There was a rippled wave of guttural sounds around the room- sounds it took several of the 'monks' a few moments to realize were actually laughter. Sihra herself seemed less amused, striding forward a few paces and bearing her teeth.
"I have no time for your games, Sokka. I will see him now. It is your choice if I bloody your teeth on my way past you or not."
The younger rakir chuckled herself, then shook her head. "I see you still have no sense of humor, my aunt. He is already on his way, or did you think that I would have the Kodra notified and not the great Ubuut?"
"Your sense of humor is still ill-timed and frivolous," Sihra replied, though she could not help a glimmer of affection. Despite her frivolity and odd sense of what was and was not funny, Sokka was a formidable warrior and had earned her place as one of the top ranking members of the One Hundred. Though they often seemed to be at odds, Sihra knew the ferocity and depth of Sokka's loyalty to her, and at times wondered if it did not even rival her loyalty to the Ubuut himself. Had the Ubuut truly died in Sihra's absence, Sokka would not only have employed the One Hundred to stop any head of a rival House from gaining the position, she would likely have done it to make sure that it was Sihra who became Ubuuta over the rest.
"I am just glad to see you returned, Prilekk. Though you bring odd prey back with you."
"Odd prey indeed," A deep, rasping voice filled the room, hushing the voices of the Kodra and reducing the Hall to almost perfect silence. Sokka stepped aside as a bent but looming figure stepped through the still open door behind her.
Not a single off-worlder there could doubt who this was that stepped within, though those outside of the research staff had never seen even pictures of him. The Ubuut was clearly a fertile male of great age. Though there were still hints of dark coloration on his body fur, most of it and the hair on his head and chin had gone to pale gray, silver, and white. One eye was also white, blooming with cataracts, the other having a milky blue coloration of less severe cataracts- he would be nearly completely blind.
His motions were stiff and short, the gnarls of his hands and twists of his limbs suggesting some advanced inflammatory disease- arthritis, or a close equivalent. His head was low, bent in front of heavily rounded shoulders, drawn down by not only the weight of his horns themselves, but the sheer amount of copper and brass adorning them. Two heavy brass points fused to the thick horn, replacing the natural points that had likely broken in battle years before. Cracks from age or from that same battle damage had been filled with molten metal until they looked like copper veins spreading across them.
Scars, some quite horrific, mapped almost every inch of his body, and one of his ears was little more than a ragged stump.
It was clear at first glance why he needed a Champion to fight his battles for him, but looking at the monster- elderly and knotted with pain as he was- it was hard not to be intimidated. Had Sihra not returned, sheer numbers of rivals might have led to his death, but there was no doubt he would have taken some along with him.
His nostrils flared, his sense of smell still clearly quite keen, and he grimaced, displaying yellowed tusks. "Why do you bring these monks, Sihra? They stink of the silver fire. They belong in the mountains, far away from here."
"I have a long tale for you, my Ubuut," Sihra said, the reverence in her voice plain to be heard, thickly entwined with what could only be genuine love.
Sihra's not just loyal to her leader, she truly does love him, Del thought. Not romantically I don't think, but definitely as a hero, a mentor, and a father-figure.
"A long tale…of course you do," he said with a weary grunt. "I'd rather hear it nearer my fire if you don't mind, preferably with some greasy meat to chew along with it. Have you eaten yet?"
"I have not, Ubuut, but this tale must be heard by the Kodra as well as by you. It affects every rakir in the Ubuutis that draws breath."
A rumble of murmurs, and the Ubuut paused, already in motion to turn around and go back out of the Hall. He fixed her with a look, though he likely could see nothing of her but a faint and foggy shape. He could tell she was serious by scent alone. After his pause, he only grunted, the sound a clear indication to speak.
Sihra began to talk, telling of her hunt and her discovery of the strange ship by the lake. At first, the gathered rakir listened fairly quietly, but as she went on, grumbles and snorts and then full on growls of derision began to ripple through the room. The moment she spoke of seeing the shuttle fly, and of looking out at the night sky from the Aswa's view ports, those rumbles became full on roars and shouts. She broke off, growling low as one older fertile male suddenly pushed out of the crowd and strode toward her, a younger male and a rather wild looking female on his heels.
"I will not listen to these wild ravings!" the older male bellowed, getting right into Sihra's face, almost snout to snout. She did not retreat, baring her teeth in response to his and bracing her body to hold her ground. "You are catika, finally completely lost in your madness!"
There were answering shouts from the others, most calling for blood. The One Hundred, both near the Ubuut and positioned around the room, began to move forward menacingly. Sokka herself strode over, looking furious, but as she neared, the wild-haired female whirled and hissed at her.
"She is catika, you know the law!"
