2182

"We thank you for applying for our News Team, however, we regret to inform you that- uhg!" Khalisah grumbled as she filed the fifteenth rejection letter she had received that week away.

Here she was. Graduated well above the average of her class. A self-made woman. A dogged and relentless researcher that double checked her facts, well aware of social and economic triggers in language.

Even the MLA guidelines would have bowed in deference to her!

All these accolades for her to use and none of the major networks wanted her. She even tried applying for citizenship for several of the other council races to be an ET-Liaison for their fluff pieces on different species. Still nothing.

Her face scrunched in disgust as she looked at the datapad that had been delivered to her a few days before. It was the only acceptance letter she had gotten, however, it was for the network she wanted to even think about the least.

Ronald McCabe. CEO of Westerlund News.

Westerlund News? That was a contradiction in terms. They were in the pockets of some of the most xenophobic, racist, and some would say inbred, families on Earth. To hear about some of the people that owned the station was frightening, even if they were unsubstantiated rumors. Ranged from wealthy business owners who insisted that their children do not marry or reproduce with people of darker skin tone, to megalomaniacs who insisted that no alien influence of any kind be allowed to 'taint' humanity.

She smirked when she remembered Westerlund's failed attempts at getting Fornax shut down on 'moral grounds', which was just a flimsy excuse and only seemed to bring their xenophobia to the forefront. They had no idea just how powerful the human libido was when it came to aliens.

And they wanted to hire her.

She'd been having this same internal debate for the past two days. When the rejection letters started pouring in and the savings account grew smaller, she had to make a decision and soon. The last thing she wanted to do was go back home, aware that her time had been wasted for something she couldn't get her foot into.

She then, woefully, went over to the datapad, located the signature point, put in her acceptance of their terms, which she had gone over with a fine toothed comb, and sent the signal.

The screen went blank and the picture of Mr. McCabe appeared with a self-satisfied smirk on it. The man would best be described as a Tower of Oil with his hair slicked back, dressed up like an Armenian Mobster with a thick, black mustache and a permanent smarm just for good measure.

"Hello, Ms. al-Jilani. Glad to see you come aboard. We at Westerlund only want the best and that was why we sent for you," the man said confidently. "We expect our time together to be a mutually beneficial one and that only the best could come from our business relationship."

Khalisah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew PR speak when she heard it and this had all the earmarks of 'We're going to suck you dry like a leech and unless you either hit or put out, you're going nowhere, toots!'.

"Thank you for having me, Mr. McCabe," she answered cordially.

"You're most welcome, Ms. al-Jilani," he said before he took a long, and unnecessary drag from his cigar, "I assume you have all your paperwork in order?"

"I do, sir," she said, hating herself with each passing moment and holding the bile in at the sight of the man on the screen.

"Good. I'll book you on the next flight back to Houston and we can talk about your potentially lucrative, and successful, future here at Westerlund," he said with a smirk of his own.

"Thank you, sir," she noted, happy to know that her already shrinking savings wouldn't take a hit. It was expensive at the University of Sirona and the fares for intergalactic travel were not much better.

When the connection was cut, she flopped down on her bed face down, wondering what she had done.

Another beep from her omni-tool notified her of the flight she was to take. She had a day's time to get ready, which wasn't too bad, however, she frowned when she noticed a detail she should have asked about.

The ticket was only one way, the message also indicated she would need to return to Sirona once she was done with her interview, provided it went well, to prepare her to move to the Citadel, which was a league more expensive than living planetside. Of course they weren't going to pick up the check.

"Ebn el sharmoota," she groaned into her pillow in her native Arabic.

"Thank you, I'm Khalisah bint sinan al-Jilani and this has been Westerlund News," she said with a false smile and a nod towards her camera drone as the feed eventually cut.

She then thanked her interviewee for his time and walked off, leaving the scandalized salarian as she looked for a hole to crawl into. The questions she wanted to ask were tossed into the incinerator and the questions she *had* took precedence to the point she had to keep the bile in her throat. She was so much better at asking the hard questions than this.

Yes, there were times when you needed to go into uncomfortable territory in order to get some kind of response, but the questions Mr. McCabe had been sending to her were downright vicious. They were written specifically to make the interviewee uncomfortable.

"But Mr. McCabe," she had tried to reason with him, "people won't even want to speak with me if word gets around that it's all that I do?"

McCabe only laughed at the prospect. "All the better. That means that you need to know when to strike them at their most vulnerable. I'll send you a few more replacement drones just in case."

She sighed and leaned her forearm against the wall with her head nestled against it. She was getting good pay. She had a very flexible work schedule. Great benefits. Connections. Music students would kill to be in her position.

