Reckoning

by Lividity Jones

Behind every revolution, there is a person. Behind every person, there is a story. Before she was an Admiral, Daro'Xen was a pilgrim. This is her story, the chronicles of a pilgrimage that began with the promise of hope, and ended in tragedy.

9. Darkness

The stolen cruiser was utterly silent during it's eighteen hour sojourn to the Migrant Fleet, the nearly soundless hum of the luxury cruiser's FTL drive the only echo accompanying Daro as she stared blankly down at the sterile white surface of the mess hall table. A polished tray of white ceramic sat on the table's immaculate surface, an unopened tube of dextro-based nutrient paste resting on top, the subject of the quarian's blank stare. Everything hurt. The pure, adrenal rush and focus granted to her during their flight from Omega had since faded, pain returning to her battered limbs with absolute clarity. It was an effort of sheer will to keep herself from doubling over. Daro hadn't eaten a solid meal since the journey had begun, only taking partial sips of water and tastes of nutrient paste when absolutely necessary. The others had practically forced her from the med-bay to the mess hall. Daro had spent time bandaging wounds and making sure there was no sign of pursuit, but beyond that she had almost sealed herself in medical with Kyta. Time spent eating or sleeping was time that Kyta could destabilize. Still, Daro was no use to her without energy. She needed enough to stay on her feet. After that, a quarian medical team would take over, and she might finally take a moment for herself.

A shaking hand slowly rose from the quarian's side, the three gloved fingers quivering in signals of pain rushing too her brain from the dislocation she had forced on the limb. Gritting her teeth, Daro brought the battered limb to her chest, taking deep and measured breaths in an attempt to shut out the pain. The arm would heal and the muscle would repair with enough physical therapy. All of the analgesic and painkillers had been either reserved for Kyta or given to the slaves Daro had managed to free. They had stolen a luxury yacht, not a medi-vac transport. The medi-gel supplies were quickly expended, many of the women enduring a cornucopia of injuries during the escape. The quarian had been forced to seal the med-bay shut for Kyta's sake, operating as an impromptu clean room, which made treating the wounded difficult at times. Her immune system was almost shot completely at this point, and careful monitoring was necessary to insure the balance of drugs remained at the proper level.

Shutting out the agonizing pain in her arm, Daro reached for the tube of nutrient paste and unscrewed the cap. She didn't have the luxury of allowing her pain to weaken her. Not when they were so close. Not with Kyta's life still hanging in the balance. She had endured so much, but Kyta had endured more. Still, Daro was left wondering how much longer that mentality was going to hold out against the need for sleep.

The tube of nutrient paste fell back onto the tray with a clatter, her fingers spasming in pain as Daro swore under her breath. It was getting harder to use her fingers. A thick glob of paste ran from the small lip of the tube, the quarian attempting to force away the agonizing sensation in her arm.

"Daro...?," a small voice called, the quarian looking up from her twitching limb to meet the inquisitive gaze of Vin's milky-white eyes beneath the opaque fuchsia of her visor, "do you need help?"

Daro's gaze shifted to the quarian, nar Khaali, giving her a curt shake of the head. "I'm fine," she insisted, unclipping the small cord-like tube from her helmet and sliding it past the lip of the nutrient paste.

Vin's white eyes watched Daro precariously, as though expecting the cloaked woman to topple over at any second. Which, given the events of the past few days, wasn't unreasonable. Her voice picked up a second time beneath her mask, a feeding tube attached to a small canteen of filtered water resting on the table.
"I told the others to watch Kyta. You should get some sleep while you c-"

"No," Daro snapped, perhaps with more venom than necessary, her whole body tensing. The hard chips of ice that made up her eyes softened, her livid tone coming to her attention, "I'll be fine, Vin. Thank you."

A long silence passed between the two quarians, the only interruption the barely audible sound of Daro and Vin drinking from the tubes of their helmets. The fuchsia visor turned to face Daro a second time, the small light of her mouthpiece fluttering with her words. "You care about her, don't you? I mean... a lot, huh?"

Daro almost smiled at Vin's girlish phrasing, the memories of everything she and Kyta shared forcing a small shadow of Kyta's own warmth to her heart, "More than you know," she whispered.

Vin took a long sip of her canteen before speaking, her eyes softening as a far-off gaze overcame them, "She was always the strongest of us... When T- that bitch... took her... it was like we had nothing left. She... gave us hope." Bowing her head for a moment, Vin looked down at her half empty canteen, playing with the tube connected to her mask idly. "Kyta is definitely something special. She must mean a lot to you for you to do what you did for her. I wouldn't have wanted to face Tidanya alone."

Daro listened in silence, drawn into the undercurrent of sweet memories shared between her and Kyta. Nestled together against the cold nights. The dreams of coming home they both shared. The promises they made to each other. The quarian's voice was small, weak in the light of the warmth she recalled in her mind. "It's more than that, Vin," Daro whispered, a barely perceptible shudder running through her petite form, "she was there for me when I needed her most. We kept each other alive. We needed each other. We still do. I..."

A thick lump formed in Daro's throat, swallowing the despair creeping into her. The vision of Kyta left hanging by her broken arms in that pit burned it's way into the forefront of her mind. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Vin slid further down the long table of the mess, craning her neck downwards to meet Daro's downcast gaze.

"It's okay, Daro," the quarian said, her hand resting on Daro's enshrouded shoulder, "we're going home."
Home. The word conjured the beautiful visions back into her mind that Kyta had whispered to her on those cold nights. Promises of a home world. It had been a silly notion when Daro had talked about it what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been a nice image, something hopeful, but it wasn't necessary. She had what she needed, what she wanted. The fleet, diseased as it was, was enough for her and Kyta. She would be safe there. The abuse she suffered would take time to heal, but Daro would be there for her every step of the way. Her immune system, perhaps, would never recover, the regiment of antibiotics Tidanya had subjected her to ravaging what little defenses her body had left. Daro didn't care. Even if it meant that they could never be together in the same way again, it would be enough just to be able to hold Kyta in her arms.

Daro turned to Vin, her glacial almonds meeting milky-whites with a grateful and silent nod. Vin's hand left Daro's shoulder, taking a long sip from her water. The cloaked quarian ate her tube of nutrient paste quickly, suddenly reminded just how hungry she was. Swallowing down the last of the flavored paste, Daro's eyes sought Vin's inquisitively.

"You mentioned that you and the others had shared a cell with Kyta," she said, the question coming in the form of a simple fact.

