"How foolish can you be? Leiada?" came a very cross-sounding voice on a holo-call. It took Aurelia a moment to recognise the voice belonged to none other than Councilor Tevos.
In Aurelia's awakening haze, she quickly realised that this was a private conversation and she shouldn't be here to listen in. Attempting to roll over discreetly from her position on Leiada's sofa, every bone in her back seemed to click as she performed the movement. Lying flat like this wasn't good for her posture.
Aurelia tried her best to remain quiet and out of sight; dropping to the floor on her stomach, she found there was nowhere else to crawl to. The sofa was situated in the middle of the living area far from the door and no other furniture in close proximity.
"What would your father say?" So far Leiada had remained silent over the ear bashing, as Tevos seemed to lash out at the maiden trying to get a rise out of her. Aurelia could tell by the way the atmosphere in the room seemed to darken that perhaps that last line had done it.
"What, you want me to apologise?" came a little cocky response; Aurelia could hear Leiada's trademark grin. In her mind it was all teeth and completely threatening. "Well I'm not. So you had a few more pampered butts to sweet talk, but we both know you're good at that."
Aurelia's couldn't help but wonder what she would do if any of her children spoke to her like that, especially after embarrassing her the way Leiada had Tevos. She guessed she'd clip an errant child around the head, but she was almost certain she wouldn't have any children with Leiada's issues. It was hard to think of the asari as a child, especially when she out-aged her by more than a couple hundred years, but she was a child in asari eyes-one that wielded a gun and licence to wreak havoc. However inappropriate her position was, it kept Leiada out of seedy clubs-well almost out of them.
A growl echoed from Tevos at that point, "My office, ten minutes, NOW." With a click the call was over.
Not wasting a second, Aurelia took the opportunity to sit up, her back creating a few more clicks as she did so. She watched the young asari stare at the screen for a moment; fists clenched repressing her rage.
"Are you going to be alright?" Aurelia asked softly, feeling a little awkward that she had been present to hear Leiada berated by her mother, if she was honest.
Leiada spun around on the balls of her feet and flashed a tired-looking smile. "She'll have to catch me first," the asari boasted before stretching herself. It had been a restless night for the both of them. "I'll lay low for a little while, let her cool before I go looking for trouble."
Aurelia laughed wearily and rubbed the back of her neck; it felt like every muscle was tangled with every plate. "You could just not look for trouble?" Her words fell on deaf ears, but Aurelia was compelled to share her little tidbits of wisdom; she had no one else to share them with.
Leiada snorted at the well given advise. "What fun would life be then?" Aurelia simply just shook her head; there was no point flogging a dead varren. With her dress feeling heavy on her aching body, she smoothed over the fabric and let out a weary sigh. "I should head home; thank you by the way. I didn't feel like going home last night."
Leiada nodded briefly as she fiddled with her omni-tool, Aurelia presumed preparing to miraculously vanish from the councillor's line of fire.
"Anytime, will you be alright?"
With another sigh Aurelia nodded her head in agreement and headed for the door. "The best thing about going to that ball has to be the one day of paid holiday. Syro should be at work. I'm sure he didn't even notice my absence." With that she excused herself out of Leiada's apartment and made her way to the cross-ward metro, feeling a little out of place walking the streets in what was clearly an evening dress.
***OBAH***
While her journey had gone smoothly thus far, it wasn't until she was at Bachjret transport hub that her feet fused to the floor. Aurelia didn't want to go home. Even if Syro wasn't there, she just didn't want to face the empty rooms and halls.
Breathing deeply, she turned right instead of left, moving in the opposite direction from the apartment. She a day to herself and she determined to do something for herself for a change, perhaps buy something to change into so others wouldn't look at her like she was a 'dirty stop-out'.
Aurelia wasn't one for shopping; she despised females that spent their days at the malls and bazaars as if they had nothing better to do with themselves. But after passing through a munitions store, followed by a tech and entertainment shop, she began to quietly enjoy herself. Once she reached the tailors, carrying her tiny packages of carefully chosen mods for her rifle, she didn't even mind the look the cashier gave her when she handed over the tags to be scanned and proudly announced she would be wearing her outfit out of the store.