"If your broad tongue wags that word again, Vilek Kivita, I will tear it out by its root, and your second tongue as well for sport!"
"Take your face from mine, Dusodo," Sihra said in a low, threatening tone to the older male. "This is the only moment you have to do so."
"I will not-" He began, only to bellow in pain as she suddenly launched a clawed foot into his gut. In a heartbeat it was an all-out brawl between the older male and Sihra, the pair locked tooth and claw. The younger male that had followed him stepped back, merely watching, but the wild-haired female turned away from Sokka, clearly intending to leap into the fray. Sokka had no intention of allowing that, springing on the other woman's unguarded back, driving her down to the ground with her body weight. Kivita thrashed once in an attempt to throw her off, but it was the only motion she was able to make, as Sokka's claws laid her throat wide. A thick tide of blood rushed out onto the hard-packed floor.
Sihra's victory followed only seconds after. Despite the fertile male's superior size and weight, she quickly managed to dig the talons on her feet into the backs of his legs, severing or at least severely mangling his tendons. He fell to his knees as his legs gave way, then lunged at her again, his own claws tearing over her upper arm. She ignored the pain as if he had done nothing, winding her arm around his head and grabbing him by the base of one of the horns, wrenching his skull to the side and jamming her fingers up under the side of his throat. Blood sprayed out as she severed an artery, and she shoved his heavy body away from her with almost a thrust of disgust.
He made one more weak lunge in her direction, a lunge she only had to step backward a pace to avoid. He collapsed, moving weakly for a long moment as his lifeblood continued to spray, before he fell still.
Chants and roars were filling the air from the sidelines, shouted demands bellowed toward the Ubuut. Several others looked like they meant to surge in to the attack as well, but they were greeted with the bristling, angry One Hundred, forcing them back and spitting threats.
The younger rakir male, far closer to his prime, watched all of this without interfering, eyeing the pair of corpses on the ground with an odd expression. When Sihra glared toward him he met her gaze sternly, but did not move to attack or challenge her.
"Sihra."
The Ubuut's voice was loud and firm, cutting through the threats and challenges threatening to turn the Kodra into a bloodbath. As he stepped forward, the noise did not die down to his liking, and with a roar that seemed to shake the entire building, he bristled.
"ENOUGH! Hold your tongues before I allow the One Hundred to open throats, or I open them myself!"
As the din died down some, he turned back to his Prilekk. "Sihra, Vilek Dusodo brought up a valid point. I have never had reason to doubt you, but your tale…you are not lying, yet these things cannot possibly be. You know the laws as I do."
"I do, Ubuut," she replied. "I speak the truth. I am not mad, though if I were to hear this tale from anyone else I could not say I would not react as Dusodo and his daughter. Fortunately, Vilek Duenoro has more sense."
She glared here again at the younger male, who simply regarded her thoughtfully.
"We must have proof, Sihra," the Ubuut continued, moving closer. He stopped only a foot or so away from her, squinting his mostly blind eyes in concern.
"My word is not proof enough?" she asked.
"For me? Always," he told her. "But I am the Ubuut, and I must stand for all the rakir, and for them…no. Your words are not enough. If you have no proof we must assume you are catika, and you cannot be spared their fate, Prilekk or not. You know this. You would not have come before me with this story if you did not have that proof, not unless you were a fool."
"Sihra is no fool," Sokka said at his flank, and he grunted.
"I know. So where is your proof, Sihra?" He looked past her and eyed the gathered monks knowingly. "You leave on a hunt and come back with a strange story…but that is not the only thing you come back with. The monks who have the silver fire never leave their mountains…yet here are three claws of them. I wonder why."
Sihra smiled slightly, then turned her head. "Captain."
Liara started forward, Del instantly falling in at her side as she walked to the head of the group, pausing to stand near Antolia. She nodded toward Sihra, who straightened and looked around at the Kodra.
"This is the captain that I fought with, the one who showed me the truth of our world and millions like it. We have shed blood together, I and her crew. They stood with me and fought to allow me to come home, to help you…help all of the rakir."
"Help us how?" The Ubuut asked. Sokka moved closer to where Liara, Antolia, and Del now stood, squinting at them warily. Del found it hard not to be intimidated by her, especially when the still warm and bloody evidence of her battle prowess lay not twenty feet behind her.
"They want to uplift our people," Sihra told him. "They have been watching us. They know of the Affliction…and they can cure it."
Instantly the noise in the room grew again, the Kodra exclaiming in surprise and varying shades of disbelief.
"Cure the Affliction?" The Ubuut himself blinked. Sihra looked around at the three and nodded. Antolia straightened and spoke for the first time.
"Yes, great Ubuut. We have it in our power to find the cause of your Affliction and cure it. We need your cooperation to do so, but we are confident that we can."