Vin's eyes flashed in Daro's direction, nodding as she said, "Since Tidanya brought her in. It was just me and Rella for a while. Kyta came next and then Hae. She tried to get us to fight them." The quarian's eyes averted themselves from Daro, shame reflecting in the white pools, "I couldn't. They had us bound. We tried… and she paid for it. I tried to fight back when they brought her in wearing that... thing... But there was nothing I could do." Looking back at Daro, Vin's posture straightens slightly. "Rella managed to crack one's face wide open, at least. She spent an hour getting beat for it, couldn't' even stand when they brought her back." Even through the visor, there is the hint of a smile in Vin's voice. "She said it was worth it."

Daro felt bitter bile rise in her throat at the memory of watching Kyta endure countless cruelties and torments in the grip of her arm binder, the sadistic device tormenting her to know end. She could scarcely imagine hanging from the ceiling and made to watch helplessly as Vin was. Turning her icy gaze back to Vin, the bitter and cold hate leaked slowly but surely into Daro's words, "They bound us out of fear. Every one of us is a trained fighter. They wouldn't have been able to imprison us otherwise." Daro didn't mention she was kept relatively mobile, rarely enduring more than a shackle to the wall. Tidanya's vanity in her regard truly seemed to know no bounds.

Tossing the emptied tube of paste onto the tray, Daro reattached the cord-like feeding tube to her helmet with steady hands as she recalled the torments she had inflicted on Tidanya. A reprisal for the asari's foul actions and the diseased empire she had built around herself. Even with the smoldering ruins of the whorehouse left an incalculable distance behind them and Tidanya's vivisected corpse burning to ash, it wasn't enough. There was no justice for the crimes that took place in those deep, dark halls. It made Daro's heart well once more with youthful rage. Ironic that she had never felt more aged.

Daro's voice drifted slowly from her mouthpiece, hurt, anger and pained confusion reaching out towards Vin, "I don't understand..." Vin's helmet turned towards Daro, her quiet sipping silenced as Daro continued, "Why...? Why are we made to do this? It's unfair."

Anger, cold and implacable as the void between stars, gripped Daro's soul, "The Flotilla casts us out. Forgets us in the stars. Abandons us to the mercies of a galaxy that savors swallowing us whole. For what? For what?" The quarian's three-fingered hands curl into fists, her ice-cold eyes staring down at them and envisioning Kyta held in her arms, "Kyta lies at the edge of death. Even if she survives, I don't know if she will ever truly recover. You. Hae. Rella. All of us have suffered more than any living creature should and countless more of our kind still suffer scattered across the galaxy. For what? Meager scraps to maintain the patchwork tombs we call homes."

Ice poured into Daro's veins as she spoke, railing against the hand that fate had dealt her kind, "We aren't even given a choice! It's the law! Every quarian must contribute to the integrity and safety of the Migrant Fleet!," she shouts, droning the all-too-familiar speech given to 'inspire' Pilgrims, "We have to make them 'proud!' Our families! Our friends! Our very lives! None of it means anything to the Flotilla unless we can prove that we are useful!"

Daro paused for a moment, a fresh coughing fit overtaking her. She had only been running on the minimum of anti-biotics, reserving all of the Hierarchy standard issue the ship carried for Kyta. Without Tidanya's high grade medicine, Daro was left feeling the worst of the plagues she'd been able to ignore for the past months.

Chips of razor sharp ice turn to bore into Vin as the attack settled, Daro's eyes igniting the air between the quarians with cold fire, "And those of us who die out in the void are given no funerals. No rites to welcome them into the ranks of the ancestors. No peace. No rest. False comforts and words of hollow reassurance are given to families that can easily replace their single child, so long as it doesn't exceed the projected population growth. We don't want too many mouths to feed, after all. So... Tell me, nar Khaali... Why?"

Vin sat trembling in her seat as surely as though Daro's very words had left the air of the mess hall frigid. Milky-white eyes stared beneath a fuchsia visor, sadness and confusion intermingled with fear and wonder looking to the woman beneath the black hood.

"I don't know," she said, a shiver running through her body as she choked weakly on the words.

Something about the frightened quarian girl trembling in her seat shocked Daro from her ranting, staring into her milky-white eyes, so sad and frightened that they were on the verge of tears. Daro's clenched fists slowly came undone, the ice in her veins slowly running it's course as she spoke with a shamed apology, "I'm sorry, Vin. Are you... Are you alright?" It had only just now occurred to Daro that she couldn't remember ever asking that question to anyone but the bandaged woman in Medical since arriving on the ship. She suddenly felt ashamed.

Hesitantly, Vin slowly nodded, quickly taking a long sip from her water and averting her eyes from Daro's. The cloaked quarian's hand moved of it's own accord to offer an encouraging gesture, but thought better of it before drawing herself back into the ragged folds of her cloak. Awkward silence hung over the two, Vin nervously drinking what remained of her water and occasionally coughing on a poorly-timed breath. Daro's voice piped from beneath her mouthpiece, attempting to clear the air as she spoke, "Tell me about yourself. You say you're nar Khaali. A larger turian ship, if I recall."

Vin's visor nearly snapped back in Daro's direction, the quarian clearing her throat before speaking, "I... Yes... How did you know? I mean, they teach us about most of the Flotilla's ships in primary school, but I could never remember any of them beyond the live ships."

"My parents had me memorize the names of every ship on the Admiralty's manifest when I was still in my bubble," Daro said proudly, fond memories of her parents forcing a small smile to her lips as she speaks. Her parents had always pushed her for excellence, but had never failed to be supportive when it difficult, either. A fresh pang of longing wormed into Daro's chest. What would they think if they saw her now?

"The Khaali was a turian warship that was retired after serving in patrols against batarian pirates, if I recall correctly," Daro continued, pushing that thought to the side.

Vin made a soft sound, a bizarre pattern of breathing that Daro slowly recognized as breathy laughter before speaking, "Yeah. Although, calling a turian craft a warship isn't really saying much. Turians really don't build anything with comfort in mind. Although the recreational rooms weren't bad, I guess. Hae is more into ships than I am."

Daro tried to compare the vision in her mind of living on the Khaali as opposed to living on the Khalos. The Flotilla was a veritable army in and of itself. Every quarian was a trained soldier. It was far from helpless, fighting off countless pirate and slaver attacks for three hundred years. Warships like the Khaali were instrumental to the survival of the quarian people. However, isolated, they were weak, much like their ancestral nemesis, the geth. The irony was not lost on Xen at all.