Once outside, a rumble in her gizzard confirmed that it was time to eat; it was about lunchtime anyway. She hadn't even broken her fast since last night. "Terrible habits," she muttered to herself, remnants of her mother telling her the importance of nutrition-the fast always should be broken, even if she went the entire day with nothing else, always remember to break the fast.
It was at the food court that her nose caught the smell of roasting meat marinated in something sweet, the air sticky with the sensation. Perhaps it was the fact that she was so distracted by her guiding stomach that the call of 'STOP, THIEF!' didn't bring her to alert attention right away. She turned towards the call, but her eyes initially missed the small object that bumped into her at quite a speed; it could have knocked the turian off her feet had she not been a collection of bone, plate and sinew.
Her packages went flying, but her hands quickly grabbed the shoulder of the small turian in front of her whose face slowly came into focus as she kneeled down to his level. He was a small turian child, incredibly dirty as she could smell more than a week's worth of filth on him. Her nose wrinkled at the burn. But for a moment she was lost in his large ocean blue eyes, wide with terror before they narrowed in anger.
"Hey, let go of me!" he cried out as he tried to kick himself free, his voice far too high and the two distinct vocals of her race missing as his sub-vocals hadn't dropped. It was then instinct kicked in with Aurelia. She spun the child roughly by grappling his shoulder while her other hand twisted his arm till he was in a perfect grapple. He struggled a little, testing each side of her grab, but each exit was blocked by the promise of pain. He screamed and kicked in a tantrum before dissolving into a defeated whimper.
It was then a salarian sales clerk come running up to the pair and a quickly gathering crowd. "Ah good, you caught the duct bastard. Little thieves. All day long they steal from my shop. I've waited a long time to get my hands on one." He rubbed his hands in a menacing fashion that made Aurelia narrow her eyes and tighten the arm that was across the boy's throat. She drew him closer to her, so much so his developing crest dug into her abdomen.
"The law isn't for you to take in your own hands," she replied dutifully, but the clerk just scoffed," I don't see any cops here, do you?"
She snorted in response, "I happen to be with C-Sec."
The clerk looked her up then down as if she was a liar, which made Aurelia want to slap the salarian across the face. He must have read her thoughts as he quickly stopped and looked embarrassed. "Well of course officer, I assume you'll be taking the child in. Will you be taking my official complaint now? I want to make sure this delinquent isn't here to take advantage of me."
"Ugh," she muttered audibly. That's the last thing she wanted to do right now, be at work. But it would keep her from going home.
"No please!" squealed the child in her arms as he attempted to struggle free from her. She held him even closer till his crest dug in so much it hurt. "Hush, yourself," she said soothingly, then barked back at the clerk, "I'm off duty, right now, but you can come down to the Academy and make an official complaint tomorrow."
The salarian blinked with his two strange eyelids and sighed. "Very well," he said as he began picking up the items the child dropped. Aurelia noticed that they were just simple dehydrated ration packs, not even the high grade kind. She felt her heart suddenly break. The child had been stealing food.
A kindly observer collected her own parcels and held them out for Aurelia to take. She loosened her grip on the child, but made sure she still had a firm grasp on his wrist. She took them and carefully placed them in the bag that held her clothing. By now the crowd had begun to disperse and the child started wailing again. "Please, don't. The other kids won't take me back if I come back without food. They'll know I was arrested!" She tugged on his arm, and dragged him away from the market and out of earshot.
"Please, I don't want to go to jail!" he continued and she sighed and brought him closer, bending down to his height.
"Quiet yourself," she commanded a lot harsher than she meant to. She sighed again and shook her head. She was breaking protocol, but there was no hope for kids like him. They would only send him into the foster programme, prone to abuse at every level. Sometimes the most unattractive option was better-he was far too young to go to jail. "I'm hungry, aren't' you?" she said, attempting to sound like Officer Pallin but more like herself, trying to smile. The child stopped struggling for a moment, those large blue eyes wide with curiosity and less with fright.
They found a nice open cafe, not too busy despite it being lunch time. The child wolfed down three trays of food and was already on fourth, barely stopping to breathe as he inhaled the food like it was his last. Aurelia had finished her lunch quickly. Working a beat she'd learnt to eat quickly or end up not eating at all. She sipped on her drink and watched the child with quiet pleasure. This was the right thing to do. The warm feeling she was getting was reward enough to knock all thoughts of guilt for not following protocol.