He heard her in Rakhiri, of course, just as his words were being translated into galactic in their ears. The odd overlap of voices made him grimace again in confusion, but the Ubuut had not gotten to his position by being stupid or a fool. A cunning mind, as well as brute strength, had earned him his place.
"Stand before me honestly," he said. "You use some kind of magic charm to hide yourself. Show me your true face."
Antolia weighed the command only a moment, before she looked at Liara and nodded. Reaching up, the pair lowered their hoods, the other 'monks' quickly following their example. Then, they reached into their pockets and turned off their holographic disguise generators.
Sokka did not step backward, much to her credit, but her body did lean back, her nostrils flaring in surprise. The Ubuut's reaction was far more masked, only the slightest narrowing of his foggy eyes to mark any notice. Several of the Kodra did step back, more than one baring its teeth.
"They look like…detrak," Sokka said with a wrinkle to her snout.
"This is your proof, Ubuut," Sihra told him. "Our world is not what we think it is. There are worlds beyond counting out there, as many as the stars in the sky. They are the stars in the sky. They want us to join them. They want to help us to survive."
"Why?" He growled.
"Great Ubuut, I am Captain Liara T'Soni," she said, spreading her hands. "We value your lives, your culture. You are a unique and courageous species, and we have no desire for you to die. Sihra was strange to us when we found her, but she has proven herself not only a capable warrior, but a friend. We admire her strength and her conviction, her passion for her people and for her rakir heritage. To let such a fire die out of this universe would be the gravest injustice."
"Would it?" he asked. "And what do you gain? Hmm? Something is always gained."
"These detrak are weak and small," another of the Kodra said, moving to the front. "A Stunted could slice them open with ease! We do not need their help. We will find their lands and take them for the rakir!"
"You are not listening," Sihra replied. "How would you reach the stars in the sky, idiot? You cannot sail there, you cannot walk there, and however much hot air you want to bellow, you will not be able to float there upon it!"
He glared. "You are catika and a traitor, Utchibahna Sihra. You bring these detrak into our lands, into the Ubuut's own Hall! You whine and pule and say that we must rely on their help. We have no need of their help!"
Sihra began to speak, her body tensing again, but the Ubuut held out his hand, addressing the other male himself. "And how many sons do you have, Garoll Snirka?"
"That is-"
"HOW MANY SONS?"
"I have ten claws of sons," he replied.
"Ten claws of sons," the Ubuut said. "And you, Vorot Tilv. How many claws of sons do you have?"
A male nearly as old as the Ubuut stiffened. "Sixteen," he said.
"Sixteen claws of sons. I myself have twenty claws of sons, and nine claws of daughters." the Ubuut said. "Shall we meet them? Shall we meet my strong and capable heirs? Step forward, children of the Ubuut!"
Several of the One Hundred stepped forward from the crowd, including two that had remained with Sokka. All were female. He regarded them, then lifted his voice again. "Do not be shy, my sons! Great sons of the Ubuut, step forward! Show your strength!"
No one moved. He cocked his head, as if listening, then asked, "But where could they be? Where are the strong sons of the Ubuut, if not in the Kodra? Oh, yes. My old brain remembers now." He snorted. "They are in the libraries, and the monasteries. They are in the healing houses, and the houses of learning. Why?"
Even his foggy, cold eyes seemed to light with fire as he roared. "BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL STUNTED! As are your sons, Tilv…and yours Snirka! As are nearly all the sons of all the males in this Kodra! Our daughters are grand and powerful and beautiful and bring us much honor. They are capable of much greatness, but even they cannot make children without the help of a fertile male!"
"We are strong-" Snirka tried to say.
"Strength does not make babies! We shall all be honorable and strong in our graves, and our daughters will be honorable and strong when we've gone, but when they have gone there shall be no more rakir!"
"I would rather die than take help from weak detrak!"
"That can be arranged," Sihra said menacingly, then looked around as Liara spoke.
"You think us weak…Snirka, was it? Come then. Fight me, and we shall see who is weak."
"Liara," Del whispered under her breath, alarmed, before Antolia caught her hand.
"No, let her," she whispered back. "The only way to earn their respect is to beat it into them. They have to respect us as equals, and to them, that means strength, power, and dominance."
Snirka grimaced derisively. "I have honor, detrak. I do not fight weak and tiny children."
Liara stepped past Sihra, who made no motion to stop her. Shrugging the heavy robe off her shoulders, she dropped it on the floor and did not pause in her stride until she was toe to toe with looming Snirka. Though Snirka seemed to be in middle or upper-middle age- his dark brown hair and fur streaking with white and gray- he was more than healthy and hale. Scars made a ragged map of his face, marking him a veteran of many fights. Unlike the Ubuut, however, his horns were not chipped and broken, nor were they adorned with metal. Instead, a thousand infinitesimal swirls and lines had been carved into them. Del could not make them out clearly from where she stood, but thought they might actually be scenes of fighting rakir- no doubt some memorial or trophy from some epic victory of his.
