading any quarian-focused etiquette manuals he could find for human body language. They were expressive people and said as much with a look as quarians did with a speech.
He decided she was embarrassed. Her little squirms said his silence was making her more uncomfortable.
"And?" he asked.
"Mr. Potter down the road said quarians steal jobs but-but I never believed that!" His voice-light blinked as he began to laugh. This was, apparently, a good response by the way the girl leaned back out to watch him. Uli beckoned.
"Why don't you come out now, little one," he said, "and let me have a look at that 'ankle'." He didn't need the manual to tell him she was suspicious and afraid. But the fact that she didn't slam the hatch door shut gave him hope. He pulled his hand back. "Or not. Should I go away?"
"No," she said, "is there anybody else?"
"Yes," Uli said, preparing to say that Prazza and Hana'Nur where nearby as well as a team of other quarians. She began pelting him with questions before he could explain himself.
"How many? Who? How'd they get away?" Uli realized she'd meant the colonists.
"Oh," he smacked the side of his helmet lightly, "I'm such a fool! No. No one else. I thought you meant…there are other quarians here, little one, but…"
She shrank back slowly, her heartbreak clear by the little whimpers of breath that started bobbing out of her.
"I'm sorry," Uli said, "we haven't found anyone else."
"That can't be."
"Your mother…" Uli began.
"I know." She didn't sound sad, Uli might've been able to handle that, but it was the defeated, tired way she said the words that cut him to the core. Parents were invincible. Immortal. Children deserved to learn better over time as they grew not in one horrible hour of loss. And, if what he'd seen of her mother gave him hints, this girl had lost someone who must've seemed more enduring than the Earth.
"I'm so sorry," he said, "do you need anything? Can I bring you something?" She blinked and nodded.
"A blanket? It's cold in here."
"Of course," he began to rise.
"Wait!" She looked at him as if he might vanish. "What…what do you want?" Uli crouched down to be level with her and folded his hands.
"Right now," he said, hoping that the strangeness of his voice and the lilt of his modulator wouldn't stop his earnestness from reaching her, "I want to help you, little one." She was struggling to believe him and, Uli'Rann hoped, she wanted a reason to trust him. "Do you know why we live in ships?"
"You don't a have a planet."
"No-no," he shook his head, "we do. It's called Rannoch. And we've only ever seen it in pictures and paintings and old vids. My parents never saw it. My grandparents never saw it. No one on the flotilla has ever been to our homeworld." She shuffled closer to the hatch, entranced. "I know that I'll never see it. Though I might live to be an old, old man. I know I'll never go there." Uli bared this secret to her easily. It wasn't something quarians liked to say.
"I went to Earth," she offered, "I never thought I'd see it…"
Prazza might've spat on that. Many quarians would have called it pity and rejected it. The wound of exile was slow to heal if it ever did. Uli'Rann did not feel that way. Uli'Rann heard a child, one bereft of her own home, trying in her little way to give him hope. It was kindness.
And in a universe that stole a little boy's father with an asteroid or a little girl's mother with a gunshot Uli'Rann thought it was valuable even if no one else did.
"Thank you," he meant it, "I would like to see it very much." He tried to make eye contact with her through his visor, reading off the manual that humans appreciated that, and went on. "If I am lying to you then may I never see the shores of the desert seas as Tikkun shines through the great arches of stone. May I never see Rannoch."
The shudder that went through him as he made the vow was easier to ignore when the girl held out her hand to him. Narrower than his own with five slender fingers. Dirt had turned her fingernails black and there were stains that his VI warned him carried the bacterial dangers of levo-amino blood.
"I'm a little stuck," she admitted. He took her hand, feeling the tight pressure of her grip through his suit as she clasped at his forearm.
"I'll help you," he said. She used the leverage to free her other arm and held that one out as well, grabbing at the air eagerly for assistance. Her trust lifted Uli'Rann's heart and he used his considerable strength to help her wriggle free of the water tank.
"Oh-oh," he said as she kicked her feet free of the hatch, "let's be careful with that ankle." He backed up, holding her gently at the elbows so she could slide out from the crawlspace. She was only wearing one boot the other foot was bare and startlingly white in the dark. She bent one of her oddly-shaped knees to keep the pressure off it.
"Can you walk?"
"Yeah," she said, relinquishing his arms with reluctance, "thanks."