Daro felt a new contempt rise in her gut at the Pilgrimage and everything it stood for. Exile, isolation, damnation, and suffering. All in the name of glorifying the weakness of her species. If it was in her power, she would abolish it entirely. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Daro returns her attention to Vin.

A soft hiss of the mess hall hatch opening silenced the quarian's words before they could form, Shakki stepping into the brightly lit hall wearing a loosely-fit uniform likely belonging to the yacht's previous crew. A vast improvement from the barely concealing rags that had adorned her previously. The first thing many of the slaves had done after receiving appropriate medical attention was find new clothes, or in the case of the quarians, tear the humiliating ones they'd been forced to adorn their suits.

The orange-scaled drell's gaze settled on Daro, her golden eyes blinking under twin eyelids as she spoke, "We should be arriving at the Migrant Fleet's coordinates soon, ma'am," she annunciated, the words seemingly coming from her lips as easily as breathing.

Nodding gratefully to the drell, Daro gestured with a curt wave for Shakki to take a seat, "Call me Daro, please," she said with an almost exasperated tone. Moving across the mess hall to take a bottle of water from the one of the coolers, the drell sat across the table from the pair of quarians, sipping quietly to herself and pretending not to notice Daro's level stare. The cloaked quarian broke the silence with a polite question. No reason to abandon hospitality.

"You were a pilot, I assume?," she asked, absent-mindedly rubbing at her battered limb, "You were only one of two who has any experience, it seems."

Swallowing, Shakki turned to regard Daro with a small upturn of the corner of her mouth. "Part of being a drell is being trained for whatever purpose the hanar need us for. They can't really pilot themselves all the time...," the drell said, making a limp motion with her wrist, "Tentacles. Not particularly efficient for maneuvering a control stick."

Daro tilted her head to the side curiously, "I haven't met any drell in my travels. You live under the Primacy, I understand."

The drell seemed to consider her words carefully, pausing after every word as she spoke, "In a manner. We're given a choice if we want to serve the Primacy or make our own way in the galaxy, although it's considered a great honor to uphold the Compact."

Considering the drell's words, Daro's eyes slowly narrowed, "I've read about the Compact. It sounds very close to slavery."

Shakki seemed to flinch at Daro's measured accusation, "It's not, really. We're given a choice. We have homes. Culture. Free will. We just learned to respect the ones who saved our species from destruction."

A bitter sneer crossed Daro's features at Shakki's stumbling justification, "From yourselves..." Silence reigned in the mess hall as Daro's words were absorbed, the cloaked quarian continuing, "Your kind nearly destroyed themselves by their own industry. The only difference between you and I is that nobody saved my people. We don't live in debt of anyone."

It took Daro a moment to recognize the slight quivering tremble overcoming the drell's lip, Shakki's voice shaking as she averts her gaze from Daro, "I-I'm sorry... I'll j-just..." Realizing her mistake, the quarian's hand comes forward, the hard chips of ice that made up her eyes softening as she takes the woman's scaled hand in hers.

"No, I'm sorry, Shakki. I'm just...," Daro sighed, "Tired. And worried about Kyta. I'm... afraid. I haven't even spoken to anyone except Kyta for months..." Daro hung her head slightly, her eyes closing wearily. It took a force of will to keep from nodding off right then and there. "And I was never… the easiest person to talk to," Daro says finally. It felt odd talking about herself that way, almost like she was speaking about someone completely different than the determined pilgrim that had left the Khalos so long ago.

A three-fingered hand came to Daro's shoulder, Vin's voice attempting to ease Daro as the cloaked quarian tensed slightly at the physical touch, "Its okay, Daro. You don't need to apologize," she said, her fuchsia visor turning to the drell, "We understand."

Slowly, Shakki settled back into her seat, reading Vin's gaze as she gave Daro a small encouraging smile, "It's fine, Daro. It's a difficult concept to really describe. Most aliens disapprove."

Letting her hand leave the drell's, Daro absent-mindedly rubbed at the limb pulsating in signals of pain as she spoke. "Your kind at least honor their debts," Daro tried, hoping to make up for her outburst. "That's more than can be said for many. So you were trained specifically as a pilot?"

"Yes and no," the drell says, Vin settling back in her seat at Daro's side as she listens to Shakki, "We're given aptitude tests at a certain age that determine where our natural skills, personality and intelligence are best suited and then we're trained from that point forward to take on that role. I was a freighter pilot trading along the borders of Citadel space. There were only a few of us and we were only armed enough to handle the occasional disorganized band of pirates. We took a high-risk route on our last delivery, putting us closer to Terminus to save time jumping from relays."

Shakki swallowed thickly, as though trying to force the straining tightness forming in her throat away, the drell's lips forming in a tight crease as she paused her explanation. Turning away from the quarians, Shakki knuckled away something from her eyes, one of Vin's hands moving slowly across the table, a supportive reminder that they were there.

"Slavers. They didn't kill anyone, but Gods in the Deep, it was awful... Tarkir tried to fight them off even after they dragged us into the cells... They beat him... You couldn't even recognize him afterwards... I...," Shakki said, shuddering as she drew her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders.

Daro watched silently as Shakki retreated into herself, one hand hesitantly reaching toward the frightened drell. Shakki's time under Tidanya's yoke was, as the cloaked quarian understood it, a hell in and of itself, her rare alien form a coveted prize for whoever desired it. More than that, Shakki was also a very exotic drug. The idea that more of her friends and comrades could still be enslaved somewhere in this wide and cruel galaxy was a notion Daro knew all too well. The quarian's thoughts are broken as her three-fingered hand finds the drell's shoulder, Shakki gripping at her hand as she shuddered quietly.

Stumbling and caught unaware of her own actions, Daro attempted to comfort the drell, her thumb tracing small circles along Shakki's shoulder and ruffling the loose uniform she wore, "It's going to be alright, Shakki. I promise you, you'll get home. Even if I have to see each and every one of you there myself."
Sniffling, the drell brought her golden irises to meet the polished cerulean surface of Daro's visor with a small smile, giving the cloaked quarian a grateful nod. Taking Daro's hand in her own, Shakki slowly brought it down from her shoulder and into her lap, her free hand clasping over it and enveloping her digits with a concerned frown. "How is Kyta?," she asked, "I know you were concerned when we left and..."

The shadows enshrouding the cloaked quarian somehow seemed to grow darker as she pried her hand free of Shakki's gentle grip, fleeing into the ragged and stained cloak she wore, Daro's cerulean visor hanging low. Glacial orbs slowly sealed tight, vanishing in the opaque screen as she whispered, "I don't know."

