"Shepard, wait…please, stop!"
Del's arm was caught in a shimmering loop of biotics a breath before Liara finally caught up, replacing the rope of dark energy with her own hand. Shepard tried half-heartedly to tug away, but the effort was lackluster and Liara easily retained her hold, turning the human woman to face her and gently cupping her cheek.
"Do not do that," the asari said, her voice low and urgent. "Do not take what that woman said to heart."
"Don't take it to heart?" Del asked, her brows a tense knot as she lifted her hand, displaying her wrist. "This? This is what I'm not supposed to take to heart? This thing that got inside Osco and turned her into a puppet? That got into Ruth? I can already look forward to suffering and probably dying of cancer in just a few years thanks to that eezo radiation, now I have to worry about losing my damn mind too?"
"Merah," Liara lifted her hands, cupping Del's cheeks. Her sky blue eyes were intent. "We must concentrate on facts, not fears. There is a single Pio associated with that implant, and it is dormant. It is frightened and alone and realizes that you are not a brasa. Those within Osco were more numerous, moved faster- probably too fast to realize that they were not working within a proper host or platform-"
"You're banking an awful lot on speculation, Liara. You only know Pio was frightened and went dormant because it told you. If it's sentient enough to have feelings and concerns, then it is sentient enough to lie."
"And sentient enough to be felt during a Joining," Liara said gently. "There was no sense of Pio's mind when we were together, indicating it is in fact dormant. There was real fear and concern when it spoke to us. Ruth said that Gellian was having nightmares, losing her mind as those within her infiltrated her brain- have you been having nightmares? Hallucinations or mental disquietude of any kind?"
"N-no, not really since Phederaal-"
"And that was before you even set foot on that black ship and got that implant," Liara said. "Listen to me, Merah. With Pio asleep and confined to that single implant there is a high chance that a skilled microsurgeon can remove it. The moment we have the opportunity to do so we will. Helen can perform hourly scans on you if she must, insure that the implant isn't activating or infiltrating your systems. I will not allow what happened to Osco to happen to you."
Del's lower lip trembled a moment before she stilled it, looking downward briefly. "Ruth lied when she said that I knew about the superweapon. I didn't. I swear I didn't know. The information that Pio put into my head has no reference to it whatsoever."
"I know," Liara said. "I trust you, Merah. I know that if you had the slightest inkling about that weapon you would have told us. I do not think she consciously lied, she probably merely assumes the same is happening to you as is happening to her. She does not know that your implant contains only a single Pio, and that without its compatriots it may not have access to the same information that was imparted to her."
She searched Del's face a moment, before she spoke again, softly. "I know you are frightened, Merah. I am as well. But we shall get through this. You are not alone. I am here with you, always…and we shall figure this out, make it right. I swear it to you."
Shepard nodded, then stepped forward and hugged the asari tightly, clinging to her a long moment. Liara held her back just as tightly, her fingers tangling briefly in Shepard's dark hair.
It was true. Liara was very frightened. Not just about the implant or the devastation that would occur should Osco get those Antennae activated, or push the button on that superweapon. She was frightened about the cancer that Shepard would inevitably develop. She was frightened that, even if Del were perfectly healthy and hale the rest of her life, someday far too soon, Liara would lose her. She was frightened that she would not be who Del needed. She was frightened that either of them may fall in this fight.
However, Liara had spent a great deal of her life controlling her fears and doubts, turning that energy into a determination to overcome. She did so now, almost physically balling up her emotions, squeezing them tight, and funneling them into focus.
Releasing her tight hold on the doctor, she gently kissed her forehead, and then nodded. "Come. The turians will forward Ruth's locations and instructions regarding the superweapon on to the Council, along with my recommendations. For now, we must concentrate on the rakir and getting Sihra's people to a safe balance before we head to Permiatic. The Prilekk should at least have a game plan laid out by now. Let us go and see how we can help."
The observation post on the smaller of the Nakiran moons was a bustle of mad activity when the Aswa arrived. Even so, they saw very little of it, ushered quickly from the ship and into a conference room, where they were met by a Dr. Antolia, an older turian woman who seemed on the verge of tears the moment she saw the Prilekk. Even so, she was every inch the professional as she greeted them.