"Of course. Come on. My friend Hana'Nur is very smart. She'll know what to do about your ankle." The girl put her hand on the prefab to keep balance as she made tender progress ahead of him. She kept glancing behind her like she was certain he'd vanish. He was about to ask her mother's name when they rounded the to the front of the prefab and the girl gasped.
She shrank awkwardly back against the corner of the building and shot Uli a twisted little look of what his VI described as mistrust.
"Ach," Uli blurted, "Prazza!" He gave the girl a wide berth to avoid making her feel trapped but stopped short as he turned the corner and found himself seeing down the pinhole muzzle of a Carnifex pistol. "Prazza, what are you doing?" His instincts screamed at him to seek cover. Prazza's hands were trembling around the weapon.
"I'll cover you," Prazza said, voice heavy with deep, nervous breathing, "get the amp off of her."
"Uli?" the girl asked.
"It's alright, Jane," he said, not taking his eyes off the younger quarian, "it's alright. Nothing is going to happen. Prazza, go back to the road and keep watch."
"You two don't realize what they can do with just a thought," Prazza's gun shook as he spoke, "no-one does. They're monsters."
"We don't have them anymore," Uli allowed, "but we used to have biotics amongst our people as well."
"They think the galaxy is there for them to take," Prazza hissed, "move, Uli. Take the amp off of her."
"Prazza'Vael," Uli said, almost begging, "there has been enough death on this planet, don't you think? Enough violence. Just give me your gun slowly and take a seat." The lights along the pistol's chamber were a searing red with the heat of the thermal clip inside. "Prazza. I'm coming over to you now. Nice and slow."
"Uli, we have to think of our people," Prazza said, "we can't fight her if she's got the amp. She'll be too powerful. You saw the varren." Uli took another step forward, almost in grasping range of the pistol.
"I didn't mean to-" Jane started protesting.
"D-don't move!"
"Prazza," Uli raised his voice, "Prazza, if you pull that trigger I have to report you."
"Don't you move," Prazza said quietly, "I've seen your tricks. I know what you can do." He wasn't there with them anymore. Uli guessed he was back on Omega, pointing a weapon at the stranger who'd nearly taken his life.
"Prazza, that's a little girl you're pointing your gun at," Uli'Rann said, freezing in place to avoid provoking a response, "a little girl. If she were a quarian she'd just barely be old enough to get her first envirosuit. Do you understand?"
"She's no quarian…"
"But she's still a little girl. Prazza'Vael, I know you don't want to kill a child."
"I…," Prazza started, voice shaking, "I'm scared of her."
"I know," Uli lifted one foot to begin the last long step, "it's ok. You've got nothing to be scared of." Prazza'Vael turned his head toward Uli and seemed ready to speak more when a sharp yelp turned them both back around. Jane's face twisted with pain and she stumbled on her bad ankle. She nearly tumbled to the ground but managed to make a limping effort to sprint for the tall grass.
Uli was moving before he made the choice to act. His hands snapped over Pazza's wrists and wrenched upwards. The first shot thudded somewhere behind him and at the same moment he heard the girl shriek in pain. The second shot pinged off the shack roof and the last two whizzed across the sky like red meteorites.
The smoke from the super-heated barrel snaked upwards as the quarians wrestled for control of the gun. The girl was whimpering and scrabbling on the ground.
Her ankle. Uli forced himself to think. Just her ankle. Just a little fall. Oh, Keelah, let it just be her ankle.
"Hana'Nur vas Shepherd!" Uli'Rann's externals crackled and whined as he screamed. "Hana, help me!" They were inside each other's shields and if Prazza wasn't a quarian Uli might've had the advantage. Prazza'Vael knew where the battle armor didn't cover and relinquished the grip of his pistol to punch Uli under his chest piece right where his stomach started.
His suit VI warned him of mild trauma. The wind rushed from him and fogged up his visor. Prazza kicked the back of his knee and Uli crumpled with a groan. He was getting old if Prazza'Vael could take him down.
"Prazza," he gasped, "leave her!"
"Stop!" Prazza shouted. "I'll-oh, shit!"
Uli got to his knees in time to see the girl twist around to face them. She lay on her side, one hand pressed to the mud to keep her sitting up and the other outstretched. It had been years since Uli faced a biotic but he hadn't forgotten the shimmer of dark blue energy. Tiny mass effect fields were commanded by sheer will and he was already too late to move.