As one black mass, Daro rose, her shadowed form standing in stark contrast with the pearlescent white of the cruiser's interior. Vin moved to intercept the cloaked quarian as she moved towards the mess hall hatch, Daro holding out one shaking hand to silence her before she could protest. Thumbing the access panel leading into the halls of the cruiser, Daro vanished from the hall, a flash of the ragged edges of her makeshift cloak marking her flight.

How could she even begin to explain? Being away from Kyta, even on the other end of the ship was torture. Every separation had been hell in Tidanya's palace of filth. Daro had become dependant on Kyta, to the point any time apart left her unsettled. Knowing how grievous her condition was didn't help, either.

Pain shot up Daro's winched arm, the quarian bringing the swollen and bruised limb to her chest beneath her cloak. The sharp pain cleared the fog of despair settling over her mind, Daro taking a deep breath as she moved through the immaculate halls of the cruiser. She breathed, a ragged sound that led into another coughing fit. Shaking if off, Daro continued. They would go home together. They had come too far for it to end now. She just needed rest, if only to clear her mind and regain her strength, and to make sure Kyta was okay.

Daro's thoughts of anti-biotics and the weight to dosage ratios necessary to keep Kyta stable were swiftly interrupted as she collided with a plated figure mid-step, a jolt of shock forcing her to back away warily and drop into a defensive posture a second slower than she normally would have. Her lack of sleep was starting to show. Wearily, her gaze settled on Varnal's tattooed face, the plates defiled by Tidanya's mark rubbed raw. The skin looked blued, but the dark, twisted brand remained. One mandible hung slack against her face, the turian reaching forward to anticipate Daro's exhausted fall.

"Hey, now. Careful. Are you alright?," she asked, Daro waving away the turian's outstretched hands. The quarian stood tall before the turian in spite of Varnal's advantage of height and weight against Daro's petite form. One curved leg quivered, struggling to keep the weight on the exhausted limb before it straightened.
"I'm fine," Daro insisted, "Just... tired."

Varnal gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, respecting the quarian's insistence by taking a small step backwards. Daro's gaze caught Rixi lying asleep in a bunk just inside the door Varnal had appeared out from, the twin sleeping soundly with the exception of the occasional twitch or murmur. Turning to the lucid twin, Daro whispered quietly.

"How is she?," she asked, Rixi's moments of lucidity and comprehensible communication few and far between.

"She's... struggling," Varnal sighed, looking back through the open door to her sister, "It's hard for her to distinguish between what's real and what isn't. Where Tidanya ends and where she begins. But she's still fighting it. Her spirit is strong." Turning to face Daro with a grateful smile, the turian nods to the quarian, "And what you said helped. Thank you., Xen. For everything."

A pang of empathy struck somewhere deep in Daro's chest, knowing full well what kind of horrible torments Tidanya was capable of inflicting on a person's mind. Scarred deep inside the recesses of one's subconscious, horrific visions designed to warp and pervert every beloved memory and precious dream, they would never leave her. Taking a single step closer to the empty doorway, Daro places one quivering three-fingered hand within the frame, whispering as she watches Rixi twitch and mumble in the midst of whatever nightmare she was helpless to defend against.

"Words won't be enough for her," she said, the bitter inflection in her tone clearly audible, "Tidanya was not gentle. Not for her and not for me." The quarian's grip tightens on the metal frame of the hatch, her tone taking on a more pained and frenzied tempo, "It's like every single part of you is being torn away strip by strip and laid out bare for her to see. She takes everything that makes you who you are and twists it, cutting and tearing and reshaping it as she sees fit. You feel every single second of your life, every memory you own, warped into a hell that can only exist in the mind and replacing every warm smile with a blow. Every joyous laugh with mockery. Ever caressing touch with agony."

Daro's cerulean visor snaps back to Varnal, her whispered plea cutting through the air between the two women like a needle of ice, "She won't go away, Varnal! It never goes away! Every memory, every feeling, she's there! I-It... I..." Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was the twisted smile somewhere in the infinity that stretched Daro's mind. Whatever it was gave her the feeling of oil in her stomach, turning it and poisoning it, until at last it had caught fire and made her snap once more.

Breath coming to the quarian in sharp, hyperventilating gasps, Daro's hands quivered uncontrollably. Wavering dizzily on her feet, the cloaked quarian nearly toppled over, the oily shadow of an implacably alien presence weighing inside her mind. Everything seemed to fade away in a smoky cloud, the quarian's whole body succumbing to exhaustion and dark dreams. A plated hand suddenly gripped Daro's shoulder, the pressure waking her from her obscured vision as a flanged voice whispered in her audio receptors.

"Listen to me, Daro," Varnal whispered, taking one of the cloaked quarian's hands in her talon before she manages to squirm away in a fit of quivering, "Whatever you're seeing isn't real. Tidanya is dead. Dead and gone. We are on our way home all thanks to you, Daro. Your friend is alive right now and just down that hallway. That's what's real."

The turian's words slowly sank a heavy weight into Daro's mind, an anchor lowered into a stormy sea, the quarian's breath slowly returning to normal as she scrambled for purchase on the plated skin of Varnal. Hesitantly, the turian's talons came to rest on the smaller quarian's shoulders reassuringly. Varnal's were so different from the other turians. Kiron's had been unbearable, even through the suit. Varnal's were manicured and rounded, not so sharp and intrusive, Daro allowing her eyes to slowly drift shut beneath the taller woman. Just as soon as the comforting feeling of Varnal's plated talons came, it is banished as Daro's eyes darted open, defying sleep and the poor mirror of Kyta's own warmth. Shrugging herself free of the embrace, the quarian straightened her ragged and blood-stained cloak as best as possible and gave the turian a grateful nod.

Returning the nod with one of her own, Varnal stepped aside as Daro made her way into the bunk occupied by the sleeping turian. Looming like a sliver of night over Rixi, the cloaked quarian watched the turian sleep fitfully, the small light of her mouthpiece flickering like a distant star in it's death throes.

"It isn't fair," she whispered, turning back to Varnal, "My people leave myself and others like me to die in the void, but you... Both of you have a strong people. With power to stop things like..." She pointed to Rixi. "Like this. Creatures like Tidanya are allowed to destroy so many lives for their own whims and desires, yet even the Council seems incapable of aiding it's own people. Do they choose to be malicious and ignorant? Or are aliens so inept and incompetent that suffering like this must be the norm?"