"We cannot take them by surprise," she said, as an assistant set a few cases on the table. "Normally, when a species is given first contact we have months, if not years, to plan. It's never happened this quickly before. Still, we don't normally have a member of the species to advise and assist, especially not one of such high standing. That will be a huge help."
"Do we allow Sihra to go in alone?" Del asked.
"Not alone, but she has to inform the Ubuut and any other relevant figures of our existence before we can appear. Remember, to them we are the aliens…and the usual rakir reaction to anything new and potentially hostile is confrontation. They have survived as they have because they very much live by the axiom 'hit first, ask questions later'. Normally, our first contact teams go in disguised, even if we have had radio communications with the new species, just to soften the blow before our true nature is revealed."
"Is that what we are going to do here? Go in disguised?" Liara asked.
"Yes, but it is far more complicated than that-"
Sihra snorted. "You can hide yourselves however you want, a rakir is never fooled. You all stink of strangeness."
Antolia nodded. "Yes, precisely. Their sense of smell is so acute that even with the most sophisticated holographic generation altering our appearances, they will know in a millisecond we are not rakir."
"How do we get around that?"
"Biotics," Antolia said. "Rakir are a species that can wield biotics. They call it the 'silver fire'. It is rare among their number…perhaps one in a thousand individuals. However, most who possess the ability are unaware of it, don't develop it. It takes practice and work. As a result, there are only a few hundred active and practiced biotics on the planet- and they are all Stunted monks."
"Explains how they have the time and devotion needed to develop the control of dark energy," Liara said. "How does this help us?"
"The static energy of biotics interferes with a rakir's sense of smell. So long as the asari in our number use a very low level of biotics and encase each disguised member of our team in a very thin barrier, the energy should disrupt any olfactory recognition that we are not rakir. They will smell only the static of the dark energy…like ozone after a lightning strike."
"The monks who use the silver fire are viewed with reverent suspicion," Sihra said. "So long as they think you are these monks, they will leave you alone."
"Being 'Stunted' also has its advantages, as it is considered cowardice to harm or fight a Stunted. They view it the same as they would fighting a child- a sign of weakness and dishonor. In these disguises we will be safe enough."
"How many are to go down?" Shepard asked.
"You and Captain T'Soni, I believe, will want to join us," Antolia said.
"Yes. Miranda Lawson would also like to accompany us, as well as my two Spectre trainees. They have become good friends with the Prilekk and want to see this through."
"My own team will consist of ten on the ground, including myself," she replied with a nod. "There will be air support but they will not appear or land until we are successful…or we need to beat a hasty retreat."
"So fifteen. Will this be enough?" Liara asked.
"Yes. We do not want to come off as a threat, but neither do we want to appear weak. A larger group would imply both- that we seek to overwhelm them with sheer numbers, or that we are too afraid and threatened by them to come in a smaller force."
She looked intent as she leaned on the table. "Make no mistake. There is a very real element of danger here, even with the Prilekk. The rakir are never to be taken lightly, and can be unpredictable. If it were up to me, we'd be doing this contact in a year, after far more extensive planning, not now…but circumstances as they are we have no choice. We will be armed but we will not use those arms unless our lives are in direct and immediate danger. If given the chance, we run, we don't fight."
She straightened and looked at Sihra. "Prilekk, we will be following your lead. We will remain disguised until you instruct differently. These are your people, and you know the Ubuut better than any. You are in charge of this mission."
Sihra nodded. "It shall not just be us. When we arrive, I will send for my loyals. They will follow my lead as well."
Antolia smiled somewhat wistfully. "I will get to stand in the same room with the One Hundred," she said. "And the great Ubuut. I never dreamed I would have this chance. It is an incredible honor, Prilekk."
"I just hope it works. This is the last chance my people have to survive the Affliction. I will make them see that, if I have to bash every goddamn one of their skulls in to prove it."
"Let us hope it does not come to that," Liara said.
"Indeed," Antolia said, then pulled one of the boxes to the fore and started opening it. "I have translation devices for everyone, so that you can understand what is being said and- if you must speak- they will hear you in Rakhiri. Try not to speak at all if you can avoid it. I also have monk robes and holographic disguise generators. These are very rare and very restricted- this is one of the only Council sanctioned uses of them. Fortunately, we have just enough for our purposes. Though you will appear to be rakir, you will still feel like yourselves, so try not to let anyone touch you, and avoid touching anyone else if you can. Now. We have an hour until we head down to the city. Let's get these dispersed among the ground team and get dressed."
