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3-24-2184
[ GEMINI SIGMA | PODA-D7-77 SYSTEM | PLANETARY BODY: PODA - S2 ]
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The sun waned on the horizon. On that cliff's swollen rock and ragged edge, she stood, carving for herself a haloed silhouette, a tunnel of shadow trailing behind her. She watched that dying sun, gaze devoid of life, a stare as barren as the nothingness between stars. Empty. Desolate. And cold.
"Tali." Came John's voice, his note a sigh in the quiet wind, "You're beautiful, you know that?"
She afforded him only a fleeting glance. Upon that gentle face of his was a ghost of a smile that had once been the axis of her world. Her silence was a chasm. It stretched, thick and black.
Agony befell him. "Tali. Please."
The day continued to die. She stared on where the sun bled out its final light to the earth below, shadows drawn out to blanket the lands in darkness. He reached out to touch her, but his fingers crumbled to ash and scattered to the winds.
He fell to a knee, limb a charred glow. "Don't let me leave without a goodbye."
She remained as silent as the stars that made the sky.
"𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑦𝑒," He echoed with a sand filled gasp, "𝙎𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩. 𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩, 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙨."
In his final struggle, he collapsed, cinders eroding to the ether. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Carried away by an indifferent breeze, his soot spread and touched the twilight, Tali a silent witness. She remained. A forgetful stare against his windborne remains.
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She woke with a jolt. As always, the coercive force of her dreams forced her front and center to spectate its newest nightmarish odyssey. She sat up and inhaled a breath, one nigh leveled, and threw off the covers as if they'd been contributing to the acrid shroud of confusion that was confining her. The haze quickly cleared but then was usurped by something far graver.
Her memory pieced the trauma in front of her. Eyes on playback. She was back at the breadth of the elevator. Back in the Denmark. Back in the seconds leading to his death.
"I told you I couldn't," Tali bawled to herself, watching what was about to unfold, "I told you."
"𝑌𝑒𝑠, 𝑇𝑎𝑙𝑖. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡."
"I told you, John." Lips moving, but no sound, "Why didn't you listen to me."
"𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡."
He never came back.
Released from the clutches of that projection, her eyes fell to the floor, glare locked in an empty trance.
𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚.
𝐻𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟.
That fact burned her with a ferocity that ignited a wildfire. Fury born in the wake of that howling dark, her feet hit the cold floor and stood with rage in her eyes. It burned, pure and incandescent. Her hands went up as if they wanted to crush her own skull. Spine curled and knees bent as if she suffered a blow to the back of her head.
"Fuck." Venom drooled from her open lips. She threw her hands down and straightened up, gaze now locked on the dimly lit ceiling as she tried desperately to fan away the ghosts clawing at the edges of her soul.
She inhaled sharply. Tried one last vain attempt to stop the boil that seeped. Forehead pressed against a locker door, hands grasping its edges, teeth clenched and fangs baring as her vision blotted with tears not to weep but to hate.
In a sudden, violent motion, she drew a blanched fist back and bludgeoned her assigned locker. Her first made a cavernous sound as it struck the door and she pulled back for another striking blow.
She did it again. Again and again, over and over, blow after blow.
A drumbeat of fury, her bones begged her to stop, but the pain was intoxicating. The locker door started to warp under her relentless siege. She wanted to scream, to unleash a primal sound to curse the universe if it meant she could escape the walls of this phantom prison. No amount of screaming or destruction could bring back what was lost, nor could it temper the silent whispers of John's voice. That realization only stoked the flames until her brazen indignation to the injustices suffered roared its relentless blaze, consuming her mind and heart to oblivion. There was no reasoning with her anymore. She was a blind sponsor to the madness and became an outlet for everything she'd tried so hard to bottle up for so long.
Then hands pulled her back and Juel twisted her around. She wrenched free from his grip and stepped away from the man trying to pull her out from the stupor of her impassioned outburst.
"Don't— don't touch me."
"Tali. What are you doing." Juel demanded, hands up in shock and surprise.
A piercing yawn of quiet subsumed the air. The two of them kept their eyes on each other, neither of them faltering.
Kal entered the room in the same way Juel had, hand resting dutifully on his sidearm. "Somethin' going on here?"
"No." Tali growled a lowly murmur. "Nothing."
Kal gave the fist sized dent a raised brow. "Have a vendetta against lockers?" Kal said as a mirthless joke, "Ma'am, if you need to burn steam, go outside. There's plenty of trees to pick from."