The wave that hit them wasn't like air or strong water. No-one who'd never faced the reality-bending force of a biotic push could easily understand how it felt to have your mind assaulted by the sensation that, despite all appearances, a solid wall was shoving you backwards.
Maybe she was tired. Maybe her powers were weaker without the horrible stimuli of her mother's dead body. Maybe, Uli liked to believe, she didn't want to hurt them badly. Either way they both got very lucky. Uli slid forward four feet, his whole front digging deep into the muddy soil. Prazza sailed off his feet and landed three yards away. He gave a cry of terror and scuttled even further to the middle of the road before spiraling upwards and leveling his gun at the girl.
"Not this time!" he howled. The girl tried hopping away but her bad ankle gave out underneath her. Prazza aimed and Uli was still too disoriented to do more than sputter a helpless plea.
As Prazza'Vael pulled the trigger the Carnifex pistol shrieked steam through both chamber vents and flashed its lights in warning. An orange glow to Prazza's left caught Uli's attention. Hana'Nur stood at the prefab's horizontal windows, her omni-tool pressed to the glass. Uli could feel the cold, pitiless stare behind the opaque mask and understood a moment later when the steam pouring from Prazza's gun became a high-pitched keen.
"Throw it away!" Uli stumbled to his feet and charged Prazza. "Throw it away!" Prazza stared stupidly at his malfunctioning weapon but, for once, listened.
He turned, hurled the pistol at a middle arc that got it ten yards away when there was a snapping sound and bang like a grenade going off. The red flash of the explosion made Uli see spots. Pellets of sands stored inside the thermal-clip shot outward at high speed and perforated the ground in a hundred places. Tall grass shredded and steamed.
Prazza'Vael's shields flared around him but the shock wave knocked him flat on his back. He lay there groaning miserably as Uli's emergency sound-dampening protocol turned off his audio intake.
Uli'Rann trembled when he looked up to find Hana'Nur gone from the window. His mind reeled. His old friend was coarse. She did not suffer fools long. But to endanger a quarian life was beyond even her darkness.
Isn't it?
The sound of the girl growling in pain was a welcome distraction. Uli got to his feet and walked over.
"Jane?" Jane held out a hand in threat, eyelids fluttering and head lolling.
"Stay away," she rasped, "just leave me alone..."
"Jane!" Uli turned. Hana'Nur's shadow preceded her as she flung open the prefab's backdoor. Warm light spilled out from it and she jogged down the backsteps and pushed Uli back.
The dazed human's hand lowered, and she blinked up at the newcomer.
"Jane, are you alright? Oh. You poor thing." Hana'Nur strode forward and knelt close to her. "Jane? Do your ears hurt? That was very loud, wasn't it?" Hana'Nur waved her hand furtively at Uli, shooing him away. He backed up from the scene. Hana'Nur continued to fuss over Jane.
Jane relaxed and Uli felt a pang sadness as he realized what had happened. Jane hadn't heard her own name in probably two days. And a woman's voice speaking gently to her must've been her dearest wish. Hana'Nur was laying on the charm.
Thank you, Uli thought to the spirit of her mother, thank you for guiding us to this moment. Hana'Nur was touching her face softly, looking her over.
"Oh, Jane," Hana'Nur said, almost sounding like a frustrated but fond parent, "look at you. You're a mess. Come inside, dear. Let's get you cleaned up." Hana'Nur helped the girl stand and put an arm around her shoulder. His VI resumed explaining certain human practices as he watched them enter the prefab.
Pressure. Touch. Being physically connected. All common and vital practice, the manual told him, to ensuring that humans felt safe and secure. A part of him wanted to believe it wasn't clever Hana'Nur manipulating the girl into safety but another part of him argued it was the best course of action.
But as he collected the dazed Prazza'Vael and considered the black mark on the road he couldn't help but wonder. Jane was safe with Hana'Nur, that much he believed. It was the rest of the universe he worried for.
"Captain Yun'Razi," he coughed as the comm-link opened, "we had a small weapons malfunction here. Everyone is fine but I'm walking Prazza to the Sherpherd so he can rest." Uli breathed out the stress of the last hour.
"We found someone, Captain. A survivor. Her name is Jane." He looked back at the pair as they stepped into the light of the prefab. Their silhouettes took away their differences and for a moment, they could've been mother and child.