Friction - Chapter Eight
Naveed waited, courteous but uncomfortable, for the crowd to clear out of the Matriarch's chamber after the funeral service. He stood some distance from her gilded door, silently questioning the propriety of his presence amongst the asari mourners. Their reflected blue forms moved across the polished floor like water, while he, the one bright spot in the room, stood as an island in a sea of sorrow. Few times in his life had he felt as alien as he did then, scrutinized as he was by each of the attending women. He could only bow his head in response to their questioning glances, painfully aware of how little comfort the action offered.
For the most part, the asari were strangers to him, all friends and extended family that Kilandra had grown up with, but the Matriarch herself was another story. Ever since their introduction three years prior, the two shared a comfortable rapport - a certain understanding he lacked the words to properly identify.
Every time they spoke the woman's wisdom astounded him; her patience knew no limits and her intuitive mind could put his thoughts to words better than he could. She often provided sanctuary for him during his and Kilandra's rougher moments, offering a patient ear, kind words and - during their physical meetings - the hot jasmine tea she loved. Naveed hoped the only tea today would be poured in memory of Kilandra's sister Lyla, but somehow he knew Ohari would see right through him the moment he passed through her doorway.
He cleared his throat and inclined his head yet again at a pair of softly-weeping asari departing the chamber. They returned the gesture and exited the hall, leaving him alone in the ornate foyer. He shifted the bouquet of lilies he carried into the crook of his arm and adjusted his jacket with his free hand. A frown creased his features when he realized his smooth palm was slick with sweat.
"Naveed?" a warm voiced called.
The drell composed himself and turned to find a frail-looking asari approaching him. Her aging face spread into a smile and her long-fingered hands reached out for his. Naveed passed his gift of flowers to the elder asari's attendant before bowing deeply and letting her take his hands. Ohari's fading blue eyes inspected his scaled skin as she rubbed the soft center of his palm with her thumbs. She put pressure on the pads of his hands and between the joints of his fingers, searching for some sign of vital energy that only ancient souls could see.
"Good health," the Matriarch said at last, nodding to herself in approval, "Tense though."
She released his hands and looked up at him with a cleansing sigh of pride and relief. "I thought you might not come."
Naveed put his hands to the sides of his face, lifting them over his eyes, forehead, and down the back of his finned head in a gesture common to the priesthood of Arashu. It was a sign of respect, of accepting and enveloping oneself in the spiritual presence of another.
"I was uncertain you would want to see me during this time," he explained quietly, "It has been a long wait for word of Lyla."
"What happened on the Citadel was a tragedy," Ohari agreed with wrinkled brow, "but I am grateful for the closure. We can continue our lives in peace now."
The pair stood in sympathetic silence, eying each other until the venerable asari finally spread her arms to embrace him. "Come here, you beautiful boy."
Naveed smiled and let the woman wrap him in a tight hug, enjoying the way his chin rested perfectly on the top her head. Ohari was small but spirited, and he loved her as he did his own mother. He let the asari rest her cheek on his chest, where she could hear his heartbeat and draw from him the strength that her failing body needed.
"You have ever been a kind soul, Naveed," she said when she drew away at last, "It is a great comfort to me to have you here; I would never want you to feel unwelcome in my home."
Ohari waved away her attendant and gestured toward her room. "Come and let us talk. I sense we have much to discuss."
.oO-Oo.
"Ugh. Made it…" Blair muttered to herself as she rounded the corner leading into her travel cabin. She bent over one of the twin bench seats and let a struggling Una roll out of her arms before sitting stiffly near the twittering mech. As she leaned her head back to rest, she heard a rattling inside her backpack and sighed in response.
"I have to go take my pill, Una," the woman declared as she reluctantly took to her feet again, "You stay here and don't bother anyone, okay? Just look out the window or something. I'll be back in a minute."
The droid bleeped an affirmation and rolled to the far side of the seat where a thick window revealed the whirling white outside. A soft smile came to Blair's lips as she watched Una focus her ocular lens and peer, child-like, into the snow outside the shuttle. She knew it didn't matter to the AI that the view wasn't particularly pleasing - aesthetic appreciation was an organic concept - but it still bothered her that she wasn't able to offer the curious mech more interesting experiences. Una had been designed to learn, after all, and the restrictive reach of the law left Blair little room to teach.
The woman ran her hand across Una's chassis fondly then headed for the bathroom compartments at the back of the ship. After slowly working her way through the other passengers, she managed to slip her pack off her shoulders and slide into one of the tiny chambers. She locked the door and rummaged through her bag for her prescription, doing the best she could to mind the cramped quarters. The last thing she needed was to jut out her bionic arm and break yet another bathroom appliance, especially one that didn't belong to her…
Blair's hands went to the sides of her face in a sudden huff of anxiety.
"Oh get a grip, already!" she growled in annoyance, "You haven't gone through all that trouble with security just to back out now, and if you do, you'll never be able to see that doctor with a straight face again." She forced her hands to the sides of the sink and her eyes to her reflection. "It's not that far, and you've flown safely before. Just take the meds and get back to your seat before the engines start."