He gave the two of them a stare and decided he'd rather just leave the drama right where he left it. He had enough on his plate. Dealing with incensed behaviors was not something he wanted to be entertaining at this hour. The man left as soon as he'd come, leaving the two alone.
Juel stepped back, stare no longer on her. He couldn't bear to face her any longer.
"Please, Tali. Don't do that again." He said softly.
Tali's chest rose and fell and she didn't say anything to him. With nothing else to say, Juel backed out and left.
A solid sixty seconds of standing and staring at nothing. Then she sat on her cot in a heap, head buried in her hands.
She hated everything. She hated everyone. She hated this galaxy. She hated being here. And lost in this purblind sea that she continued to drown in, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏.
She was stunned and startled to utter silence. Her breath hitched, a quiet, heartbroken, and pitiful sound. She felt her throat close and the fire that had raged was gone. Only the cold remains of what it had ravaged.
"I didn't mean that." She murmured into the stillness, "God, I didn't."
It was a plea of forgiveness. Her bruised and bloodied fist cradled her heart as if she could hold onto what little remained unburned. To protect what her savagery had so readily tried to extinguish. In the hush that followed, she wept tears born of something beyond despair, chest a soundless tremble as she stared down into this life she endured without him.
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Morning approached. With the last of the camp set up and the supplies offloaded, the Loheed took back to the skies to return to the Hartmay in geosynchronous orbit above. You could see a small prick of her silhouette in the sky. The remaining sixteen days would be spent in tents until it came time to leave.
The next eight hours were hours of quiet work. Breakfast had been quiet. The hike to their site had been quiet. Tali barely said twenty words to Juel since this morning. She didn't have a thing to say or anything to discuss. But as the day dragged on, her stare became more placid and docile as she watched her hands, for the 40th time now, place dirt in a jar with Niamo's specific instructions on the lid of what to look for.
She followed them carefully. Drilled, etched, and brushed where she was supposed to. But her mind was elsewhere. Thoughts ensnared by pain both physical and mental.
She added six more words to the day. "How many do we have, Juel."
"A lot. Fifty-eight more 'till quota."
"Ugh, shit." She heaved an inward sigh. She couldn't draw herself to continue for a second longer. In a kneel, she fell back like a lifeless sack and sat on the sands, knees drawn up close and hands around them. Her fingertips absently traced the bruises she'd crafted from last night. A relentless ache traveled from wrist to elbow and she was okay with that. An acceptable self-inflicted reparation from the thoughts she thought last night.
Juel gave her a second glance as he capped his own jar. From where he stood, her back faced her. She sat there like a statue; breaths barely being drawn to her chest. Posture sucked dry. Head hung low.
He dropped the little container into his side pack, clasped the fasteners, and decided that, yeah, it was probably time to take a break. He went up to her, sat down, and set his sample bag aside, small canisters clinking about the pouch.
"Hey."
She didn't acknowledge him.
He felt for a pebble to play with. He scanned the scenery in front of him for a moment.
"...You wanna talk about last night?" He ventured gently, looking at her again.
She turned her head further away from him in shame, eyes cast downward. "Not really."
He nodded at the answer and figured that was the one she was going to give.
"Okay." He said simply.
The silence between them stretched, filled only with the soft rustle of the forest and the distant call of alien fauna. Sensing that now was as good as any other, he unshouldered his backpack and began sifting through it with deliberate slowness.
"You know. There was this girl I knew?" He began as he kept searching for something, "She did this thing? It really cheered me up. Maybe it'll do the same for you."
Out came two foil wrapped bars. She stared warily from the corner of her eye and saw he was holding candy.
"...Are you talking about me?"
"Yeah." He said with a chortle, "I'm talking about you. I still think about that casserole."
Her eyes stared back out to the trees. "...But you said you were broke." She forced a tease, but the tone was lifeless.
"I ain't that broke." He dug around the pack for something else. Out came two SM-10 utensil packets so they could actually eat the things.
"Here. Hold this." Gingerly, he put the candy in front of her face so she couldn't do anything but take it.
"It's my favorite." He said quietly, prepping the first one so they could have their little snack, "Turian Klark'n'Krispy. Buttermilk flavored."
She stared at the candy in her hands, eyes trying to enjoy the pastel wrapper despite the self-directed ire. "Oh."
