Author's Note: As always, I must appeal for your reviews and comments. Currently, the reader-to-review rate is hovering right around 1.13%. That hurts. Also, for those who enjoy my writing style, I am pleased to announce that I have just published a second Fan Fiction with Tali as the central character, entitled "Beneath the Shroud". Of course, if you have already added me a "Favorite Author" you would already know that. *Hint Hint*
Chapter Seven: 23...Qg3
"De duobus malis, minus est semper eligendum..."
(Of two evils, the lesser must always be chosen...)
~Thomas a Kempis
"How you have fallen from heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations!" The man laughed upon reading this aloud, his head shaking in dismay. "The humans got closest to getting the story right, but they always placed me below my brother, like he created me, and then cast me out. Foolish."
As the man returned to paging through the book, Tali'Zorah found herself very confused. After agreeing to help the man with the ever changing face who called himself Morning Star, he had started explaining his plan. But then she had slid into darkness, before suddenly reappearing in front of the man again.
The man sensed her confusion, as he always seemed capable of doing. He quickly closed the book, which Tali saw had read Isaiah 14:12 upon the top of page, and reached across the table to grab her hand. Looking into her eyes, although the nature of his face presented her from returning the gesture, the man asked her a question. "Tali, does it seem like you just skipped in time, or that you cannot remember what I was referring to as I read the book?"
She nodded slowly, her eyes blinking rapidly as a corner of the room drew her attention. Where once a bookcase had stood, now only a creeping black presence remained, slowly drawing towards the center of the room. The man followed her gaze, before letting go of her hand to rummage under his desk. He was mumbling in an angry voice.
"W-whats going on?" The quarian girl finally asked, as another corner of the room seemed to suddenly fell into a dark blackness.
The man straightened up, placing three silver objects upon his desk. "You," He started, sounding quite harried, "...are being pulled back into the darkness, where the One-in-Between rules. But it's happening faster than it should. Leave it to my brother to cheat in such a manner..." He pounded his hand on the desk, the action doing little to it's heavy oak surface. "Now, I apologize for the... symbolism these objects stand for, but we have no other way. I need you to put them on."
As the man slid the three silver circles across the desk, Tali finally got a good look at them. Two were of equal size, the third a bit larger, each engraved upon their side in a most intricate fashion. Each depicted the same thing, a five-pointed star encased within a circle. She found them beautiful, especially the way in which light seemed to play across their surface, their natural luster unharmed by their apparent age.
"What do I do with them?" She finally asked, slowly picking up one of the smaller circles, her hands running across their smooth surface.
Upon looking at his face, she got the impression that the man was embarrassed. He brought a hand to one wrist, then reversed the action, before finally touching his neck. "Like I said, put them on."
As she realized what he wanted, Tali dropped the silver instrument, her hands drawing back as if bitten. "They are two cuffs, and a collar!"
"Like I said," the man started, "I am sorry for the potent symbolism such devices create, but I must assure you: they are entirely benign. To you at least."
Tali was dubious. She slowly placed one hand back upon the table, grabbing one of the cuffs. Examining it, she pulled upon where the two sides met. The cuff opened slowly, its hinge hidden and quiet. What she observed, however, only weakened her wavering trust in the man. "They have locks."
The man wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sighing in the process. "We do not have the time for me to explain our rules, Tali." He spread his arms in an effort to draw her attention back to the room. To her surprise, only the desk and its immediate surroundings remained untouched by the impending darkness. "My promise must suffice. Without those articles, you will be pulled back into the darkness, and you will never help Shepard. How many times has Shepard risked something for you?"
His last comment stung the quarian. Shepard had always been willing to risk his life for her. She had to return the favor. With determination, she grabbed one of the cuffs, snapping it onto her wrist. A click indicated it was locked on. The darkness that had nearly enveloped her slid backwards. Noticing this, she grabbed the other cuff, and now emboldened, placed it upon her right wrist.