The logic of the pep-talk calmed her enough that she pushed her bangs behind her ears and took a deep breath through her nose the way the Naveed had taught her to. She turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face with her good hand, letting it draw away the heat that prickled its way up her neck. The feel of the droplets running down her face tickled, like the drell's fingertips when he smoothed her hair before putting her to sleep. She found it oddly comforting, and as her breathing returned to normal, she managed to straighten up and shakily pull out her pill bottle.
She counted out two of the pale pink tablets and placed them in her mouth. Using her hand as a makeshift cup, she brought water to her lips and swallowed them down. Even after years of medicating this way, her body still fought the motion with a weak gag reflex. As she grimaced and concentrated on keeping the meds down, she felt the shuttle shudder to life beneath her feet. Her eyes widened and she zipped her bag hurriedly, eager to be back in the stability of her seat before motion sickness made her stomach roil even more.
She swung her pack onto her back and shook her hand free of excess water before cracking the door to exit. When it latched into place behind her, an icon at the front of the ship lit up.
"Attention passengers: Please be seated…"
"I'm going, I'm going," Blair complained as she wormed her way past a room housing a tired-looking salarian. She thought she heard him snicker at her comment, but with all the conversations going on around her she couldn't be sure. She sidled closer to her cabin, where the noise had reached an abnormal level. When she realized most of the commotion was coming from her room, her heart skipped a beat.
"Una!"
Blair dashed the remaining few feet to her doorway and took the corner so fast her bionic arm hit the opposite wall with a clank. She dismissed the brittle sound of breaking plastic to focus on the lean, bio-suited figure at the center of her room. It was a male quarian, standing with his head cocked to the side curiously at the screeching mech in his hands. He was so engrossed with his inspection of the droid that he didn't even look up until Una bleeped at her human in recognition.
"Hey! What are you doing with my mech?" Blair demanded hotly. She reached out and snatched Una away from the intruder in a manner that made him retreat a step. To her surprise, the voice that met her harsh manner was a light-hearted one.
"Admiring her is all," the quarian replied, holding up his three-fingered hands calmly, "It's not everyday I encounter an unsanctioned AI, and such a well-behaved one at that."
Blair straightened her defensive posture but continued to eye him warily.
"Forgive me," he continued with a quick bow of his head, "I've obviously overstepped my bounds. My name is Nym'Hadar vas Minoi and I work for Synthetic Insights - hence my interest in your companion. It appears we will be sharing this cabin on the way to Port Locke."
"Fine by me," the human said as she edged around him to retake her seat, "Just leave my droid alone. She's already been manhandled once today."
Nym took the seat opposite of Blair and gestured to Una. "I'm surprised you were allowed to board with it at all, but I'm glad you were; I'd be very interested in acquiring an AI like yours."
"She's not for sale."
The quarian laughed, causing his re-breather to pulse merrily. "Oh I don't want to buy her," he clarified, "I want to offer you a job."
"Oh yeah? I've heard that before," Blair replied. She pushed up the sleeve of her over-sized travel jacket and rolled down her protective sleeve. For added show, she brought up her bionic hand and split her index finger into two, miniscule sub-digits. A flash of static jumped between them. "You still want to hire me?"
Nym reached out for her prosthesis and she leaned away. " Excuse me? What'd I'd just say about touching?"
He laughed and bowed his head again. "Apologies. I've never seen a human with such extensive enhancement; your cybernetics must have cost a fortune."
Blair's frown deepened and her eyebrows pinched. "It wasn't exactly an 'enhancement'…"
Light glinted briefly behind the quarian's dark visor as his eyes shifted. He placed his roaming hands back in his lap and sat up in his seat. "I see," he mumbled awkwardly, "You were injured then; I suppose that makes more sense. Humans have the technology to correct defects in the womb do they not?"
The human's expression grew exasperated. "It's not a 'defect!'"
Nym slapped his hands over his helm and sighed. When he dropped them back into his lap, a tiny blue light flickered behind the glass shielding his face. "I'm not making a very good show of myself am I? I'm afraid I don't get out of SI's labs much anymore, and unfortunately my time there makes up most of my experience outside the flotilla. I don't mean to insult you or invade upon your privacy, it's just that I rarely get to meet people on my 'level' so to speak." He paused cautiously. "Or is that also impolite?"
Blair's face relaxed as she considered. "You mean your intellectual level?"
The quarian gave a quick nod. "Yes."
"I suppose I can understand that," the woman conceded. "And I have to admit I'm rather short-tempered today. Normally I wouldn't be so snappy, but I'm a little agitated. I hate flying."
"Then you will be glad to know the way to Port Locke is a smooth ride," Nym told her. "My facility is actually located there."
Una bleeped and rolled out of Blair's arms to look out the window. "So what were you doing here in Hanshan?"
Though she couldn't see his face, Blair got the distinct feeling that the quarian was smiling. "Same thing I'm try to do right now: recruit staff. Synthetic Insights has just green-lighted a pet project of mine, but my division is lacking enough suitable technicians. I was hoping I might convince some of the ones employed in Hanshan to transfer over - Port Locke having more to offer and all - but I didn't get many takers."
