Strange Transmission
Liara sat at the mess table of the MSV Alcmene moving the food on her tray around with her spork. Though her stomach protested, she found she couldn't bring herself to eat much. The humans had managed to find eiza for her to add to the food, but it lacked the nutty taste of the asari-made ready meals she had become accustomed to on her digs and only served to turn the gray meat into lumps of red and violet instead of the lavender she was used to. She forced another bite, scraping the thick, gelatinous glob from the spork with her teeth and chewing slowly. The texture was sticky, squishy, and… and… wrong. Meat was supposed to be fragrant, chewy and nutty. She swallowed and took a drink of her water to wash it down.
How did humans eat this?
The sound of boots and scratching on the deck caught her attention and she looked up as she put the glass down. Joker had entered the module and was shuffling on his crutches to the ship's galley. He didn't acknowledge her, didn't even look over at her. She ignored him and went back to trying to eat. Human food, while palatable to asari, tasted so… funny, and the textures were just as varied as their colorings. Depending on what type you got, it was too spicy, not spicy enough, too squishy, or just plain – though she liked what the humans she encountered referred to as "fragrant" meat from a type of animal called gaegogi which was the closest to any of the asari meats Liara could relate to.
Joker finished making his meal and sat at the table away from her. Liara looked up again, hiding her curiosity behind her glass of water. He poked at his food before shoving a bite into his mouth and chewing. She watched the way his jaw moved under the hair on his face, and she had the sudden notion of feeling his face as he chewed. What would that hair feel like under her fingertips? When he swallowed, the extra protrusion on his neck bobbed. How strange.
"Take a holo, Liara," he said, startling her. "They last longer."
She put down her glass and cocked her head to the side. "A holo?" It was true. Holos were excellent for long-term study. Especially if the subject matter was too busy or too dangerous.
He looked up from his food at her then, a suggestion of annoyance hovered in his green eyes. "You keep staring at me. Take a holo, and then you can stare as long as you want and no one will notice."
Liara thought that was an excellent idea. Her omni-tool allowed for hi-res images. She wondered how many holos he would allow her to take.
Now, how did one ask to feel another's facial hair? Oh, why hadn't she finished that article of human social norms and mores?
"I have rarely had the opportunity for in-depth study of male humans," she told him, excited by the prospect. "Human hair is… interesting."
He blinked at her, surprised. "Sarcasm isn't your strong suit; is it, Dr. T'Soni?"
"Sarcasm?" Oh Goddess. "You were… joking?" Not again.
Liara felt her face flush with embarrassment.
The airlock finished its cycle and hissed open revealing three people. The older man wore robes and leaned on a wooden staff. His dark-skinned face was weathered but his eyes were bright. The other two were younger: a fat man with reddish-brown hair and a willowy woman with mousy brown hair.
George Esposito took off his helmet, revealing his face, the left side drooping from a stroke last year due to complications with his biotic implant. He blinked at them, his heart pounding. The email had said to come, that this was a place of refuge. It was a place to come and be free of the trappings of the Others. George didn't know what to expect when he'd finally said to hell with the bad press, the stares… the whispers.
"Welcome." The older man smiled warmly as he stepped forward, opened his arms and gave George a hug. "I am Father Kyle."
Relief, warm and soothing, calmed George's frayed nerves. Finally.
"You have travelled far," Kyle continued holding George at arm's length, his grip strong and possessive, as the man and the woman with eager smiles helped George with his bags. "Your journey stops here. You are safe here, my child."
It was strange to hear someone call him "child" – he hadn't been a child since before Jump Zero – but he ignored it for now. "No more running," he said, the right side of his face smiling. Saying it made him feel more powerful, more in control of his life than he had ever been. He'd never have to worry about how others felt about his abilities again, wouldn't have to turn on the news to another slanderous report about how biotics weren't human.
Kyle smiled, friendly, inviting. "No more running," he agreed. He stepped away to allow the others their greeting.
"I'm Olive," the woman said. She had a square chin and a wide mouth. George thought she had lovely blue-gray eyes. "This is Thomas." Thomas' bulbous nose dominated his meat features. Kind hazel eyes were hooded by the fat folds above his eyes.