So, why did she feel like her stomach was full of hate for people she didn't even know? She had figured out a long time ago that you shouldn't hate someone because someone told you to, or because of some arbitrary label from someone else. No, the real reason why you should hate someone is because you know them and they're a completely insufferable douchebag.

For anything else, you simply disliked them and went your own way.

"Khali, is that you?" a familiar voice she hadn't heard in ages said from behind.

She turned to see Emily, in her usual obnoxious pink attire that she loved more than anything, with several files in her arms.

"Hello, Emily," she said as she pushed herself off the wall and faced her old friend, "it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Emily nodded eagerly. "I'll say. It's been a nightmare trying to write my Extra-Terrestrial Communications Thesis and working at my internship at Citadel News."

Khalisah balked. "Citadel News?"

Unaware that she had been applying to them for years, but had been rejected for reasons she was never privy to, Emily nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! First time too! Weird, isn't it? And they're going to give me my first news column as soon as I graduate on Human-Alien relations!"

Khalisah's eye fought back a twitch. She had been hoping for the same position. After all, she had been the top of her class in the Advanced Alien Cultural Studies 480 class.

"And if I play my cards right, I just might be the youngest newscaster that gets to operate on the Citadel! And-" she would have continued had Khalisah's omni-tool not beeped loudly.

She took advantage of the noise to stop the conversation, noting that it was merely her stress monitor going off into dangerous levels. "Ah, sorry Emily, but I need to go. Got another interview I need to get to. We'll talk later. Ok? Bye," she quickly shot off before she summoned her drone and walked the opposite direction Emily had come from, holding back a stream of vicious profanities born of jealously.

She grit her teeth and struck the side of her fist against the wall in the elevator. It didn't hurt, but the rage she felt at the time made her hand sore.

That was supposed to have been her job, dammit!

She put in the time! She put in the effort! She paid her dues! And for what?! Some dead end job for a bunch of inbred assholes!

She didn't want to blame Emily. She was a good girl and she no doubt worked for it. But it was nigh impossible for her to not feel some pangs of jealousy and anger for getting something easily that she never got after all the hard work she put into it.

She was about to sniff when another ring from her omni-tool broke her out of her self-induced pity party.

It was Varicia. The matron who was with that vicious old matriarch from a while ago. They had a few meals together to speak about current events and what not. However, her busy schedule prevented her from meeting her as much as she would have liked. They did, however, speak regularly for the past half year.

"Hello?" she asked blearily.

"Oh, hello!" the voice on the other end responded blithely, "I was afraid you were busy and I'm happy you're not."

Truth be told, she was happy the asari called her. "Just finished a job. What can I do for you?"

"Well, it had been a while and I was unsure as to human interaction habits if asking you to another meal at my apartment would not be too forward of me," Varcia politely asked.

That was one of the things she liked about the asari. She was tactful, almost to a fault. She'd have made a great politician if she were so inclined. However, she was more attracted to the ideas of slowly changing asari society for the better, which, Khalisah guessed, was why she followed that old battle axe. Why she decided to leave her successful Thessian Law practice and become Aethyta Polotheas' acolyte, she'd never know, however, the kickbacks she got left her comfortable enough and would for a long time, given how frugal she was.

And right now, she could go for a nice distraction from the fact that her life had taken a turn for the less than ideal.

"It wouldn't be forward at all. In fact, your timing's perfect," she answered with a weary smile.

She could hear the glee in the asari's voice. "Oh, wonderful! We can set up a time for when it's best for you. It would be uncouth of me if I were not a gracious host."

Khalisah chuckled. "You nothing if not a gracious host, Varicia."

"Oh, thank you."

Khalisah was grateful for the meal. However, she had to take into consideration just how much asari food she could eat, as she had heard somewhere that since all asari were natural biotics, the calorie count was much higher in their food than in human food.

"And so, Madam Aethyta just took another job on Illium," Varicia noted despondent, "as a bar tender. A bar tender! It's crime, I tell you! She shouldn't be serving drinks on a Trading planet run by overly paranoid business bureaucrats, she should be on Theissa, verbally whipping our people into shape... if that's how the human saying goes."

Khalisah smiled sadly as Varcia as she continued.

"She is one of the few people in our society that has the experience most in High Command do not. She understands that the asari as a whole are falling behind, regardless of the fact that we've established the galactic council."

"What do you suppose is what's holding the asari back?" Khalisah probed, feeling like a real reporter for once.

"Oh, many things," she began, slightly exasperated, "mostly; whatever keeps most civilizations from progressing; social conservatism. People are happy with the status quo and would prefer it not change. I can understand that. One cannot expect a society to grow when it's in constant turmoil, but to allow little to nothing for change is just as bad. It leads to stagnation."