The woman rolled the sleeve of her bionic arm back down and leaned forward as she warmed to her quarian seatmate's discussion. "What kind of project?"
.oO-Oo.
Safely enclosed in the Matriarch's chambers, Naveed felt his nerves begin to unwind. He wasn't sure where to begin explaining his troubles, or how to, but Ohari seemed prepared to wait as long as needed. While his eyes danced over the white tiles of her room, she attended to him as she would an honored guest, going so far as to provide food and a pallet on the floor so he could sit in the customary drell fashion. Though he understood she meant to comfort, the attention only made him more reluctant; his woes seemed absurdly small in the face of the asari's own loss.
He looked up finally and found his host seated quietly behind a easel in the corner. The asari's lithe limbs shook as she pushed a brush across the rectangular canvas. Ever aware of others, Ohari spoke first.
"I want to thank you for your words at the service," she said gently, "Your ways are not ours, but somehow I feel Lyla would appreciate what you have done for her."
"It's nothing," Naveed demurred, "I would do it for any soul lost so senselessly."
The asari nodded to herself. "Many others are still suffering from the attack. A man of your skills would be in great demand on the Citadel now, Naveed. You could do much good there."
"Perhaps, but I imagine the recovery effort already has it's hands full with the physical impact of the attack. They need medical doctors to treat the wounded and engineers to rebuild the station; a single therapist like myself would simply get in the way."
Ohari chuckled and shook her head. She dabbed her brush in a spot of paint from her palette then made a yellow swatch on her forearm. "Hanar humility is not an excuse to disparage oneself, my dear. As a drell, you know all too well how important it is to heal on the inside as well as the outside. Do not belittle the ability to see past surface issues; it's a skill few people possess these days, and fewer still are those that put it to use caring for the needs of others."
Naveed swallowed at her words and fingered the edge of the pallet he sat upon. His gut twisted with guilt at the freckled face he found forming in his mind's eye, half-hidden behind mirrored glasses. As the image coalesced, it was not his face but Kilandra's that reflected off Blair's copper colored lenses.
He pinched his hand and jerked his head up abruptly, drawing the Matriarch's gaze away from her painting.
"Things are not well," he admitted hastily, "between Kilandra and I."
Ohari's face softened and she turned back to her work. "I know."
"You have spoken with her?"
"She spoke to me," the asari answered with a grin, "You know how Kilandra is when she's upset. Can't get a word in edge-wise."
"Do you believe her story?"
"The one about you having a sordid affair with a young woman you've only just met? Of course not. You're not that type of man, Naveed, and if my daughter can't see it then you are right to worry."
"I don't understand what is happening," Naveed mused sadly, "I can't seem to make her happy anymore. I used to think it was just a phase, that she was trying to cope with approaching the next stage of her life, but it has gone on for months now, and despite the lies I tell myself it's only getting worse. I don't…I don't want things to end between us, but I can't live with the moodiness, the fighting - the suspicion. I can't do it. It makes me sick, down to my very core."
The drell's eyes rolled over memories while his mouth silently mimed the dialog of days gone by.
"I came home a few nights ago, the day you contacted Kilandra about Lyla's death, and she was waiting for me. We had a fight, and she threatened to harm herself."
Ohari's head swung around sharply and her thin lips opened, but Naveed held up his hand in a wordless request for silence. The asari watched him with sympathy in her eyes as he struggled with his emotions. The drell's fingers and eyeridges twitched subconsciously as he channeled his thoughts, reminding the asari of nothing so much as a wounded creature's death throes.
"Kilandra doesn't respect my work," he continued finally. "And after turning it against me in such a way, it's clear she doesn't respect me either. People who love each other don't tear one another down with that which is important to them."
His dark eyes lost their far away cast and he blinked to refocus on the matriarch.
"I want so much to be what Kilandra needs in her life; I've even considered children, but this - the way we are - it isn't healthy. I feel like a fraud for claiming to help people take control of their lives when my own is so obviously out of order. It's not fair to my patients for me to be so distracted, and it's not fair to Kilandra for me to make promises I can't keep, even when that's all she is willing to hear."
"It's not fair to you either, Naveed," Ohari said softly. She put her painting away and crossed the room to sit beside him, taking his hands in her own as she had in the foyer. "I've never seen you so unhappy, and if I'd known things had reached this point I would have contacted you sooner."
She rubbed his hands thoughtfully and sighed. "Sometimes young asari forget that the rest of the galaxy moves at a faster pace than their own, and while their companions in life mature, they remain untouched by the passage of time and its dictates. Kilandra has never been the most self-aware of my daughters, and as the youngest of my brood I let her get away with more than most. It is important that you understand this, Naveed, and that you don't allow the two of you drifting apart to make you question yourself. Asari relationships often fade this way, as the young woman grows bored and finds herself unable to settle."
The Matriarch lifted a hand to one of the ruffled ridges along Naveed's cheekbone. "You need to do what is best for you now, because if you wait, hoping Kilandra's erratic behavior will change, you may be waiting for the rest of your life."