Varnal seemed taken aback by the quarian's accusation, flaring mandibles attempting to reason with the woman in a hushed tone. "Daro, that's hardly the Council's fault. We were in Terminus. They have no authority t-"

"Stop trying to defend the people that abandoned your sister to… this," snapped back Daro, her voice crisp and clean as glacial ice, "They could have enforced the laws they claim to represent. They could have destroyed Omega long ago. They could give a damn about the countless thousands suffering while they bury their heads in bureaucracy!"

"Too l-loud...," a small, flanged voice mumbled from behind the quarian, Daro turning to see Rixi opening her sleepy eyes up at the two women. Varnal quickly made her way past the cloaked quarian, Daro stepping aside as the twin comforted her sister with a soothing whisper.

"Hey," Varnal said, giving a soft caress over the plates of her face Tidanya had tattooed with her markings, "Did you sleep better?"

Rixi responded with a soft yawn, her mandibles fluttering along with the muted sound as she slowly sat up on the cot. Small black eyes settled on Daro with one mandible hanging slack in a sleepy smile. "D-Daro. It's n-nice to s-see you. Are y-you alr-right? You s-sounded…"

Daro stumbled with her words, caught off-guard by the unexpected sentiment from the mentally-scarred turian. "I... I am fine, Rixi. Thank you for your... concern," she said, stammering slightly out of surprise and exhaustion.

The turian shook her head, sitting up straight much to her twin's surprise, Varnal attempting to help her fragile sibling as she stared up and Daro with an open mandible smile. "N-No. Thank y-you, Daro. You w-wouldn't let h-her b-break you. The spirits m-must have s-sent you to us. Th-Thank you."

Her flanged voice cracking, the turian looks away from the cloaked quarian, a soft sniffling sound sending her already stuttering voice wavering. "I-I w-wish I c-could be s-strong like you, D-Daro... I w-wish I c-could have f-fought th-them... I c-can barely sp-speak a-anymore..."

As one amorphous shadow, Daro knelt before the turian, the opaque pane of cerulean masking her face sending a soft glow over the woman's features. Daro took one of the alien hands in hers, the shape surprisingly similar, "Tidanya is dead, Rixi. I killed her myself and we burned her pit to the ground. Whatever you see inside yourself is a shadow of a ghost. She can't hurt you anymore. Nothing can. I promise."

Rixi slowly turned back to face Daro, a small glint of tears forming in her onyx eyes as she went to say something before a shuffle of feet at the entrance to the bunk drew the attention of the three women. Shakki stood at attention, all practiced formality as she spoke. "We'll be arriving at the Migrant Fleet's coordinates within two hours, ma'am."

Giving the drell a curt nod, the cloaked quarian rose, looking down at Rixi before turning to leave. "Get some rest, Rixi. I'll see to it that a message is sent for a volunteer vessel to send you and the others home after you've been checked by the medical staff of the Moreh." Before either turian can respond, Daro falls behind Shakki in purposeful strides, her voice cutting through the air as she banks off toward the med bay. "See to it that the docking procedures go as quickly as possible. I'll provide the identification. I need to ready Kyta to be moved."

Shakki responded with a formal affirmative as she continued on her way to the flight deck, the cloaked quarian moving like a dead shadow before coming to the med bay, unlocking the sealed hatch with a wave of her omni-tool and stepping in to the sterile white room, it's sole occupant lying in a cot with freshly-cleaned sheets. Daro had since occupying the med bay thoroughly cleaned Kyta's body as best she could, trusting nothing to chance, and wrapped her entire form in a new layer of sterile bandages. Circling around the sleeping and bandaged quarian, Daro felt her heart sink deeper and deeper into her chest with every step, trying to shake away the dreadful feeling of seeing Kyta laid so low by busying herself with the array of medical computers and monitoring systems she had attached Kyta to.

She was sleeping peacefully, at least, her neural activity consistent with deep sleep. With the virtual legion of potential infections and bacteria ravaging her body along with her physical wounds, painkillers where the only way Kyta could sleep anymore, Daro letting her glistening icy almonds watch the steady rise and fall of Kyta's chest, interrupted by the occasional coughing fit. Pulling a nearby chair to Kyta's bedside, Daro wearily fell into it, her gore-stained cloak draping over the arms and pooling onto the floor. Slowly, Daro's hand moved to take Kyta's wrapped fingers into hers, her thumb tracing a slow circle over the limp digits.

Silence reigned, the distant hum of the engines and the steady beep of the monitoring systems in time with Kyta's heartbeat the only sound within the med bay. Daro's gaze turned downcast as she broke the silence, unsure if Kyta could even hear the weak voice trying to reach her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry it took so long. It should have been different, Kyta. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to go home with our heads held high, smiling and laughing at our triumph. Not like this. Not limping back on the edge of death..."

Rising from her seat, muscles quivering and trembling in exhaustion, Daro stood over her bandaged friend, cupping her cheek with her free hand and dragging her thumb gently along the thick layer of cloth wrappings. "We were supposed to walk out of there together. Run together." Her grip on Kyta's hand tightened. "Hold hands together. Hug together." Leaning forward, the smooth surface of her visor softly rested against Kyta's forehead, the mouthpiece of her visor grazing the outline of her lips. "Kiss together..."

Daro's lips quivered beneath her mask, bitter warmth stinging her eyes before welling up and running down her cheeks. "I-I... I let this happen to you, Kyta. I sh-should have done something. This is all my fault. I'm so, so s-sorry... I should have been faster. I should have... I..." The cloaked quarian trailed off, her words drowned in an incomprehensible cry of sorrow, holding her visor gently against Kyta's forehead with a clink.

Slowly regaining control of herself, Daro lovingly caressed Kyta's cheek, speaking in a soothing whisper to the sleeping quarian. "But it's going to be okay, Kyta. We're almost there. We're going home." The cloaked quarian tried desperately to smile, forcing the joy into her voice. "Home, Kyta. Like I promised. We're going to get to stay up and watch vids all night with a bowl of fresh nutrient paste. And your parents can come over whenever they want. Our family. We'll be safe, Kyta. We'll be home. Like I promised. Just a little further to go."

Feeling her legs shaking and quivering beyond control, Daro stepped back from her embrace of Kyta, nearly collapsing back into the chair at her bedside. Still holding tightly onto Kyta's hand, Daro's eyelids grew heavy, drifting shut against her will as the full weight of her exhaustion fell upon her body like a tidal wave. Weakly, she spoke to her comatose lover one last time before sleep took her at last, the near super human display of endurance Xen had displayed finally running out. "I promised..."