Once again, the darkness drew back. As Tali reached for the collar, the man suddenly stood up, the abrupt action throwing his chair back into the slowly receding darkness. Believing she had done something wrong, Tali drew her hand back. The man, however, was pointing behind her.
The quarian turned quickly to follow his gesture, but saw nothing. The man did not seem to share this view, as he nearly leapt over the desk, positioning himself between her and the area of blackness that had drawn his attention. "No!" He shouted, "She is mine!"
The man's possessive suggestion struck a wrong chord with Tali, but the bright light that suddenly sprang from the encroaching darkness forced that thought from her mind. Emerging from that light, the quarian recognized a familiar being. Although hard to distinguish upon the black background, a smoke-like figure was visible. As the being moved closer, Tali came to the conclusion that this had to be the same being that she had met on Rannoch, during the first time she had "awoken" from the blackness.
Upon coming within a couple meters of the edge of the darkness, the being of smoke stopped. Tali could barely make out a quiet, although distinct, mumbling coming from it. While she was unable to interpret what it was saying, the man's reaction to its 'talking' was immediate, and decisively hostile.
He continued his yelling. "Dammit, brother! She is correctly anchored here, in my plane. You, have no claim to the quarian. I don't even know how you are capable of being..." The man stopped suddenly, pivoting on his heel to face Tali. "You haven't put on the collar?! Hurry up, do it! All three pieces are needed to keep you here, away from him." He spat out the last word.
Tali, a deep fear rising within her, moved quickly to grab the collar. As she raised it to her neck, the being of smoke spoke again. This time, however, it's voice was clearly audible. As before, on Rannoch, the voice seemed to resonate from within her own mind. "Tali'Zorah must not complete that trinity. We will lose you. Shepard must fail. It is the only way we know how!"
The young quarian hesitated, the collar mere centimeters from her neck, indecision suddenly gripping her. The man, seeing this, became enraged. With a quick snap of his fingers, Tali found herself once again upon the brink of death. The bullet wounds upon her shoulder returned, the crack upon her visor reappeared, and her breathing once again became labored. The being of smoke was again speaking to her, but its message was lost to the sheer agony she suddenly found herself enduring. And yet through that agony, a single phrase kept repeating itself in her head: "End the pain, help Shepard, put on the collar."
Before, when placed into this state, Tali had submitted to the pain. But now she continued to hesitate, intent on considering the facts. This was easier said than done. As her brain registered the various amounts of damage her body had endured, it screamed for a release or way to end the pain. Later, she would find it hard to identify exactly what had caused her to stall. Truth be told, it was a phrase, which she kept repeating, driving out the pain, the agony, the demands for submittance: What would Shepard do?
The man without a face openly admitted that the figure of smoke was his brother, and that the quarian people called that being "Keelah". To Tali, that had to mean that the being of smoke was naturally good. The man's treatment of her when she considered going against her wishes only served to further strengthen Tali's resultant conclusion: that the man without a face was in some way evil.
Had she came to this conclusion before the arrival of the being of smoke here within this room, her reaction would have been clear cut. But now, a portion of the being's appeal drilled into her rational thought processes. Shepard must fail. Why had it said that? Shepard, the Shepard she loved, would never do anything hostile, or "evil". If this being of smoke was against Shepard, Tali found herself at odds with its motives. No matter what the facts said, Shepard would never do anything to harm her, or the galaxy at large. The man she knew, the man she loved, was a hero, a paragon. And so she made her decision, allowing the collar to clamp around her neck.
At once, her body pulled back from the brink of death, her wounds healing instantly. The being of smoke's temper raised suddenly, but a second later it had disappeared. The darkness that had been slowly swallowing the room retreated completely, leaving Tali with the man, who returned to his seat across the table from her.
"You made the right decision, Tali." The man said solemnly. "Now, let me explain everything, before Shepard arrives."
"We are lucky, sir. The asari have pseudo-stratified epithelium that are generally more resilient to damage than mine or yours."
Harlan'Con was not the sort of person you tried to overwhelm with scientific aptitude. But he was in an unusually good mood, and the human doctor that stood across from him was new. Harlan let him off easily. "And what does that mean, doctor?"