Going over a few notes in her head, Khalisah then asked, "what was something that has helped asari society, you think?"

Varicia clapped her hands together. "Oh, the Siari philosophy, definitely. Made my people realize that we can look upward and outward to where our future can take us."

Khalisah swallowed a small piece of sweet Thessian fruit before asking, "and I take it, that's a reason why Athemist influence has declined as much as it has?"

She nodded. "Of course. Considering most of our shamanic and tribal traditions were annexed into the Doctrines of Atheme, Siari was a bit of a nebulous way of thinking that was so out of the ordinary, it's a wonder there are still people who still worship the Goddess in a literal sense."

"And yourself?"

Varicia smiled whenever Khalisah asked her about herself, since there were few who ever did. "Well, I like to think of myself as someone who believes that one can't go forward without remembering where one came from. Which is why I find it kind of sad how most asari merely invoke the name of the Goddess in exclamation or a base expletive. There's no respect for our roots."

Khalisah shrugged as she finished the piece of meat Varicia imported from Thessia. "Well, if it's any comfort, I don't think yours would be the first society that had a hard time struggling between faith, religion, and culture."

"What about you? You once told me you always went to a weekly worship when you used to live on Earth."

She leaned back a bit and smiled at the memory of her father having to be between herself and her brother during Friday Worship in order to prevent them from poking each other to see who would break first. Oh, the headaches her poor father had to endure with rowdy children.

"I did. However, the chances of actually finding a mosque in any of the colonies, let alone churches or synagogues, are pretty slim. So, I have to make do at home. Most of Islam stayed on Earth, can't blame them, really. I mean, around a century and a half ago, most people in the 'civilized world' couldn't tell the difference between a Sunni and a Shia. What are the chances wards on the Citadel would celebrate Ramadan?"

Varicia smiled. She visibly enjoyed it whenever Khalisah talked about her culture, her family, or Earth.

"Now I'm rambling. Sorry," Khalisah muttered, aware that Varicia had taken the time to prepare a meal she had prepared for her and she was not being a gracious guest.

She looked at her empty plate and was about to thank Varcia for her time when the asari stood up, walked to her side, gently took her hand and kissed it.

Khalisah found herself shocked and surprised.

Asari, despite the image many thought of them, did not do something so intimate with anyone in public. This was basically a declaration that any asari that was committed to you, your ideals, or your heart. It could be refused and, while disappointing, no insult would be taken for something so personal.

However, seeing Varicia, who had befriend her, trusted her, believed in her, had shown that she wished to be with her in a more personal manner, was flattering beyond words.

"Are you sure, Varicia? I mean, I won't live to see you become a matriarch," she answered, apprehensive for her sake.

"I know, Khalisah. However, you possess an intellect and a courage that I respect. And I desire to know of it more," she whispered in all earnestness.

Khalisah gave her a lop-sided smile, "even if I do work for a hyper conservative and xenophobic news channel?"

Varicia only smiled in response. "I know. However, that's not you. It never was. The woman in front of me is the Khalisah al-Jilani that pleases my heart and pleases me. And I am yours, if you will have me."

Khalisah couldn't lie, she had grown very fond of the asari and considering all they had been through, it didn't sound like such a bad prospect at all. To think it all started with that matriarch headbutting her.

"I have no experience at all being with asari, however, I don't think I'd mind, considering it's you," Khalisah said as she took Varcia's right hand, brought it to her face, and kissed the back of it.

Varicia's smile turned excited as she slowly pulled Khalisah up from her chair, wrapped her arms around Khalisah's waist and kissed her. When she had kissed back, she wondered if she was even doing it right, since most of the time girls, or boys for that matter, were an afterthought for most of her life. However, if Varica's gasping for air, dragging her into her bedroom, and kissing her again was of any indication, she was, apparently doing it right.

Asari skin texture, Khalisah found out as Varicia guided her hands to her cheek, was a lot smoother than she was led to believe. To her surprise, the smile the asari gave her didn't change as she slowly dragged her hand downward, gently opening up the robe to reveal the matron's body to her.

Khalisah's gaze jumped from Varicia's torso to her face, and noticing the purple blush that started to develop when it dawned on her;

She had no T'Cra, that was basically a circle of confidants with whom she would have regularly interacted with, and considering asari considered sex no different than a shared meal or a walk in the park, this was a not a small thing for her.

Khalisah knew she was about to pass a threshold she probably would not be able to go back from, however, she was too fond of the matron to reconsider. So, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Varicia's bare torso, angled her face to her and kissed her back.

There was genuine joy in Varicia's smile as she was kissed and whispered her name as she assisted Khalisah out of her own dress. She liked the warmth the human's skin exuded as it was touched.