Allen,

As we waited in the terminal, a news report flashed on a nearby panel. It was about us, coincidentally, the students chosen from Earth to attend the Citadel University with a full scholarship. The author was obviously biased; he said the venture was doomed to failure, and the sooner humans realize they are no longer welcomed in Citadel space, the better for everyone. They cited terrible actions that humanity was responsible for, including the death of hundreds of thousands of batarians.

It's true to say that the actions of one can overshadow us all. One person, whether under duress or caught up in desperate circumstances, makes one decision, and the consequences ripple down throughout the years and are felt across the known universe.

Maybe what they say is true. Maybe Cerberus was really a front for a secret government agenda. We heard nothing but bad things about them, when we even got any news, anyway. But none of it signifies now, not when we are all broken.

Can't they see we'd be better off fighting together for our survival?

Mariah

Chapter 2

I would have liked to have seen the Citadel as we approached, but we were traveling in a modified cargo ship, and necessity allowed for few luxuries. The tiny windows installed throughout the interior showed nothing but distant stars. Instead of cursing our approach vector, I attempted to quell the nervousness by turning to my book, something that Molly herself would have done. She was an avid reader of poetry, though it was not "steady reading" as her father called it. I wondered what she would think of her biography, if she could jump into this outer dimension.

When the docking process began, several passengers started to round up their belongings in anticipation. I took one last glance at my itinerary to confirm the next destination, a shuttle launch pad just outside of the docking bay. We were to meet at Shuttle Pad 22, where we would be taken to our dormitories. The transport docked without ceremony, except for a few announcements made in several languages I could not understand, and I gathered my things while helping Sylvie with her multiple overstuffed bags which put my single duffel bag to shame. We debarked the ship in an avalanche of people, all human. I scanned the crowd, and it wasn't difficult to spot the other prospective students. For most of them, their attire was a dead giveaway, worn and shabby in comparison to the travel clothes of humanity's most fortunate. Typical visitors of the Citadel were wealthy or connected to various government organizations like dignitaries and military personnel.

I stayed with Sylvie as we entered the docking bay proper. There were signs, displays, vid screens and any primitive to advanced technology possible scattered around the area. My eyes attempted to take it all in, but the flashing lights and echoing sounds only made me feel dizzy and I nearly lost my grip on the luggage. Sylvie tapped me on the arm to get my attention and pointed to her data pad. She had pulled up a map of our location, probably even supplied along with the itinerary. I was always terrible with directions, and I was glad at that moment I had chosen to sit with her. She smiled and pointed out a direction, and I followed.

It wasn't difficult for me to notice that we were being followed. My instincts picked it up fairly quickly, and they also told me it was not a threat. The other students had taken the cue from Sylvie, and were following us towards the shuttle platforms. We wound our way through the crowd, and as it thinned, our group became a collection of fifteen. There was another, and I eventually spotted her, keeping several paces behind but following nonetheless.

There were two uniformed men waiting at pad 22, possibly the pilots. Matching visors and jumpsuits told me nothing about their affiliation. We loaded onto a shuttle, which in actuality was more like a large skycar. I had my doubts that this vehicle would actually hold up in the vacuum of space. On the way to our destination, I regarded each student with scrutiny. Most of them were easy to read; mild mannered, nervous, and curious. Others were standoffish, planting their feet apart and crossing arms, staring straight ahead and glaring daggers at anyone who dared to look at them. I was unobtrusive in my information-seeking curiosity, careful not to look to long, fully aware that they all may have years of horrific memories locked behind icy eyes. Like me, they had kept the nightmares at bay with years of hard work as a distraction.

They dropped us at the mid-level of a new building and we filed out of the shuttle. Our entourage was then crammed into two elevators, along with all of our belongings intended to sustain us for four years of student-hood. After the elevators, we were led into a wide hallway where two woman waited, false smiles on their faces. They were introduced only as "attendants", with no names.

The pilots left us in the hands of the attendants, and I inspected my new residence as the attendsnts led us down a hallway and into two larger rooms which were connected. Our group of sixteen had the entire corridor to ourselves, they said, and from a tactical standpoint I saw the wisdom. The long hallway had three exit points, each with obvious video surveillance. One exit even led to a platform large enough to land a shuttle, a point of evacuation if the situation ever arose. There were two common areas, one set with two large tables with chairs and the other with couches, desks, shelves. A large screen covered one of the corner walls and the adjacent wall was made entirely of a view port. Several of the students congregated at the window and admired the view.