"What's your name?" she asked as the child gasped for a break taking large gulps of his drink.
"Click," he said before shovelling more food into his waiting mouth. Aurelia laughed, she could understand why he had gotten that name-his mandibles slammed hard against his jaw while he talked, a horrible speech impediment. The syllable was used often in turian dialects, but this child did it too often.
"Young, man, I am an officer of the law, and your elder. Show me some respect with your real name, not your 'street' name," she said with a smile as she rested her head on the back of her hand.
He stopped and looked up at her, considering her person rather than her words and shook his head. "You're not a cop; you're too nice and pretty." She raised a brow plate at that, but he swallowed his food and nodded to himself as if coming to an agreement about something.
"Aegidius used to be my name," he said quietly, before he drank a little more.
"Aegidius..." she repeated with a nod, before reaching for a damp napkin. She took his jaw in her fingers, scrubbing at his face. His name was a bit of a mouthful; 'Click' would serve them just well.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Click protested, smacking her hand away.
"I'm just seeing if there is a handsome turian face beneath all that dirt to go with that handsome name," Aurelia flattered and sat back in her chair to take in his visage. "Why, bless the spirits there is! You would never have known." Aurelia wasn't just flattering him, she spoke truthfully; he had a fine facial structure, high cheek-bones, long mandibles and a very straight nose. His plates were pleasing silver, with a metallic blue sheen to them much like his eyes; he would be a very handsome male once he reached maturity.
Click looked at his food, unsure what to say before he pushed his plate away. It seemed his bottomless pit stomach actually did have a bottom and it was full. "Listen, lady. Thanks and all for the food, but I should be getting back."
"To your mother?" she quickly interrupted hoping to hold him here with her a little longer and learn more about him. But Click just shook his head. "No, don't have a mother."
"Ah" Aurelia replied, before sitting back in her chair. She was filled with rage and hurt all at once. "Where is she?"
"Don't know, I lost her in the market one day. She said for me to wait by the fountain while she went to speak to a friend, but I lost her in all the people."
He had been abandoned. Aurelia felt her heart sink. She was hoping she had died, or something of that sort. Her rage grew. There was nothing she wanted more than a child of her own and yet there were mothers out there abandoning their offspring. There was no excuse; Aurelia couldn't forgive the faceless female.
"Don't worry, I have a new family now, other lost kids like me. We all stick together out here," Click replied to her silent concern in a much happier tone. "When I'm big like the older boys they'll let me work for them, so I don't have to be on food duty anymore!" he said, excited at his future prospects. Aurelia felt awful. She knew about the street gangs, hidden in the lower wards of the Citadel, run by men and teenagers, a life that led down only one path. She wondered how many years it would be before she saw this youth with gang marking at the other end of her gun sight. If she had sense she would take him home with her right now and raise him as her own.
"Why not join the army, "she said hastily to push such inappropriate thoughts from her mind. "You can't be that far from your civil service." Aurelia looked him over again. He was small, but it could have been just malnutrition.
Click just shook his head. "The older ones say that the army don't take clan less bastards like us," he said sadly, as if he had already possessed the dream wholeheartedly and cast it aside crushed.
Aurelia settled her hand on his and rubbed the smooth surface of his hide. "That's not true, little one. The army is for all respectable turians to play their part for our society, do their duty, barefaced and clan less alike. Even a few of our occupied races even serve with the army to earn turian citizenship. There is nothing better than being a citizen. To move on from being a boy to becoming a man." She finished with a smile. Of course it would be hard for him and he would be treated like filth. His battles would be hard to fight, but he was a turian and not a member of an occupied species. He could fight and win and come out on top.
"Really!" he said hopefully his little face lighting up, brightly burning away the residue dirt and despair. She smiled wide and nodded, he then began counting on his fingers. "I am eleven now, so I just have four more years to wait!"
"My, not long at all." It wasn't a long time, but for Click, liveing hand to mouth and facing the ever present dangers of the duct rat, it might as well have been ten. But he could make it. After all, he had survived this long. "Plenty of time to train and keep yourself out of trouble."