He plucked the chocolate from her hands and handed her the prepped one instead. "If this doesn't make you feel at least a teensy bit better, I'm not sure what will."
She sniffled. "Thank you."
Lamely, she attached the system, but did not eat. Just shy of attaching his own utensil to his helmet, he decided he was just going to tell her what she needed to hear.
"We all have moments we're not proud of, Tali."
Her eyes locked with his for the first time since her episode last night. It was a sad and mournful look from her. One that came without energy.
"I'm sorry, Juel."
He shrugged at her indifferently, "No reason to be."
He set the candy down a little lower, another random pebble played with, "We're all a bit lost. A little broken." He gave it a weak toss and it rolled down the damp dirt, "We'll find our way through somehow."
He stretched his legs out in front of him and reclined slightly so his face could catch the warm rays of the sun that was peeking through the scattered clouds. He knew words never could measure up to what you felt inside, but he felt like it was worth saying at least this.
"You know, Tali. John loved you. In a way, it'd be sad as hell if you'd gotten over him this fast. Let's you know what hurts was real. Maybe focus on that instead."
Spoken from one soul to another, Tali felt, for the first time, that solace from words could carry weight. Ones that could kinder the pain, if only slightly. She took her first bite of chocolate and let a glimmer of a heavyhearted smile show. The bitterness did not leave, but she did taste sweet.
Irony.
Both of their radio's squawked and they could hear Reeger on the line.
"All teams, all teams. Abdicate and recall posthaste. Operational duties suspended. Desist sampling. Get armed. Stay armed. Combatant fauna. Gauged threat level four. They are underground and very, very dangerous. Stay away from caves and stay away from disturbed dirt."
Juel and Tali immediately stand and pull from their backs their guns before scanning their radials.
"Are you shitting me." Juel panned.
"This is team nine, what should we be expecting?" One of the squads asked.
"Bugs. Giant bugs." Reeger warned, "Get back here now. We need to leave."
"Klendathu." Tali mumbled dauntingly, "Oh god I hope we're not on a Klendathu."
Juel scrunched up a brow. "A what now?"
"Nothing."
"How long is our trek back?"
Tali pulled up her O-T and traced their route. "Twenty minutes if we keep a good pace."
"Let's go."
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Sixteen minutes. That's how long it took before the radio opened up again.
"We got bugs. Heading one nine one."
"Oh, piss. They're ＨＵＧＥ."
"Oh that's not good." Juel breathed over the sputter of coms.
From afar, the crackle of automatic gunfire broke out and, spurred by the sound, Juel and Tali hastened their pace into a run toward the opening tumult.
"Ground to Hartmay, we are combat-active and out-op. Volumetric NAF request in stat. Clamp intercept. Issue receipt to call."
"Copy, Ground. Near-air-fire in task. High and Hostile Density. Loheed's four space authenticated. Ground lot marked. Make your calls."
"Sectional two by one niner one degrees. Eight two one minutes, zero five zero seconds. Bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. You're not gonna miss them."
"Copy Ground. TacNet green. No collateral. Confirm NAF."
"Send it! Send it already! They're moving fast!"
A hellfire descended from the Hartmay stationed above. It took about six seconds before a rain of ordnance met their indicated coordinates, plumes of smoke sent to scrape the sky. Seconds later, Tali and Juel were touched by a passing pressure wave. The deafened crack of sonic booms of the two explosions came shortly after.
"This is Hartmay to Ground, Issue DA."
"Ground to Hartmay. Good effect. Do it again, same spot."
"Affirm. Sending."
"Hartmay, you need to get us out of here."
"Affirm. Loheed is passing preparatory. In lock and underway."
Juel and Tali began to sprint. This situation was not looking good if they were calling for a repeating strike of high-altitude precision munitions. Even at their distance, they could hear dirt beginning to rain around them.
"Some vacation." Juel breathed. For a moment, he wondered if the ghost of Normandy had somehow followed the woman he was running with.
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The bugs were too fast and they were on them. Taren'Gollie, squad lead of first, was the first to get cut down. The man, in his last seconds, stood tall and never disengaged. He expelled sixty rounds into his murderer before an eviscerating claw stomped through his shoulder, nearly splitting him in half.
The rest of first nearly followed. Three more men met death from being gored and speared.
Second squad and whatever remained of first focused fire and killed the wave that broke their line. Then Kal told them to fall back. To fall back wholesale and seed even more ground to the advancing hive mind of giant spiders.