The human doctor, who, despite his large vocabulary, had been butchering patients in the lowest sections of Omega when Harlan had found him, placed a hand upon his throat. "Her trachea, erm, windpipe. You or me? That krogan would have crushed it. But our guest got lucky. Barely."
Harlan laughed as he positioned himself closer to their guest, his wheelchair squeaking indignantly at the movement. The doctors that had held the human's position before him had promised cybernetic implants to regain his mobility. With them now lying in a shallow grave on some distant planet, Harlan had gotten used to the idea of using the wheelchair for a little while longer. He sure as hell wouldn't trust that human butcher to do any sort of reconstructive work.
Normally that line of thought ended with Harlan in a rage, but today was just too good to lead to that result. It had all started hours earlier, when Aria T'Loak had shown up outside of his compound, with a gift. She had been angry, rambling about incompetence and krogan. When Harlan had told her to "quite yapping and spit it out", he had been afraid Aria would make a most... unfortunate decision to attack him right there.
Aria was needy. Aria was bitchy. Aria, however, was not stupid. Hurting the crippled quarian that sat in front of her would have been shortened her lifespan considerably. And Harlan had indeed been prepared. A single word would have sent a sniper's round right through Aria's forehead.
Luckily for both sides, neither criminal wanted another gang-war hurting their business. Instead, Aria had given Harlan the asari prisoner she had brought with her, on the condition that any information extracted would be forwarded to her. Harlan had accepted, and after a couple hours of preparation, he was about to have some fun.
Stopping his wheelchair in front of the prisoner, Harlan could not stop himself from smiling, although his helmet hid this emotion from anyone watching him. "Wake her up, doctor."
The human nodded, moving to stand beside the prisoner. Activating his omnitool, he started the automated injection process, which was slow. The initial near-strangulation had succeeded in knocking her out, but Aria had been keeping her unconscious though the use of an intravenous drip. Pushing those drugs out of her system took nearly three minutes.
As consciousness slowly returned to Liara T'Soni, her eyes fluttered behind a tinted visor.
Liara's first breath was hard, as if sucking in through a straw. When combined with her last memories of being choked by Wrex, the young asari started to panic.
"Calm down!" The human doctor said, touching her shoulder. "Just keep breathing. While unconscious, your breathing was shallower and you didn't clear the filters properly."
Being a scientist, Liara had over 100 years of experience in noticing that which others deemed irrelevant. The first thing to pop into her head was why she felt so very constricted. The second, and more disturbing, was why, exactly, did she have to breath through a filter? As her eyes finally focused, an audible gasp escaped from between her lips.
Liara was bound to a wall, with metal shackles binding her arms and legs in a most uncomfortable "X" position, resulting in her feet hanging a mere inches from the ground. But it was what she was wearing that most alarmed her.
"An envirosuit, Liara." Harlan announced. "Of the quarian style, with modifications to the helmet for..." He waved his hand in a twirling motion, attempting to find the correct word, before determining that a derogatory description would have to suffice. "...your tentacle head. Doc. Show her the mirror."
The human doctor nodded, moving a full length mirror in front of Liara. She gasped again. Either the crippled quarian in front of her had some serious fetishes, or he was incredibly thorough. From the tip of the helmet she wore, to the soles of the boots that encased her feet, she looked remarkably quarian. Only the width of her hips, the extra fingers and toes, and the increased depth of her helmet gave away that an asari was underneath the suit. Upon examining her face, or what she could see through the polarized visor, Liara suddenly noticed that she could actually see her eyes. "H-how," she stammered, "did you make my eyes glow?"
The crippled quarian winked. "Don't worry, my dear. Simple, temporary injections. Wanted the look to be complete, you know? So tell me, how does it feel? You came to us in a hardsuit, but this must be something new. Tell me."
Liara hesitated, pulling slightly on her restraints, testing them. Futile, she determined. They were well secured. "Well," she started, far more willing to talk than... whatever the quarian in front of her wanted to do with her, bound as she was. "The helmet has to be the oddest. Watching myself talk in this mirror, I can't help to find the little light that flickers annoying."