Click looked down at his unfinished meal, appearing somewhat ashamed. "You are right; the army won't take a thief."
With that she bid farewell to him, handing him some legally bought food packages and few other things his friends could use. "Remember, Click, if you ever get into trouble, just come and find me." It was a token gesture; she most likely would never see him again, but she wanted to offer an out if he would take it.
He nodded and looked at the piece of thin-strip held in his hand. "Officer A. Pallin - #2887398," he read out slowly, sounding out the words silently before saying them.
"That's right. Aurelia Pallin. Remember, Click, any trouble."
He nodded a smile as big as anything she could possibly imagine. With his hands full of packages he scampered off disappearing between waves of people who just didn't see him.
***OBAH***
The lights of the room flickered on with their usual clinical brightness, leaving Seaina to flinch violently out of her drunken haze and pull the blankets higher over her head. She heard movement in the room; the 'help' didn't fear her enough to leave her alone. She was as invisible to them as she was to her son and husband. A wraith. No, wraiths were usually violent and held strength. She was meeker than that.
She peeled back satin sheets to peer out to see who or what had disturbed her isolation. Her eyes stung, her mouth felt fuzzy and every muscle in her body ached as if she had already received a weeks worth of beatings. Her eyes dragged along the edge of the room, scanning, until on the far side of her chambers she noticed the quarian. 'Filthy creature' she thought as she sneered in contempt. She didn't know why her husband Fibion hired such lowly class of servants. As if their household wasn't the laughing stock of the entire citadel-elite already.
The quarian began noisily uncovering a maintenance vent. Each metallic sound was like a cold blade to her brain. Sitting up suddenly with a growl she threw staring daggers to his back. Like everyone else he ignored her until he finished with his drill and set it to the floor. He truned his obscured face to her, white orbs seemingly floating in the void of purple of his helmet's visor. Those white eyes squinted, either smiling or sneering at her. Considering she had never seen him before, she assumed it was the former.
"Well someone looks like they had a good night," he said cheerily and quite informally. Didn't he know who she was and what he was, that he would casually chat to her like she was his friend?
"Do you mind!" she squeaked at him, her voice croaking where she hadn't used it in a while. She never had the kind of voice to command dominance; no, she wasn't a Pricia Cato who could halt a charging thresher maul with just one look. In her father's household, females were raised to be her father's ideal of a wife, mild mannered with good temperaments. Like mounts… Fibion, too, agreed with this philosophy. He came to her father and openly declared he wanted the prettiest of his daughters with the best temperament to breed a son on. Seaina did know however that she had a pleasant singing voice. She had been complimented on it many a time, but for the past decade or two she had very little reason to raise her voice in song.
The quarian stared back at her blankly with those ghastly eyes before turning back to his work. "Sorry mistress; but I've been ordered to work on the climate control. If your husband finds out I've been slow or sloppy it will be another pay cut I can't afford." It was just like her husband; he managed his servants like he managed his household-with an iron fist.
She was so god damn thirsty and too exhausted to argue to throw fits of hysterics to drive him out. She simply slinked out of the bed, putting on a robe, and walked to the bathroom. Splashing a little water on her face she made the mistake of looking at her own reflection. Green eyes stared back to her, looking hallow. Touching her cheeks she noticed she was gaunt. Seaina made a note to make sure she ate something today less she displease Fibion and rile him up into anger. That's how you survived here; you did nothing to cause him to notice you, and if his gaze passed you unnoticed then you were safe for that moment at least. That's how she survived; one awful day at a time
Raised voices a few rooms over startled her. She could hear the muffled argument through several plates of metal and concrete. Marax had not been following the golden rule of the house; he was so desperate for his father's approval he flung himself into the firing range each time.
Something smashed and the sound of something hitting the floor with a thud made her mind run wild. That noise sounded so familiar to a body hitting the floor... What if Fibion actually seriously hurt the boy this time? She froze as her gizzard riled and turned flips; she so badly wanted to go out there and protect her son. She swept out of the bathroom and to the door of her chamber. She was just about to press the floating green lock when a suited hand shot out in front of her, blocking the pad from her reach. Startled at the quarian's brazenness, tears began to fill her eyes as clenched fists fell to her sides.