"Loheed," Kal demanded, directing third and a handful of scientists to his right to keep the advancing fauna on their flank in check, "Our situation is untenable. Where are you?"
"Thirty seconds. Just hold on a little longer."
There were simply too many. There wouldn't be much more ground left to give. Thirty seconds sounded like an eternity. Like an impossibility. Fourth took a casualty. Oliak'Intoh was gutted from the waist, upper half tossed like a toy. Screams and more gunfire. A spider smashed through the tent next to Kal and howled its screech, fangs out and chitin shining. A slug entered its mouth and shit out its back.
Tali racked her shotgun and fired again, slug cavitating melon-sized chunks from what passed as a face. It crunched into a lifeless pile, Juel mag dumping the remains.
"Keelah," Kal felt a bit stunned, "thanks."
"Kal," Juel popped a hot sink for his gun, "we're gonna comb through the the remaining tents to make sure no one's hiding."
"Do it."
The pair were gone as soon as they'd come. Head on a swivel, Kal scanned his surroundings and locked eyes on headquarters, the center of their campground that was about to be lost by the approaching arachnids. He had a feeling he knew who he'd find there.
They could hear the booming of engines luring closer. "Look!" A marine by the name of Jaro'Neel pointed upward toward the Loheed, "It's almost here!"
Kal pushed himself forward into a blind sprint, S80 braced tightly against his chest as he ran.
"Suppressive fire. Now." Kal ordered to his team. Four squads immediately held fast and coated their radials with flinging lead as instructed.
Like a cue, he could hear Niamo scream from inside the tent. Kal burst through, S80 cradled into his hip, and unleashed a six hundred and forty round per minute volley toward the charging arachnid inside the confines of her station. His target easily four times the size of a krogan, the quarian marine pressed into his slow and deliberate charge, crew served armament ablaze as he slowly widdled the harrowing monster into a pile of chitin soup. Legs burst. Antennae split. Bellies ruptured. What followed in the onslaught of his focused fire was a cooked scramble that covered both Niamo and Kal head to toe. A hundred and twenty round burst later, he let go of the trigger and listened to Niamo's frantic breathing. Out of an abundance of caution, Kal brought the gun over the broken corpse and dumped about another thirty rounds while Niamo shielded her eyes from the splish and splash of the mess he was making.
Satisfied, he finally looked at her with his smoking gun with the glow of the sun penetrating the gore specked canvas behind him. He didn't part his stare as he yanked its charging handle back, expelling a spent sink with a wet plop into the goop he'd made. He wanted to make a point with his eyes alone. To tell her how wrong she was about earlier yesterday.
"Get up. We're leaving."
She brought herself to her feet and Kal grabbed her arm to lead her to escape.
"You're hurting me!"
"Ma'am. Kindly shut up."
He could see the Loheed touching ground, ramp opening to let them all in.
"Fall back." Kal called out to his team, "Get on the ship. Move."
He pushed her forward and released her. "Do not stop. Run."
He scanned again. "All squads, pull back. Get aboard. Third on cover-assist."
He planted himself into a kneel and resumed fire, scientists and marines alike in a sprint to the safety of the Loheed. With third squad beside him to hold their ground, they bought the science team, his remaining marines, and his two newest members, Juel and Tali, time to reach safety.
"Everyone aboard?"
"Anyone alive is accounted for." He could hear second report.
The spiders were swarming closer. Tents crushed and equipment squashed to oblivion. If they didn't move inside ten seconds, they'd be overrun.
"Final rescind. Get onboard." Kal turned on his heel and broke back into a sprint, up to the ramp and watched it begin to close as they started its ascent. In one last fleeting look, the spiders chased the ship and danced about the camp to destroy what remained.
The door sealed shut. Engines roaring on full thrust, landing gear retracting. Not a word said. The men and women on PODA-S2 sat breathlessly, many of them settled against walls and clinging to sanity. First squad was a mess. Yasil'Maya was crying from watching her friends get cut to pieces while dotted members of second and those remaining from first tried to console her. Third still reeling and processing they'd just lost Oliak in the way they did.
"I wanna know," Kal breathed angrily, "How was that 𝙽𝙾𝚃 noticed on scans in the seven weeks leading to this mission? How could something like that be missed?"
All the eyes in the room fell on Kal as he reared his head toward their lead scientist. "Someone's going to answer for this. Do you understand me? There will be consequences in the shadow of this failure."