"George," he said, reaching out to shake their hands. "George Es—"
"We don't do last names here," Father Kyle interrupted, a stern expression on his face. George blinked at him, suddenly frightened of the old man in front of him. Frightened he would reject him, turn him away. Kyle's face soon melted back into the warm smile. "There is no need for them."
George nodded. That made sense. He wasn't planning on leaving. It had taken everything to get here.
His wife, Amber, hadn't understood when he'd begun selling off things to pay for their journey to the Hawking Eta cluster.
"H-hawking Eta?" Amber had asked, color draining from her face. "That's… George. That's in the Five Kilo-Parsec Ring. We could die just getting there."
They weren't going to die in transit. He hadn't died. Amber would always be with him. Her family didn't understand. She was always there. Whispering.
Father Kyle, Thomas and Olive led George through the bunker, pointing out the kitchens, the bathrooms, the reading rooms. Each of the other biotics they encountered gave George welcoming hugs and greetings. By the time Kyle led George to his room, there were tears in George's brown eyes. Why hadn't he come before? Why hadn't Amber let him come before?
Olive stepped forward after Kyle and Thomas left. She reached up and wiped his face. "You took a risk coming here," she told him, "but Father speaks true. We are safe here." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Come sit with me at evening prayer."
Later that evening, after the prayer and family meal, two soldiers from the Alliance came. Olive was leading him to the reading room where she said she'd read him passages from Father Kyle's manifesto. George didn't know what to make of the soldiers. They were an odd pair: a tall, muscular man with curly black hair and pale gold skin and a small woman with spiked platinum hair. When the man said that the Alliance wanted to help Father Kyle, Olive pulled George away from the 'negotiators.'
"They want to take Father Kyle away from us," she hissed, her blue-gray eyes wide with fear. "We need Father. He takes care of us. The Alliance hates us. They refuse to help us, but Father loves us."
George blinked. "But I just got here," he whispered. He didn't want to go back. If they took Father Kyle away, they'd force all the biotics to go back or worse. He had nothing left in Citadel Space. Only Amber and her whispering.
"I will keep my people safe," Father Kyle declared after a moment of listening to the soldiers. He nodded to another man. George remembered his name was Edgar. Olive had told George not to anger Edgar, he followed Father everywhere. The big brutish man didn't hesitate to do whatever Kyle wanted of him. George gasped when Edgar crushed the man with a biotic maneuver George hadn't seen since Jump Zero. Bones crunched, blood spurted, ceramic shattered within the confines of the dark energy as Edgar compressed the field. The soldier hadn't stood a chance against the L2. The corpse looked like it had been stuffed into a compactor.
"Marquéz!" the remaining soldier screamed as two other biotics restrained her. "Oh, God, no!" She gaped at Father Kyle in disbelief before staring at the mangled body of her compatriot. "Andy."
George felt sick, bile rising in his throat. Had the soldier even been armed? The green and black armor, now covered in blood and meat and folded in on itself, hadn't looked like the standard issue from a garrison.
"You fucking murderer! Damn it, Major, we came in peace! In peace!"
"The Butcher of Torfan knows no peace," Father Kyle spat at her. He looked at Edgar. "There might be others on their way. The Butcher had a full team of N Commandos. Take her to the interrogation room. Do whatever is necessary to get her to talk."
"How did you keep us 'safe?'" the soldier demanded when they tried to take her away. "Huh? How did you? What did you do for us, you bastard?" Another biotic grabbed her as she struggled. "We were your team! Your team! We trusted you! We cleaned up your bullshit after you shot Bouchard! Then you flipped the fuck out on Torfan! Where's your conspiracy now? Huh, Major!"
It took four people to drag her from the room. Her accusations echoed against the walls. Father Kyle was silent, listening, then shook his head. He turned and raised his arms, the sleeves of his robes unfolding like wings.
"This is what I'm protecting you from, my children," he told those who had gathered. "The Alliance would take me away from you."
George swallowed and looked at Olive who was shaking her head in contempt.
"This is why we had to come here. To get away from raving lunatics like that," she said, a thin vein of hysteria in her voice. "Father Kyle would never abandon us. Father loves us."
The others echoed her, bobbing their heads.
"Father loves us."
Gaegogi - means dog meat in Korean (apologies if I've misspelled it).
Note for Alpha Cucumber: Thanks! Means a lot! (FF dot net wouldn't let me respond to your review.)