Silence, cold and quiet, became Daro's world, the cloaked quarian standing draped in a curtain of darkness indistinguishable from the abyss surrounding her. Phantom winds blew from nowhere, sending a horribly inevitable chill running through her suited form. So cold... So cold without Kyta here. Holding her arms tightly across her chest, Daro's piercing gaze sought Kyta through the endless dreamscape, fear and dread creeping into her when she found nothing. The perpetual need for Kyta's safety pervaded Daro on every level, including the subconscious.

The quarian's breath fogged the cerulean surface of her mask, her breath coming in weak, panicked gasps as her heart raced in nightmarish fear. Something moved in the shadows, an inky tendril slithering across the formless landscape, some primal part of Daro's mind screaming in fear at the alien presence. A voice rang out from the darkness, venomous and seductive in it's scornful mockery as the oily tendril slid closer to the cloaked quarian. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... Is my precious little pet lonely?"

Tidanya's laughter, rich and thick like honey laced with poison echoed across infinite spaces as Daro turned to flee in horror. No. Not her. Not again. Smoky tendrils of oily blackness sprung from the shadows around the quarian, her cruel laughter ringing from everywhere and nowhere at once. Congealing and coalescing, the writhing mass of tendrils warped and mutated, a bare hand of oily azure skin stretching out from the darkness. Screaming in pure terror, Daro fell backwards, tripping on her cloak as ice-blue eyes glowed like pinpoints of cold light in the abyss, painted lips spreading in a slick smile as a navy-blue tongue ran lustfully along ivory teeth.

A shrill cry of pain sounded far off in the distant emptiness, Daro's silver almonds staring widely out into the darkness at the horrible sound of familiar cries of suffering. Kyta's voice rang out, echoing across fathomless distances, the cloaked quarian huddling uselessly in terror beneath the nightmarish vision of the asari, her quarian companion begging mindlessly for the pain to stop. Laughing a deep and throaty chuckle bubbling over with poisonous scorn, the asari slid almost in a serpentine fashion to bring her face to Daro's visor, her slick tongue dragging along the polished surface as she whispered. "She liked it, pet." Lacquered nails gripped and dug their razor edges into Daro's suit. "So will you."

The layers of material and mesh that made up Daro's suit gave way like water under the razor sharp nails of the asari, the quarian stumbling to her feet, screaming and running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her lungs burned, unfiltered air rushing into the breaches of her suit. Beads of sweat formed on her fever-wracked skin, coughing and stumbling as the muscles in her legs lost the strength to carry her onwards, Daro's body betraying her. Silver eyes turned back in wide-eyed fear, the asari languidly slithering behind the quarian as she crawled desperately on her stomach to escape. Black nails gripped at Daro's shoulders, tearing away at her suit as the asari flipped her sickly weak form over and pinned her beneath her weight. Screaming a shrill chorus of terror and agony, the quarian fought back fruitlessly as the last barrier keeping the monstrous nightmare of an asari was torn away. Running her painted nails over Daro's sensitive flesh, drawing crimson lines of blood in livid streaks, the asari's blackened lips and coiling tattoos smiled down at the quarian, whispering with rapturous and lustful hunger into her ear. "Mine."

Seething anger pierced Daro's heart at the hissed word leaving the nightmarish asari's blackened lips, remembering the whispered promise she shared with Kyta so long ago in that filthy pit they were locked in together and banishing her fear. A palm came forward, smashing into the creature's face and forcing it's writhing, serpentine body off of her. Kyta's voice called in the dark, begging for Daro to help her as the quarian rose to her feet, baring her teeth in hateful spite. "I am Daro'Xen nar Khalos. I am my own. Tidanya is dead. I killed her myself. You are nothing."

Baring teeth resembling long ivory fangs, the nightmare of Tidanya seethed visibly at the quarian's defiance, frothing venom and saliva dripping from it's long navy tongue. Cruel, mocking laughter bubbled from the creature's throat, slithering back into the shadows from where it came. Defiant shards of glacial ice started out into the darkness, daring the beast to rear it's foul head again before Kyta's voice cried out once more, Daro's unsuited body regaining it's strength as she ran to the source of her beloved's screams. A deep red light pulsed in the distance, Kyta's calls ringing louder and louder in Daro's mind as she drew closer, begging and pleading, lost in the darkness.

There. The silhouette of a quarian woman, standing starkly against the pulsating light. Turning to greet Daro's arrival, twin stars burned behind a viridian pane of polished glass, heartbreaking in their clear expression of pain. Holding one atrophied arm out for Daro to grasp, Kyta's voice whispered a desperate pleading groan. "Daro... Please... Help me..." Bare feet slipped over something within Daro's imagined dreamscape, the sudden and inevitable sensation of falling overcoming the quarian's senses. Deep red and impenetrable black gave way to blinding white, Kyta's voice calling to Daro as she twitched suddenly awake in the same chair by Kyta's bedside she had rested in.

Flashing crimson lights blinking dangerously across the monitors over Kyta slowly came into focus, Daro's heavy-lidded eyes snapping open as the cloaked quarian nearly leapt to her feet. Squirming and moaning in clear agony, the bandages over Kyta's mouth stretching grotesquely with every groan of pain, a sensation of pure dreadful despair crawled up Daro's spine and froze her in her tracks as she read the virtual array of monitors and sensors. Arching her back in a horrific contortion of pain, Kyta's atrophied limbs spasmed wildly as she groaned in agony. "Daro... Please... Help me..."

Panicking, Daro's hands dart across the haptic interface of Kyta's monitoring devices, trying to calm her shaking fingers. How long had the alarms been going? How long had Kyta laid in her cot, writhing in agony from the infections ravaging her body? How long had Daro laid there in a nightmare, oblivious? Ignoring the stinging burn of tears forming in her eyes, Daro adjusted the antibiotic and immuno-booster balance the system had administered to Kyta, taking a small tube of medi-gel and a roll of sterile bandages from a nearby table and trying to find where a breach must have formed in her wrappings. If one of her wounds was exposed to open air or not properly sterilized... No. She had checked them all. She must have. "Daro... Where are you...? Don't leave me... Don't leave me alone with them..."

Daro felt her heart sink into her chest. Kyta was hallucinating. The fever was slowly but surely killing her. She must have missed something. What? What did she do wrong? There had to be a way. Daro's hand quickly finds Kyta's, taking hold of it as her free hand furiously pans through interface after interface, medical scans running over and over again, flashing an angry red. "Kyta! I'm right here...! Look at me... Please... I'm right here... Stay awake! I need you to stay awake!"