Many exchanged glances but no one spoke.
Niamo finally tried to speak, "I didn't have anything to do with preliminar—"
"Bullshit. You picked this place. I read the reports. I read them cover to cover. And I better see a list of every soul that touched this program and their respective responsibilities in your post-op summary when it gets submitted to Gerrel, Niamo."
"Kal'Reeger. Please." Niamo said in a drawn-out and begful cry but he cut her off again.
"This was a waste of time. They're all wastes of time. Blood on hands, take whatever you learned from this place and burry it."
The room remained starkly quiet. Tali stared at the one-sided exchange and then watched Niamo's head fall into her hands. Whatever feelings Tali had about the woman from yesterday were gone. She felt only pity for her now.
Kal turned to everyone else. "What's our headcount, people?" he demanded, "I want a headcount now."
A marine was quick to report. "Sixteen lost. Ten of our own. Six from Dr. Niamo's team."
Kal breathed. Stared at the floor for a good while. Then he flicked S80 to safe and slung it over his shoulder. Ten good marines and six civilians gone. All for this pissing nonsense. The only thing this place was good for now was testing nukes. To the dead above and below, he prayed for penance. He reached for the ladder and stared at them all.
"Process what happened." Kal murmured, staring at no one and nothing, "Then get up top. And strap in."
The gaze Tali shared with Juel was wordless.
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Seven days later.
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4-1-2184
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She watched them jettison away each cloth into blackness. Each a representation of the ten marines they'd lost.
Tali watched, face a mere inch away from the window. She could barely see the family crests as they escaped the Neema.
She was in attendance with the entirety of Gerrel's Special Tasks Unit. Both Kal and Prazza's detachments watched with her as the fabrics simmered from view.
There was a ceremony before it all. One ordained in a ritual she didn't participate in.
Tali wasn't religious. Not by a long shot. Many quarians weren't. To her, juxtaposing the calming practices of giving peace to souls while picturing the men and women cut down in the manner they were didn't sit quite right.
She saw Oliak get swiped in half. She saw Jerah lose her head. Saw Nalia's chest cavitation. She could picture vividly each of the men and women that died on PODA-S2 when she and Juel had finally made it back to camp to escape.
A preacher began his speech, words a beacon. A call to warmth and comfort. But the words rang empty to her. Pyrrhic and hollow. They were words. Nothing else. String them together any way you wanted. It didn't change what happened nor did its prophecies align to the reality of what was to come for the dead.
A call to the beyond had been voided. The reapers had sealed and severed that pact if one had existed. If there was truly an architect or creator to this universe, then their existence here was forsaken. They were doomed to this rinsing cycle of repetition. Fate was a mantle of responsibility wielded only by whoever lived within the arms of the Milky Way. Whatever its inhabitants could arbitrate against the reapers wouldn't be enough to weather what was coming. She was sure of that. Convinced of it.
She stepped back slowly, gradually, face still locked to the stars outside. As the final cloth parted with its slow dance, Tali turned and left. She didn't want to see it anymore.
Those marines had wives, husbands, family, and children. The galaxy would be less without them. It was an incredibly heartbreaking thing to think of. Their deaths would leave a cavern in their wake. Spaces left unfilled. A vacuum to persist evermore.
She reached the ladder and took it down to the solitude of her quarters. Another new pain to shelve in her library of trauma. Confronted with the latest edition of a growing catalog of the pain she harbored, she went all the way back to the genesis of where it started—when she lost her mother. Every event subsequent— the solo survival against Saren and his geth. The atrocities witnessed across all the countless worlds she visited with her Spectre. And a consummation to it all with the end of Normandy, the decimation of her kin, and the loss of John. Each of them engraving her soul with another link in what seemed to be a chain of suffering. These marks would remain. This saga would likely lengthen. They would stay until death due her part. Even that offered no guarantees or promises.
Sometimes it was too much to bear. The cumulative weight of it all threatened to unravel sanity just a bit more with every journey through her labyrinth of agonies.
She reached the floor and walked. Took the corners she needed to reach her room before slipping through her cloth door to sit down on her bed, eyes sad and empty. This wasn't what she had in mind joining Gerrel's STU. At least, not for her first mission abroad. Boring mission turned disaster. She imagined whatever first impressions Juel had probably had him completely second-guessing his position with them.
Motionless was the best way to describe her posture. Face an unreadable sheet, eyes a sunken lax.