Though he was not as large as Hotes or Deunoro, Snirka still stood at least two feet taller than the slim asari captain, and he met her expression of determination with one of pitying amusement.
"I am neither weak nor a child," Liara told him. "Fight me, or you are a mewling coward, neither worthy to stand in this Kodra nor call yourself rakir."
The amusement disappeared from his face, replaced with furious anger. He looked past her at Sihra. "I will not be goaded into dishonor by your detrak, Prilekk. I will not fight a weakling-"
A rope of dark energy flared bright, coiling around the rakir male as quickly as a whip lashing into place. Liara heaved and turned, sending him sailing into the middle of the hall and tumbling end over end. Sounds of shock echoed around the hall, and several other rakir from all sides started forward. The instant they moved, Antolia barked an order.
Every biotic in the place lit up with dark energy in clear warning.
Sliding over the hardpack, Snirka dug in his claws to halt his motion, bristling. His eyes fixed Liara, teeth skinned to the gums.
She looked right back, her eyes cold ice, her entire body rippling with blue light. Ropes of saliva flashed off his jaws as he leapt at her, intent to kill. Instead, he met a slam. The saliva was joined with a flash of blood as he reeled back, tumbling to the ground again.
This time, Liara didn't wait for him to recover, striding forward. As he lifted his head she struck him across the jaw with the back of her fist, swinging hard enough that he turned his head. The reply blow knocked her off her feet and it was her turn to tumble over the ground. Del reflexively started forward and Antolia grabbed her arm again, halting her.
Liara pushed herself up just as the rakir charged again, crossing almost the entirety of the Hall in a single leap, claws out and ready to shred. Instead, he was caught in a web of dark energy, lifted high into the air. His legs were pulled down, his arms out, until he was stretched out painfully, hovering in a biotic bubble.
"That is enough of that," Liara said. "Or do I need to yank your arms and legs from their sockets, coward?"
"I am not a coward!"
"No, but you are an idiot!" Sihra said. "Ubuut, these people are strong. They are warriors. Even those of their kind that do not have the silver fire are able to deal destruction the likes of which you cannot imagine. If they so desired, they could come and wipe us off of the face of Nakira. They have tools and weapons that could reduce this entire Hall to less than ash! I have fought with them. I know how they appear, but those appearances are deceptive-"
"Yet she holds him in the silver fire," Deunoro said, pointing at the hovering Snirka. "There is no bravery or honor in this, he is incapable of defending himself!"
Liara nodded, then let the biotics go. Snirka fell to the ground, then pushed himself up, grumbling. Liara inclined her head toward him slightly. "He is right," she said. "I do not fight helpless enemies."
That he had been rendered helpless at all clearly grated on the old male. She could see it in his eyes. Straightening to his full height, he stalked forward. As before, Liara held her ground and did not flinch, even when his teeth ducked close to her face, hot breath washing over her skin.
"No," he said after a moment. "The silver fire is a gift of skill. There is no dishonor in disabling your enemy with skill."
"No rakir can fight against the fire," Deunoro pointed out.
"Then the failing is ours!" Snirka said, sneering at him. "I have seen men your age step back rather than hold their ground and fight. You can smell it as can I- there is no weakness in this one. She is a worthy enemy."
"Your people are capable of wielding the silver fire," Antolia said. "It is not just the monks who can- many of you have the potential, you simply haven't been shown how. We can teach you this as well."
"We either accept their offer, learn from them…or we die," Sihra said. "They will leave us here alone to let the Affliction take its course. No more fertile males will be born. No more rakir children at all after that. Soon, nothing will be left but ashes and bones. Ubuut…it has been your dream for our people to see us across all lands, to rule Nakira and expand the Ubuutis from ocean to ocean. I tell you that there is so much more out there…lands beyond counting, whole worlds that could be ours, as well as Nakira."
"You suggest conquering these detrak?" Sokka asked, eyeing Liara. The asari looked at her calmly.
"There are worlds enough to go around," she said. "There is no shame in having strong friends, so long as you remember they also make strong enemies."
"Sihra, I have much to think on," The Ubuut said. "This Kodra is dismissed."
As he turned to head for the door, Sihra stepped toward him. "Ubuut-"
"Do not worry," he said with affectionate and wry exasperation. "I am old, and would like to father a strong son sometime before I die. I will not take too long."
As he stepped over the body of the man that Sihra had killed, he gave it a derisive kick. "And clean up this kofrek, it is beginning to stink."