Countless calculations ran through Daro's mind, consulting the veritable encyclopedia that was her knowledge of biology. Every single step of her treatment of Kyta was analyzed at the speed of the model scientist's thoughts, desperately trying to find where she would have made her error. All the while, Kyta's moans of pain and spasms of feverish agony continued, making it impossible for her to focus. Every dying whisper. Every delirious murmur. It was like another needle driven into her heart, each syllable punching a new hole in her resolve. No. She couldn't give up. They were almost there. Silently muttering a prayer to the ancestors for guidance, Daro's shaking hands attempted another scan before Kyta's voice drifted to her audio receptors. "Not alone... Not again... You promised... You... I... I love you..."

"Don't go…"

Daro's composure broke, a strangled cry of despair and sorrow croaking from her throat as she moved to Kyta's side, tearing off her own mask in a fit of grief. It couldn't end like this. Kyta couldn't die. Not when they had survived so much together. Not when they promised. Not when Daro promised. Bitter tears ran freely down her face, dripping from her chin onto the layer of bandages, pulling at them until Kyta's beautiful face came into view, taking special care not to damage any of the medi-gel sealant, fear and pain and confusion heartbreakingly clear on her features. "Please, Kyta! I'm here! I'm right here! See?" Daro took Kyta's bandaged hand in hers, holding on for dear life as her free hand gently caressed Kyta's bare cheek. "Please... Kyta... Look at me... I'm right here... It's me... Just look at me... Look... Please... I love you too, Kyta... Now focus! I need you to focus! Focus on me! I'm right here!"

Kyta's hand shook in Daro's grip, quivering in the death throes of fever, silver-starry eyes slowly drifting shut, one broken finger curling to brush gently against Daro's before falling limp and lifeless. The haptic display of her heartbeat monitor ceased it's sporadic beat, devolving into a long, wailing dirge echoing in Daro's skull. Daro's eyes stared at the flat line in disbelieving horror, her hands scrambling with grief-stricken tremors, bringing her lips against Kyta's, almost attempting to breathe life back into her. Bitter tears streak down Daro's face, crying and sobbing uncontrollably as her hands press rhythmically against Kyta's chest, attempting in a desperate plea to restart her heart. "I love you, too... Don't go... No... Keelah... No..."

Nothing. With movements that were entirely too slow for Daro, the shaking woman finally managed to get her hands on a defibrillator, pressing it to Kyta's chest. She pulled down on the switch.

There was a sizzling sound as Kyta's body lurched forward, bending into impossible angles that only broken limbs could. Still, nothing.

Again, nothing.

On the third attempt, Daro held the switch down, pumping as much electricity into Kyta's body as she could. There was a small tick on the heart monitor.

Then another.

Daro felt her heart soar, before the machine once again flat-lined with one long, final note.

Collapsing at Kyta's bedside, Daro gripped onto the lifeless, atrophied hand, anchoring herself in place as she went blind with tears. She was gone. Kyta was gone. Taken forever into the void. Cold surrounded and permeated Daro, all the light and love left in her feeling as though it had been sucked from her body in Kyta's final gasping breath. She was alone. All that was left was a broken shell of a person, a beautiful, loving person burned, broken and ravaged by a world that took her beauty and consumed it, leaving nothing for the only one left in the universe willing to nurture and love it.

Kyta'Jiil was dead.

In a fit of grief-stricken rage, Daro let out a long, shaking wail, ending with her staring at her free hand. A hand that had failed in it's duty. A hand belonging to a failure, the ceaseless droning sound of Kyta's heartbeat monitor mocking the quarian with it's screeching note. Quivering fingers tightened into a ball, bitter tears dripping onto Daro's knuckled fist as she cried. Senseless, animalistic moaning screamed from her lips, Daro's sorrowful moaning ebbing and flowing between coherency and babbling. More than anything, she wished she could die at that very moment, taking heaving lungfuls of air as she hyperventilated. Maybe if she breathed deep enough, taking in all the filth in the universe and choking to death on it, she could see Kyta again. She could see her parents. Or maybe she'd simply cease to be. Even that was preferable. She could forget.

A shrill, rasping voice screamed in Daro's ear, slowly coming into focus over the quarian's whimpering cries. Shakki shouted desperately over the communications channel. "Daro! Daro, I need you on the comm! They want identification! They've locked weapons!"

Daro's tear-streaked eyes stared down at the flawless white floor, droplets of warm water dripping down with every heave of her shoulders. The Flotilla's defenses were based on a system of code-phrases issued to young quarians before they left on their Pilgrimages. Every set of phrases was unique to that individual, one a confirmation of their identity and a password that secured safe docking with the Fleet and another meant to signal a vessel for attack in the event a pilgrim was captured. For a brief, fleeting moment, Daro considered speaking the latter. Any approaching ships that had intentions that could not be identified would be shot down. The Fleet didn't take chances. Of course Shakki didn't know it was common procedure to lock weapons.

A twitch of her fingers brought her omni-tool to life, tuning into the Migrant Marines' communications channel halfway through the docking officer's warning. "-are within Migrant Fleet airspace. Identify yourself or we will fire."

"This is Daro'Xen nar Khalos, r-requesting permission to d-dock with the Moreh." Daro's hand tightened on Kyta's limp and lifeless one. Some part of her wanted it to end. To send the kill phrase and let it all be washed away in mass-accelerated fire and all-consuming vacuum. The deadly words lingered on her tongue, just at the edge of whispering forth and sending her to greet the ancestors.

A pause that seemed to stretch forever in Daro's quiet sobbing state filled the air before the docking officer's voice cut through the comm. "Acknowledged, Daro'Xen. Verify."

Daro's mouth opened to speak, the kill phrase nearly slipping past her lips before her teary eyes fell on Kyta's limp and lifeless hand. Staring at the three atrophied finger loosely gripping Daro's, the cloaked quarian could not find the strength to order her own execution. Kyta wouldn't want that. Not after coming so far. She would tell Daro to never give up. To keep going. To make sure the others, the people she had saved and who looked up to her for guidance and protection made it home safely.

Taking a deep breath to bite back the tears from flowing into her words, Daro spoke into the comm., calling to mind the phrase she had chosen what felt like a life time ago, "oceans of darkness, winds in the void, conquered by my hand, left hollow by my passing; this heart is triumph."