After a few minutes of exploration, the attendants led us from the common areas to a hallway with doors on either side, labeled with numbers. She listed names at each door, assigning our sleeping areas. She told us we were allowed to change roommates as we chose, but we should inform the attendants. I was assigned with a girl named Kyla Derringer, but she quickly made it known that she wanted to room with someone else, and so I was assigned to live with the other cast-off. As luck would have it, Sylvie was my new roommate, and I felt

warmth on the back of my neck when she smiled at me.

The room was small, smartly arranged, as if a mirror stood between the two sides. Both beds were up on lofts in opposite corners of the room. Underneath was a desk, chair and a small bookshelf. A panel on the wall was a false window – common on the Citadel and in prefab structures. The light was simulated to look like the natural path of the sun. Below the window was a small couch, although sensible, obviously not made for comfort. I threw my bag on the couch and opened the sliding door closet on my chosen side of the room. One side was for hanging clothing with a small shelf above, the other side contained a dresser with a lock-safe on top. Instructions for programming were printed on the inside.

The couch had two drawers beneath it. There were two bookshelves standing as supports to the loft, stairs at the end of the bed. I was happy to see there would be enough space for me to both stand up beneath the loft and sit up on the bed without hitting my head. Another concern was the shower, and though small, it was adequate. The shared bathroom also had two cupboards beneath the sink for toiletries and a small mirror above the sink.

After allowing us to gain our bearings they escorted us down to a market area. For being an indoor complex the place was vast. You could stand in the exact middle and not see the end from any direction. They told us this was the student's main shopping area and we could find anything we needed or desired in this single location. We were all handed chits that contained a weekly allowance which would be refreshed before the school week began. There were food vendors, shops and also a student supply store where they took us in and passed out omni-tools, data pads, notebooks, battery packs and other various items. They led us through a couple of the shops where we could buy clothes, snacks or anything else. With the money raised by my community and what I had from selling my pistol I bought a few clothing items to supplement what meager items I already had.

As we headed back to the living quarters, many of the students were eying the food vendors. The attendants told us there would be a meal waiting for us when we returned, where we would also be introduced to our hosts.

A blond boy elbowed me and grinned. "I feel a bit like a kid, how about you?"

"I suppose."

"I'm Derek."

"Mariah."

"Didn't think this was what it would be like when I signed up," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I don't think anyone knew what to expect." I glanced around the group, varying expressions on the faces of the other students. Derek nodded, noting he had followed my train of thought.

"They're all afraid. All except you."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

"I've been watching you since we got of the transport, how you measured up the group, how you mapped out the exits, noted their locations."

He had been watching me, and the thought made the tips of my fingers tingle. "What does that make you, then?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "It makes us the same. Think about it. The reason why I noticed what you were doing was because I was doing the same thing."

"Old habit, I guess."

"Truth, my friend. Truth."

"So if we're alike, then, does that mean you're not afraid of all this?"

"Something like that. Perception is everything."

He had sized me up quickly, and I found it disconcerting that I hadn't noticed him watching me. I assumed that my classmates would be automatically allies, on my side, and that assumption could lead to a fatal mistake. Maybe he was warning me to watch my back, or maybe he was telling me he had mine if I had his. I couldn't say. He was maddeningly difficult to read, for someone like me especially, who believed my fate could be determined on my ability to read someone's intentions by their stance and demeanor. Subtle body language spoke volumes about a person, even if they were trying to hide it. This guy had swept under my radar, and I couldn't help but think that it was his hard-earned skills that kept him from being noticed unless he desired it.

When we got back to the dormatory, there were two people waiting for us. Mrs. Jackson and Evan Carter, as they were introduced, would be our "hosts". They had rooms at the end of the hall and were available at any time, for any reason. Employed by the embassy, their official titles went something like "Officer of Human Relations in Higher Education for the Forgotten Generation". It was a long-winded dirge to the political importance of our presence on the Citadel. Between the two of them they had every language of the group covered.

They ate with us, the paltry meal of bread, potatoes and carrots, and a beef broth with small bits of meat sitting at the bottom of the bowl. The group seemed perturbed about the meagerness, but I saw the wisdom in it. A system accustomed to eating smaller rations over the course of many years would be shocked by the sudden influx of rich food, and those who have been hungry every one of those days would find it hard to restrict themselves.

After the meal the hosts stood up and asked us to introduce ourselves. We went around the table and gave names, home towns, and a few random facts like Derek's enthusiastic "I love to play baseball!" and Sylvie's "Music, any kind," and the hosts translated everything for the group. When it came to my turn, I could only think of one thing.

"Reading. I like to read books, stories, anything really." Which wasn't completely the truth, but easier than spending fifteen minutes describing my eclectic and varied tastes. Over the years, reading had become my one escape from the dimness of reality. I loved to hear about the stories of characters I would never meet, people so different from me and lives far, far away in this world or others.