White eyes stared at her intently. "I wouldn't go out there if I were you, ma'am." His accent was so thick, but the tone indicated someone telling you the natural dangers of the world rather than offering a kindly suggestion. She turned away quickly before the tears dropped. She didn't know what stung more: the fact that everyone knew their shame or the fact she didn't actually have the backbone to push past and do what she wanted anyway. She slunk back to her bed and pulled the blanket over her head. Sobbing silently as she had trained herself to do.
Her boy was a man now; she could no longer protect him.
***OBAH***
Double doors of a suite of Citadel apartments opened with their usual grace, though the gloomy figure standing within them made the household help scatter like vermin as if they'd slammed open. Pricia was on the warpath. She had spent the morning apologising to the turian and Citadel dignitaries for her son's involvement in the prank. The main culprit had vanished without a trace. No information could be found about the scantily clad asari he was gallivanting about the hall with; he refused to hand over her name to add insult to injury, claiming ignorance. But his mother she knew better.
She stalked through the main entrance, spying her second born standing on the balcony shooting blanks at clay disks. Her first born was not with him. It was obvious from the dreadful sound that what youth on the Citadel considered music today was blaring from his workshop where he was messing around with his ridiculous toys, inventions that never amounted to anything other than leaving oil stains all over the furniture. He was so much like his father.
This couldn't go on; her sons were not taking part in the greater plan of turian cause. It infuriated her; Pricia needed the support of her husband. She glided up the stairs to his top floor office and stormed in, baying for his blood. Pricia froze for a moment as her husband, who was on a call and managing several holo-screens at the same time, stopped mid-sentence and guided his eyes to look at her sideways, a smile creeping one side of his mandible. She loved that look; it boiled her blood...
"Did it hurt?" said the blue marked stranger after smiling at her the exact same way Max was now. He had casually swaggered up to her after sweeping up two glasses of wine in each hand. He now offered one to her.
"Did what hurt?" she replied, taking one of the glasses hesitantly. He stepped closer. She was almost the same height as him, and she had always been tall, scrawny and pale of colour due to her genetic disorder, the very depiction of ugliness. But here he stood, brazenly close to her and bent down to whisper in her ear.
"When you fell from heaven?" he replied. His breath tickled her hide and made her gizzard do flips.
She laughed, pushing the glass back into his hand, shaking her head and pressing her bare hand to her mouth. He must have taken a bet to come and hit on her with the cheesiest chat up line ever. She walked away from him...
Those blue markings were now replaced with proud Cato black and gold.
"I have to go. It seems my wife requires me." With a click at his ear, he sat down with sigh, his head rolling to the ceiling lazily as he fully reclined in his in chair. He was wary, she could tell. He had been pushing himself harder since the boys had come back from training; they both had so much to do and such little time. Max finally offered a hand for her to take.
Pricia didn't take it. She stood her ground and tilted her chin in her usual headstrong way.
"Do you know where you're sons are?" she enquired as he rolled his head in his cowl as he adjusted it.
"Judging from the sound of gunfire, Vibus is shooting and judging from the sound of music and drilling, Tiberius has finally returned to his work."
Pricia snorted. "Work? Is that what you call it?" Tutting and sighing, she pressed her fingers to her forehead. "When they went away for national service, I thought they would come back changed. I sent away boys expecting men to return but-" she sighed again and sunk into a sofa. She was tired; her mind never stopped running through all the jobs she had left to do. Her sons were grown; it wouldn't be long before one of them would take over. She wanted that more than anything, to see them happily married with offspring of their own and finally she and Maximus could retire and just enjoy each other...
"I can't retire. I've worked too hard for what I have." His back was to her. A storm was brewing over the mountains; lightning flashed and a low rumble could be heard miles off.
"Work? Is that what you call it?" she snorted. She stood on the boundary of room and balcony.
"Pricia, that isn't fair. You've always known what I have always been."
She tried everything not to stamp her foot in her rage. She wasn't one for playing meek. She had always gotten her own way.