"Permission granted. Welcome home, Daro'Xen nar Khalos." The officer's words sent a piercing needle of sorrow deep into Daro's heart. Home. Her grip tightened on Kyta's lifeless hand. They were home. Fresh stinging tears welled up in Daro's eyes, blinding her as she attempted to speak through a strangled, choking sob.

"Requesting a security detail and a cleaning crew upon docking. Our ship is not clean and there are aliens aboard who require safe transport and medical treatment. And... And a medical team for myself and f- three others..." Daro took a pained look back at the hand hanging lifelessly in her grasp, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

"Understood. The outsiders will stay docked and receive treatment. A security team will escort yourself and the others to the medical wing for examination and decontamination. Captain Donn'Kira will want to meet you." The officer's words were lost on Daro as she cut her comms, one suited thumb tracing a circle over Kyta's bandaged hand. It was so strange, being able to hold Kyta's hand. Daro had always imagined what her fingers would feel like locked together with hers. How her arms would feel wrapped around her lovingly. Holding Kyta's hand in hers, Daro stared through eyes blurred by tears, convinced that she would just wake up and hold her hand, smiling and laughing that they were finally home. That they had made it. That they were free. That they were together.

But she didn't wake up. She wasn't holding her hand. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't doing anything. Kyta was gone. Daro's free hand moved to join the one clenching Kyta's tightly, resting her forehead against the back of the quarian's atrophied and broken hand. Burning water streaked from her eyes, burying the weeping shards of ice in the rough texture of the bandages as she sobbed, begging and pleading for Kyta to please just wake up. "Please, Kyta... Don't leave me... Don't go... I can't... I'm not strong enough without you..." She had promised. They both had promised. Their own room on the fleet. A place of love and light and music, far away from the galaxy that had used and abused them. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Gritting her teeth, Daro buried her tightly-shut eyes in the rough bandages of Kyta's hand, her sorrowful cries turning to snarling growls of bitter rage. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Every atom in Daro's body wished she could go back to the miserable pit that housed the asari who did this and peel her apart all over again, removing her organs one by one and showing them to her. More so Daro wanted to crush the quarian people that deigned the Pilgrimage, and the cursed ancestors that build the geth. But it would be a cold and hollow comfort. In truth, this was no one's fault but her own. Nights spent curled together in the corner of their cell rushed through Daro's mind, Kyta's loving and soothing voice whispering her sweet promises to sleep, regretting every second of it. If she hadn't allowed herself to get so close, if she hadn't cared so much, if she had focused on escaping, they could have both been free before now. Kyta could be smiling and laughing at the magnificent sight of the Flotilla stretched before them, welcoming them home after all their hardships.

A great and terrible weight settled on Daro's shoulders, a hundred names and places rushing through her mind, countless voices whispering to her as she felt herself relive every terrible second that lead to this moment in time. It was all her fault. Caleston. Jason. Omega. Kyta. She had promised. She had failed. And all the while, a cold set of ice-blue eyes stared at her from some deep, dark corner of her mind with scornful mockery.

Distant sounds rumbled in Daro's hearing, her eyes blinded by tears as the rough fabric of Kyta's bandages scratched at her bare flesh. Footsteps moved through the ship with whispered precision, authoritative voices shouting through voice modulators over the familiar worried and hushed tones of the slaves. The marines. They were coming. Too late. Daro's eyes burned as she wept into the back of Kyta's limp and lifeless hand. It was all too late.

A sharp hiss forced Daro to turn her glacial eyes toward the med bay hatch, blurry shapes of faceless ghosts stepping over the threshold as the cloaked quarian slid to her feet, her hooded cloak falling over her features as she turned back to see Kyta's oddly serene face stare up at her in a deathly gaze. Her eyes, shining like diamonds, pierced through the veil between life and death, eternally beautiful even cold and silent. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to see such beauty. The two vaguely humanoid shapes step closer, a warbling question drifting from one of their faceless masks as more shapes darted past the open hatch.

Daro blinked away the haze of tears as she turned, her cold eyes meeting the polished surfaces of two visors, one of the marines, a woman, bending over to pick up Daro's discarded mask as the second, a male, took a step closer. The flickering light of his mouthpiece gave away the fact that he spoke, but Daro heard nothing. The woman's suited hand moved carefully, cautiously to lay a reassuring touch on the cloaked quarian's shoulder, moving to help Daro with her mask. The bare flesh of her chin, lips and lower jaw gleamed in the harsh light, cold, dead stars staring at the marine's slowly approaching hand unblinkingly. The man's visor seemed to peer beyond Daro's shoulder to Kyta's lifeless form, eliciting a snarl from the petite quarian. "Don't look at her."

More suited figures appeared, armbands displaying the various ranks of the medical technicians hurriedly entering the med bay and quickly approaching Kyta's bedside. Daro's eyes darted open, snarling and screaming as she lunged at the nearest technician in a fit of rage. One clawed hand scraped against the quarian's visor before the powerful arms of the male marine hooked beneath her arm and pulled Daro backwards. Hastily affixing Daro's mask to her helmet, the female brought one arm across Daro's chest, wrestling with her sweeping and clawing arm as the duo attempted to drag the cloaked quarian from the med bay, still screaming and crying through the distortion of her mask. "NO! Don't touch her! You can't touch her! Don't you DARE touch her!"

Vainly attempting to shout back over Daro's mad cries, the marines carried Daro to the threshold, her ice-cold eyes weeping a fresh stream of silvery tears as she snarled and screamed. "I need you to calm down, ma'am! The technicians will do everything they can! Please! You need treatment!"

Daro's powerful, curved leg snapped forward, thrashing in the air as her elbow smashed against the side of the woman's helmet, screaming in defiance as she writhed in the marines' grip. "No! No, I won't let them touch her! Nobody can touch her!"

The man's gruff voice barked from behind his mask as his arm wrenched back Daro's. "Give her the sedative." The woman shook off the dazing effects of Daro's strike, removing an injector gun from her side pockets and tearing down at the cloaked quarian's cowl before stabbing the needle into the suit and pulling the trigger, sending the needle through the layers of her suit and into the veins of her neck with a sharp hiss.

Horrifying numbness spread through Daro's body, replacing the coursing ice of bitter and hate-fuelled rage. Cold eyes drifted shut against their will, vainly attempting to stay open as darkness came to claim Daro. One weak hand reached out toward the med bay as the marines carried her away, her voice whispering past he mouthpiece as one last tear rolled down her cheek. "I promised..."

And Daro slid into a final darkness that stretched for infinity.