Harlan clasped his hands together, squinting at her. "Annoying? Your completely cut off from the outside world, and the light attracts your attention!? Imagine being stuck in that suit, for years at a time. Unable to eat solid foods. Unable to feel the wind. Unable to smell anything without it going through three layers of filtering."
As the quarian started to rant, Liara tried activating her biotics, but nothing happened. The room has biotic dampeners, she thought. This man has thought of everything.
Harlan continued, "And what do the races of the citadel do? They call us beggars and thieves! And they sip their wine and eat their caviar as they do it! A quarian tries to get a job, and they call him a vagrant. You show that you have had other employers, and they tell you that you are too expensive to maintain! So what happens? That quarian ends up sleeping in some charity, eating paste. And what do people say? 'Why don't you go get a job'?! Its a fuckin' circle!"
Liara, listening to the quarian yell, became increasingly concerned. It was bad enough that she was bound upon a wall, dressed in what she assumed he deemed 'sexy'. But by judging his voice, Liara determined that the quarian had to be far past the age in which your average quarian finished their pilgrimage. And he spoke of poverty, but this room was extremely well furnished. Liara had meant it to be a mental thought, but she for some reason vocalized the question that was relaying in her head. "Just who are you?"
The crippled quarian was quiet for a few seconds, and Liara feared he hadn't heard her. He gave a hand signal to the doctor, who promptly left the room, before responding. "My name is Harlan'Con. I don't have a "ship name", they strip that from you when exiled. Being the information broker you are, you may have heard of some of my nicknames. My favorite? One-shot."
Had Harlan been able to see Liara's face, he would have seen her jaw drop. Living within the Terminus Systems, who hadn't heard of One-Shot? She tried to remember what her contacts had said of the man. He was a major slaver, but ranking by quantity, he hadn't even cracked the top ten. No, she remembered, One-Shot was a specialist. That approach had made him one of the richest men in the Terminus Systems, although no-one knew what he looked like. The fact that he was a quarian caused Liara to shutter. One-Shot had aimed his nickname by being the premier source for female quarian slaves for "recreational purposes" as he advertised. After those female quarians had been... used... they generally died. Someone had joked that you only got "One-Shot" with them, and the name had stuck.
"Your a monster..." Liara mumbled.
"More like a businessman, Liara." Harlan replied. "I saw the system that the galaxy had built for the quarian people: a system of repression and ridicule. What was the point, I thought, of returning to the Fleet, when every quarian on pilgrimage would face persecution? That was running away from a problem that needed fixing. So I decided to attempt to sway the council, for quarian rights. Pretty soon, though, I realized that lobbying required money, so I looked for other ways in which to fund my efforts. Slaving had the highest profit margin..." He shrugged, "...so I started slavin'. Made more money then I knew what to do with, and kind of lost sight of helping my people. Got older, I guess. Less altruism, or maybe the rampant capitalism outside of the Fleet rubbed off on me. Hell, if they just dumped that socialist economy they have been running, maybe the Fleet wouldn't be such a piece of shit, and I would have never needed to lobby the council."
The young asari, bound as she was, could not stop her anger from flaring. "Why hurt the quarian people then!? Taking young ones while they are on pilgrimage?"
Harlan wheeled his chair closer to Liara, until he was within a few feet. "Like I said, for the money. Do you know how many wealthy perverts out their want to see whats under a quarian mask? Under a quarian suit? You're wearin' one now. What do you think? Does it's tightness not tempt those who look upon you? Hell, and the fact that they die after they get used is just good news for everyone. I have a consistent demand that needs fulfilling, and my customers don't get attached to who their screwin'!" The crippled quarian laughed at that, slapping a knee in an outward show of humor. "Its so...easy, too! Young, naive quarians on their pilgrimage are always looking for other quarians to help them. I offer that help, lure em' to a back alley, and my men jump em'. Its so funny to watch their faces as we cuff em'. Thinking about it now, its probably their eyes I like most. All filled with surprise and fear. Cute."