"This isn't fair. As for always knowing, that isn't true either." Pricia tried a light hearted smile, but he wasn't looking at her. He was hunched over the balcony hands clenching the marble fencing.
"We could always try something different," she said approaching him slowly before resting a hand on his back. "You could always work for daddy; no one can deny you are talented."
"Everything has its own time and place, Pricia."
He repeated that line now. "Everything has its own time and place, Pricia." Maximus got out of his chair and crossed the room in his usual confident strides before resting his arms on her bony shoulders. She was still tall and thin, even if motherhood had filled her out a bit more, but he loved her anyway. She sunk into his grip briefly, letting his thumbs rub away her cares till he started to toy with the broaches of her stola at her shoulders.
"Max..." Pricia cooed as she caught a single strap on her bicep and pulled it back up to its rightful place. "We have a serious problem here. Vibus is twenty and Tiberius twenty-five but you would think both of them were no older than fifteen the way that they behave."
He sighed and released her, a playful wounded smile on his face. "Well, you can't blame me for trying." Maximus left her there and began to pace, his hand gripping his jaw. "What do you want me to do, snowflake?" He stopped to face her. She loathed that pet name. It made her seem like something light and delicate. Pricia Cato was anything but! Maximus claimed it was because she was solely unique, but it was obvious that her unnatural colouring played a part.
"Something, anything! I've always had to be the voice of discipline with our sons, but they seemed to inherit more than just your good looks. It seems you threw your complacency for the law in there as well."
Maximus smirked. He was always so composed nothing seemed to throw him. "You always know where to strike me hardest," he said pressing his fist to his heart before sliding beside her and taking her hands. "Do you think it would benefit them to give them more responsibility, would that make you happy?"
Pricia sighed, relieved she finally got what she wanted. "Greatly. Do you even know which of our sons will succeed you?"
Maximus shrugged. He had this way of shrugging off important details, and it infuriated her. "It isn't for me to say. The tradition in your family has always been the child who climbs highest in citizenship. I don't see Vi getting any higher than grade 4; like you said my love, he got my complacency. But Ti, he has potential if we cultivate it."
She stroked the back of his hand while he spoke, taking in his word. He was right. Vibus was quite the clown-a good shot, but he refused to go to the army and make use of his skill. What Maximus called potential in Tiberius she called time wasting, constantly toying with bits of metal. The workshop back on Terra Prima was filled with half-finished projects of his 'inventions.' As much as Max joked that his son's took after him, Pricia knew that Tiberius temperament was more her fault. It pained her to even think of her grave mistake.
"Fine, if you think it will work. As long as it keeps him out of trouble; as much as Vibus acts the fool, he is not as rebellious as Tiberius."
Maximus laughed, it was deep and hearty and filled her heart with joy. He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and drew her face closer to hers. "If I didn't know you better, I would think you had favourites." He pressed his forehead against hers for a brief moment, allowing her to cup either side of his head. She ran her fingers over deepening cracks in his plates, the tell-tale signs of aging. But they weren't too old just yet; she could still gift him with one more child...She shook her head, dismissing the thought; she didn't need the distraction of a child right now, especially since her sons seemed hell bent on self-destruction.
"What are you shaking your head at?" Maximus asked her with a tilt of his head as he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close for a moment; they didn't share nearly enough intimacies like this.
"Nothing, just a fleeting fancy. Now tell me, Max, your plans for this expedition. Please tell me you've taken my advice and found a different investor in a different mining company."
He let out a very tired grunt and released her, slouching back in the curve of the sofa. "Please Pricia, not this, not again. We have been over this. No mining company is as rich as Fibion's -"
She cut him short as her desperation and anger raised. "He hates our family and he's a snake!"
It was Maximus' turn to cut her short this time with a raised palm. She flinched at the insult. "He is many things, but as a shrill business partner there is no other. He is a capable and very rich turian. I'm not having this conversation with you again. As your husband I put my foot down on this." Pricia stood up smoothly, letting the fine weave of her dress fall over her legs. He never put his foot down. They were equals in this marriage, partners, and he was actually pulling rank on her. She wouldn't stand for this.
"As you say husband," she said blandly with a gentle nod of her head before sweeping out the room. If Max wouldn't put an end to this, then she certainly would...with or without him.