Nikodivekk was the largest city on Nakira, considered a marvel among its people. It was a marvel, on many levels, considering not only the level of construction technology available to them, but the fact that only a few short centuries before, they were warring and nomadic tribes. The level of societal cooperation needed to construct a permanent city- let alone one like this- was fairly new in the evolution of the rakir, and was mostly thanks to the current Ubuut.
Though a ruthless war leader on par with Alexander the Great and Aswa V'Dess, the Ubuut was almost single-handedly responsible for bringing his people together under the flag of a single nation and not a million small tribes. Though he did so by blood and claw and victory, his vision of a unified empire was just about the only reason the rakir had not already died off. It may not have been his intentions, but the Ubuut had bought his people at least a few more decades of time before the Affliction would have rendered them extinct…just long enough, if this first contact was successful. Even if they were unable to cure the Affliction, there were ways to allow a population of only females and infertile males to breed. Every rakir for the rest of time may need to be conceived in a lab, but the species would endure.
Shepard was doing her best not to gape around her as she followed along with the others. They had landed well outside the city, where their shuttles would not be seen- and that meant a great deal of walking before they were at their destination. Sihra set a smart pace, and more often than not they had to trot to keep up.
At first the heavy robes were a godsend- it was evening when they arrived, and they were in this region's cold season. As they went, however, and warmed from exertion, the robes became uncomfortable and hot. The strange, faint tingle from the biotics encasing her only added to the itch.
Once they entered the city, her discomfort was all but instantly forgotten as she tried not to stare. It became harder as more and more rakir appeared around them.
She had never seen any rakir other than Sihra before, and wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Were they a species like the salarian, where most had a very uniform look and only subtle differences in coloring or height distinguished individuals- or were they more like humans, with a wide variety of appearances and races within the species as a whole?
The truth seemed to be somewhere in between. As the first strangers appeared in the street and started to cluster, she found she could tell individuals apart, though there did not seem to be the same wide diversity as humans possessed.
Females and Stunted were obvious, though at first she thought there were just a large number of children in the crowd. Realizing most had to be Stunted, she found she could literally not tell them apart from the children, provided the child was not very young. They seemed stuck at the age just before awkward adolescence. Occasionally there was something about the eyes that told her of longer years, more maturity, but physically there seemed nothing to set them apart.
They were the most numerous and also the most reserved, watching silently from windows and doors or clustered in groups, but silent and solemn all the same.
Then there were the females. They stood out simply by their size and demeanor, more vocal and demonstrative than the Stunted. They shouted and waved toward Sihra, calling both praises and curses at the Prilekk. As the Stunted, they came in a wide variety of colors and patterns (Del saw stripes, and spots, and more than once she was convinced one may have marbling) but their physical features beyond color or hair length seemed only to have the most subtle of variations. A few wore jewelry (nose rings and hoops in the ears seemed very popular) or more elaborate costumes, but most were in simple leather skirts and trousers, only bearing an occasional drape over the torso or chest. A few of the ones that were darker in color had intricate scripts or scenes 'painted' in something that had to be akin to bleach on their body fur, making pale and incredibly beautiful or threatening designs.
Their idea of tattoos? she thought.
They had come nearly a mile through the winding street before Del saw her first fertile male- something that only highlighted the true desperation of their situation.
The male came out from around a corner, striding right up to Sihra. She seemed to know him, for she paused briefly to address him. While he seemed agitated, Sihra seemed no more than mildly irritated. Del, standing where she was near Liara, could not hear the exchange though she could make out their voices.
"Well, he is a big one, isn't he?" she whispered as softly as possible to the asari at her shoulder.
The fertile male stood at least a foot taller than Sihra's already impressive six feet and change. A pair of huge and curling horns, reminiscent of ram's horns on mountain goats, sprouted just above his eyes and ended with their points forward. His head seemed slightly thicker and flatter than Sihra's, his jaw heavier, his neck much wider. Though Sihra had a faint beard, his was pronounced and long, braided in several spots. Del was put in mind of the minotaur of Greek legend, even if the rakir were more ovine and less bovine. The thick twisted knot of metal through his nostrils did nothing to dispel the image.