When we were finished Mrs. Jackson clasped her hands together and cleared her throat. "As you all have noticed, there are attendants around to see to your comfort. As you are new to the Citadel, we are also here to be your guides. We will escort you to and from your classes for the next few weeks. It is easy to get lost in a place as vast as this one, and the guidelines we have given you are not without wisdom or reason. However, as you learn your way around this place and we become confident in your knowledge we will allow you more freedom, and by your second term you will be able to come and go as you please, on your own if you wish. These rules are for your safety and adherence to them a condition of your scholarship. Please keep that in mind."

And with that we were dismissed. Some lingered in the common room, some cloistered themselves in their assigned rooms. I sat next to Sylvie on one of the plush couches in the common room, playing around with the multiple functions on my new omni-tool. Sometimes she would giggle at me and shake her head, then point to an indicator or a holographic button. Her eyes brightened as a thought seemed to overtake her and she whisked her own device through a series of screens and selections. She then held out her arm to me and nodded her head, but I was confused.

"What? What do you want?"

As I spoke her display flickered with my words in English, then immediately switched to French. She propped herself up on her knees excitedly.

"Wow, you brilliant girl. That's pretty clever." She flushed when she read the translation of my words, then quickly spoke her own reply which her screen in turn transfigured into English.

"Not brilliant, just lucky."

We spent the next hour having a conversation in short, quipped sentences, learning things about each other such as our favorite color, birthday, names of siblings and parents. Innocuous things, that could have lead into dangerous zones, but we were both pleasantly limited by the language barrier and had no thought of taking it any further.

She told me she was born and lived all her life in France, in a small providence I could not pronounce. She loved music, could play the violin and piano well, though she hadn't had that opportunity in quite a while. Her parents encouraged her to sign up for the scholarship, a chance for her to apply her brilliant mind to something better suited for her than working in a factory. She told me nearly everyone in the town worked in the factories, starting the day they turned sixteen. I tried to imagine myself in the workroom of a textiles factory, spending hour after hour in the same repetitive motion, day after day.

At least in my town we were allowed to change jobs as it suited us. In the earlier days we had an assigned rotation of duties, but we were never forced to do something endlessly. It was slowly becoming more like it was before, a capitalist free-market where business owners would succeed and fail based on their hard work, lust for success, and just a little bit of luck. Most people could provide for themselves and their families, but the soup kitchen was still in operation to supplement for food. No one was required, but everyone volunteered and donated extra resources to help the community. There was a free store, even, where you could leave unwanted articles and exchange them for something someone else left behind. You could choose not to participate in programs benefiting the community, but everyone would eventually know about it. If there was a true desperation behind the act they would be forgiven and overlooked. If not, they would be known as greedy, not associated with and it would be a hard fight for that person to get help from others if they needed it at a later time. Even after the use of money had been re-introduced, people still bartered everything from their time to their lands, scraps of metal and synthetic materials to food and crops grown from prized gardens.

The next morning we all loaded onto the shuttle. Most were still rubbing their bleary eyes, suffering from a hard night's sleep in a new place. We were instructed to wear our best, which for me meant the same clothing I had worn yesterday, and I certainly wasn't the only one. Sylvie was simplistically dazzling in a pale blue floor-length dress, a style which never ceased to frustrate me in its sheer ridiculousness. How could anyone work, or for that matter, defend themselves in something so impractical? The girl was already blushing when I went to sit next to her. The other students had noticed and some hadn't kept their opinions to themselves. Some were in words I couldn't understand but it wasn't hard to discern their meanings or intent through the tones they exhibited and looks they gave her.

"You look nice," I said, resting my hand on her wrist. "Nicer than any of us by far. They're just jealous."

She simply nodded, but didn't look at me. She hadn't even attempted to translate my words, but she understood my own intent of comforting her. It was true, though, that they were jealous. When they saw her they didn't see a girl who had toiled in factories since she was sixteen. They saw the cleanliness of her fingernails, her clothing, her hair, and made a judgment. They thought she was wealthy, that she didn't belong among the group of destitute students searching for a way out of lives going nowhere.

"Ma mere a fait," she said, her words barely audible. My omni-toll flashed the translation.

"Your mother made it?" She nodded. It made sense. Working in a textile factory would give her access to materials, to the skills to create a garment of high quality.

We were led to a room with three tables in the shape of a U. There was a small platform in the front, a podium in the center. Moments later, Ambassador Julien came through the door, flanked by Alliance officers in dress blues and others in full gear, weapons and all. She was not a beautiful woman, her face mauled by a burn and scars. Her hair was going gray at the temples. What struck me was her poise, the straight-backed pride and blazing eyes full of determination. She was not full of zealous hope or pointless endearments. Her words rang with truth, and even those who needed to consult their omni-tools for a translation of her words absorbed her demeanor through the atmosphere in the room.