This conversation, to Liara at least, was surpassing disturbing. Had she not been bound to the wall, she was unsure if that quarian would be alive had she got her hands on him. Without the opportunity to hurt him, however, she tried to change the subject. "What do you have planned for me?"
At this point, the human doctor reentered the room, a small black briefcase in his hand. "Funny that you should ask that now," Harlan replied. "Couple weeks back, I tried the ol' lure a quarian trick. Been doing it for nearly thirty years now, so I wasn't expecting any trouble. But I just so happened to be speaking to Tali'Zorah vas Normandy." He spoke the name with contempt. "She must have recognized what I was doing, cuz' before I knew it, she had a shotgun in hand. Hit me good once," he paused to motion towards his wheelchair, "before my men hit her with a sniper rifle. Tough bitch though. Managed to get away, at least until she bled out."
This was the man who killed Tali! The revelation threw all of Liara's thoughts into a jumble. She couldn't, despite what her mind was telling her, stop questioning him. "So are you just going to... s-sell me?"
Harlan once again laughed as he took the briefcase from the human doctor. "No, Liara. You really don't see where this is going? I know Shepard is trying to bring back Tali. Hell, the man died himself! But I need particulars. Where? When? How? So you are going to tell me. Most importantly, I need to find out how to track the Normandy. Damn stealth system, and whatnot."
Liara, her bravery returning as the chance of her being sold as a slave lessened, nearly spit on the quarian opposite her. Only the realization that she still wore a quarian-style mask restrained her. "I will not tell you anything."
The quarian opened the briefcase, although the lid prevented her from seeing its contents. "And that is why you wear that suit." He paused, bringing his gaze back up to meet the silvery orbs that marked Liara's eyes. "Well, that's not true. Catching a young quarian is rare, and I must say I have some sort of attraction to the suit you where. You are... so close to being perfect. Only the legs, no recurve. Shame. But...," As Harlan broke from his musings, he once again returned his attention to the suitcase. "...that is not the main reason you are attired in such a way. You may or may not know that quarian suits are marvels of engineering. Able to, by themselves, heal cuts, scrapes, and other such wounds. Well..."
As Harlan trailed off, he lifted an object from the briefcase, into Liara's line of sight. It was a blade, almost 7 inches long. He chuckled, slowly running a finger along the knife. "When I ask a question, you will most probably either refuse to answer, or lie. Either way, I start cutting. And it would be a messy business, no doubt, if you weren't wearing that suit. But since you are? Well, it will automatically attempt to heal or fix any suit, and skin, punctures. Also, usually, it would try to apply some sort of painkiller or medigel. I have left your suit's reservoirs empty. Hate for you to forget the lessons your about to learn."
The more Harlan talked, the more Liara fought against her restraints. This quarian was going to torture her! "You can't do this, y-you bastard!" She shouted. "Sh-shepard will-"
"Shepard will do what, Liara?!" Harlan interjected. "Save you? No way in hell. Your dead to him, Liara. Don't really know why he left you, but I don't really care. I need answers to my questions. And the first question is: What is Shepard going to use to revive Tali?"
Liara stopped struggling, her eyes locking onto his. Although two layers of glass, and at least six feet, separated them, Harlan felt a cold chill run down his spin. "Fuck you." She growled.
Harlan gave the briefcase back to the doctor. "We are going to have some fun!" As he rolled his chair directly next to Liara, the asari again began to struggle. "Now, then..." He mumbled, bringing the blade up to her side.
Liara thrashed as the blade sunk into her flesh, just below her ribs.
Checking the clock, Harlan let the bloodied blade drop into the doctor's hand, who immediately began cleaning it. It had taken nearly six hours, and ultimately 132 cuts, but he finally had the answers he needed. As Harlan rolled his chair towards the door, he looked over his shoulder to the human. "Dump the body, doc. I need to sleep."
Continues in Chapter 8: Revenge and Resolution
And, again, please review. Please!