For a moment, he looked over the gathered group of 'Stunted monks' with what seemed puzzlement, before he nodded to Sihra and turned, heading away along a different path. The Prilekk resumed her course, and only a few minutes later, their strange group was entering an enormous structure- the Ubuut's palace.
They were there, at last. Now, the hard part could begin.
Utchibahna Sokka could hear the rumble of the Kodra and smell the anticipation, the aggression, and the frustration though two halls and three thick doors that still separated her from them. She strode without pause, wry amusement tightening the corner of her mouth.
Shoot your claws in vain, idiots. Your window has closed.
Behind her, thirty of the One Hundred kept pace, Juffbak Hotes a looming shadow at her side.
"You counted them?" she asked.
"Yes. Just over three claws of them."
"You are sure they were monks?"
"I could smell the silver fire," he said with an irritated wrinkle to his snout. "Like poisoned water."
"Why would my aunt go on a hunt and come back with three claws of Stunted monks?" she asked. He snorted derisively.
"You are welcome to ask her yourself. I am just glad she is back. More than one House in the Kodra has been imagining themselves supreme."
"You could have put yourself as the Ubuut's new Champion, if you were so concerned for his safety," she said derisively.
"Pah. And have Sihra's claws at my throat instead? No thank you."
"You fear my aunt? A female half your size?" Sokka needled.
"I have seen your aunt fight, Sokka. You are one of the One Hundred, you have seen it too. There is a reason most of the Houses believe she is catika. They think the Ubuut keeps her around just for that- his own mad pet who feels no pain or fear."
"She is not catika," Sokka said with a snarl.
"Yet she goes on a hunt, and comes back with monks instead of prey-"
She whipped around and slashed her claws over his face, striking so fast that the huge male didn't get his hand up in time to block it. Shaking his head, disregarding the thin stream of blood from a gash on his nose, he snarled and glared at her.
Instantly his snarl was met by an echo- not just from Sokka, but from the thirty following her. Hotes was no small contender but he was also no fool, and he had no desire to go claw to claw with thirty-one trained females, especially not those of the One Hundred.
"Even hint that my aunt may be catika again and I will lay your skin on my floor as a rug," Sokka said with a promising growl.
He huffed, then smirked. "It would be far more entertaining to just lay me on your floor, with my skin intact. I'd make it more than worth your while."
"I thought you preferred the Stunted," she said. "You've produced more than your fair share of them, after all. How many sons do you have now, Hotes? Twenty? All Afflicted?"
Now his snarl was furious as he glared at her, but she had turned away, continuing on her path. His anger only rose higher- to be disregarded and ignored like that was to reduce him to a non-threat, a severe insult. Still, he could do nothing about it now, and he only followed, seething.
As they neared the Hall, they could almost feel the rumble of the Kodra as well as hear them. Gesturing toward the thirty, she directed them to join their sisters at different vantages around the Hall before she entered herself by the Ubuut's own doors, four still flanking her, as well as Hotes.
The full Kodra seemed to be there, the heads of every House in the city present, along with their seconds, their Champions where appropriate, and their attendants. The air was thick with the stink of a thousand bodies, a thousand emotions. It swept over her like a curtain, rousing her primal instincts and making the fur on her shoulders lift and tingle in the wake of it.
Almost as if by design, the moment Sokka and her small group entered from the Ubuut's door, Sihra and the monks entered by the main door. The rumbles and growls grew in pitch as the Prilekk strode to the center of the room, the monks hanging back slightly at her gesture. Sokka didn't miss the way some of the Kodra edged back from the robed Stunted, noses wrinkling. She noted who they were, marking their weakness of fear.
Though Sihra was her aunt, they had only a passing resemblance. Sokka's red-gold coloring looked almost on fire as it reflected the torchlight from the polished braziers around the room. Her yellow eyes were steady as she met the gaze of the older female, letting her speak first out of deference and respect.
"Sokka, I must address the Ubuut."
"You have been gone a long time, Prilekk," Sokka replied. "And you bring strange company."
"Sokka, now. I must speak with him."
"That is not possible."
"Why?"
Sokka's eyes sparkled just the smallest bit, seeming to light with fire just like the torches around her.
"Because, Prilekk. The Ubuut is dead."