"Greetings, students. I welcome you to the Citadel. As citizens of the Systems Alliance, we have a long road ahead of us, and your generation will inherit what is left of our world, our dominion.

"I won't lie to you," she said, and waited as the interpreters caught up with her speech. "This will not be an easy road. There are those who would like to see you fail. Unfortunately, your successes and failures will be reported to the council. I don't mean to place pressure on you, but this is very important. Your time here will determine whether or not this program continues.

"I have done my best to make sure the media will not bother you, but it is probable that reports will be leaked, perhaps even pictures or video footage. To that effect, I say this. Be on your guard, at all times, especially out in the public. We are in a delicate situation, we are balancing on the rafters of an unstable roof, and any wrong step or twist of the ankle could be disastrous for us all." She paused, shifting on her feet, her lips pursing in a grimace. I knew that expression well, of someone in pain trying to hold it back. She continued, undaunted.

"The first semester of your tenure here will involve acclimation to Citadel life, introduction to cultures and peoples with whom we share the galaxy. I know many, if not all of you haven't had an education much beyond middle school, but I have full faith in the curriculum that was created here to both bring you up to speed, as well as prepare you for the careers of your choice.

"As stated in your contracts you all signed at your prospective Embassies on Earth, you are free to leave at any time. We understand that circumstances may call you elsewhere, however, you will have to provide your own transportation other than what is arranged at holidays. If you are absent from the program for an entire semester, your scholarship will be revoked and you won't be allowed to return. Likewise, you will also be required to follow all guidelines, fulfill all duties set before you by your hosts whom you will soon meet. If your conduct is deemed unsatisfactory, you will be discharged from the program. This is not just a free ride to the Citadel, as some of your predecessors assumed."

I recalled the story of the first group, then, and wondered at why we had heard nothing about them in the subsequent years. Perhaps they all had failed, and had been sent home.

She stepped down from the podium and we applauded, as politeness would dictate, despite the warning in her voice at the final words. The ambassador was gracious, reassuring, took time to speak with each one of us. I didn't have much to say to her, other than the usual pleasantries. I thanked her for the opportunity, and couldn't shake the feeling that she was sizing me up, just as Derek had done. She gave me a curt nod before moving down the line to the next student. We were dismissed later, and a feeling of cautious optimism radiated from the group.

I listened to some of the whispers around me with my translator on, noticing that some were overly concerned as to who wanted us to fail. They also wondered at the wisdom of telling us something that would cause fear amongst the group. Some students were already saying they would go home, that they hadn't signed up to be political pawns. Not me, though. I liked knowing where I stood. Knowledge of our position had the opposite effect on me; it prepared me for the worst. There are those who would like to see you fail. It was a warning, mildly delivered, but it served to put me on my guard.

I watched as Derek circled the group, resting his hand on the shoulders of some, offering words to others. It might have appeared as sympathy to some, but not to me. The guy was smart. If the group had confidence instead of fear, our chances of survival were higher. Fear often separated groups that would be stronger in standing together. It would separate and corner the weakest, much like a predator in the wild, and take them out one by one. The loss of the weak would tear at the morale of the strongest, and the predator would have less defenses to withstand when they finally went in for the kill.

When Derek reached Sylvie, I saw her look at him with something more than the release of fear in her face. I looked away. Personal connection was foolish, another flaw to be exploited. I had learned my own lesson in the past, and admittedly, on more than one occasion. There were but two people in the entirety of the galaxy I trusted completely, and as one of them was myself, that left the other slot for my brother, Allen, who was as far away from me as anyone could possibly be.

I would be congenial, cordial, kind even. I would practice any and all social conventions as the situation required, but behind them all would always be selfishness. Survival was all that mattered. I looked at Sylvie and saw danger. Perhaps it would be better, for the both of us, if I stayed distant, but something about her drew me in, made me want to protect her. She seemed a figment unsullied by all the vice in the universe. She had a natural shield to it, even to the sorrows everyone had simultaneously faced. It would be a risk, to seek her friendship, and I saw possibilities of this folly fall into place in my constant imagination, spelling disaster in many formidable ways.

However, there was a chance, a slim one, that it could beget something good. And I felt how the Universe owed me, that in the grand cosmic scale of good and bad karma, in the way humans seem to justify such things, I was due for something good. So against my better judgment, against the silent warning voice inside of my head that told me to stay away, I went and sat down next to her, offering the most hopeful smile I was able to bestow.