She could still recall the screams and the viscera. She tried to turn her head away as if it could shield her vision from the depictions haunting her thoughts, hands pressing up against the glass over her face, brows knit into a tight furrow.
Noveria. It reminded her of Noveria. She drew from memory the comparison of the death and suffering that transpired there.
Entrails. Disemboweled remains. Blood and snow. She pressed her hands even deeper against her face and could feel her skin underneath grow taut under the pressure.
"Why. Whywhywhy." She murmured, trying to push out the nightmares with her palms alone, "Please stop."
Her plea was denied.
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7-19-2183
[ HORSE HEAD NEBULA | PAX SYSTEM | NOVERIA | PEAK 15 ]
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John stopped, face beset with the pain of having to inhale this frightfully cold air. "Hold on. I need to catch my breath." With hardly the will to stand on his own, he let his sling hold onto his gun so he could grip the marred railing in this felled hallway. "Garrus. Hold security."
The turian took up a position and knelt down, rifle raised, and stilled himself. He gave the commander and the frozen gore etched into his gear a glance. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He nodded through a careful sigh, "I'm fine."
"Are you sure." Tali persisted in Garrus' place despite his placating answer, "You don't look okay."
"I'm okay," He murmured, putting up a hand to assure her, "I swear. I'm okay."
She didn't believe him. She stepped closer and inspected what she could to make sure he wasn't lying, intentional or not. Without even asking, she sleuthed off some of the rachni shit encrusted in his suit seals to double-check everything for him.
The silence between the trio was deafening to some degree. Aside from the hollow gusts from the hallway's broken alpine windows and the snow that continued to settle, it was quiet.
Shepard didn't say anything as she palpated and inspected for damage. The fight they'd just survived was a nightmare too close to reality. It was a dark dance of luck. A lone rachni had nearly killed John. Nearly killed her. Razored limbs. A petrifying and alien scream from the animal that tried to gore them. In its frenzied and blind charge, Shepard caught one slashing spear full across the face, while its monstrous legs sought to pin him beneath. Tali's plate carrier had borne the brunt of its fury as well, a vicious strike slamming into her with the force of a rocket. Shepard, in the pitfalls of its attack, had collapsed to the ground. Yet even in his fall, his weapon had roared to life to speak for his desperate ferocity. He unleashed an incendiary maelstrom into the beast's underbelly, tore open its entrails, and cavitated its chest. Its roar of rage and agony chilled the cold air and, unfazed by the storm of fire eating it away, continued its relentless assault until Tali let free a fat slug from her gun and rendered its head to mist. The resulting outcome had painted the Spectre like a mad artist would a defenseless canvas. Only by the grace of their grit and gear had they survived.
She finished her inspection and held onto his shoulder pad. "You're okay."
"I told you I was."
"I was just making sure. Never can be too careful with you." She worked to gussy him up the same way a mom would her son. She wiped away more of what had dribbled behind his neck and any chunk that found its way into the nooks of his gear. It was the least she could do for him.
"Thanks, Tals." He murmured as she tried her best to clean him of the frozen slick, "I'll bring wet wipes next time."
She gave him a single dry and paltry laugh. "I think that's the best I can do." She said, pilling the goop between her fingers to discard the residue off her gloves, "Please be careful."
"I'll try."
"Blue-1, this is Silver-1. We're outside." Kaidan reported, "Ash and I are working on the landlines now."
"This is, uh..." Wrex fumbled with his radio, "Green team? Oh. Green-1..." There was a momentary pause as Wrex kept broadcasting. "...I'm Green-2? Shit. Nothing here at the VI core, Shepard. Sorry Liara, I get conf—"
Wrex ended the transmission both too late and too soon.
Shepard managed to crack a smile. "Full copy, Silver. Understood Green. Keep me posted. We're still heading deeper into the facility. We'll let you know of any important developments."
"Copy. Out." Kaidan said.
"Understood, Blue-1." Liara answered, "Out."
Tali watched John unfasten his helmet from his rig to inspect its warped crown one last time before finally laying it to rest in the snow. Thankfully, that was the worst that had come of their encounter. That and her chest rig, with its exposed ceramic plate and tattered fabric.
"Alright." He gave his rifle a once-over and leveled it, "Let's move."
"Aye." Garrus stood and they stacked up with Shepard leading. Only footsteps and silence for the next minute as they traversed deeper down its depths. Opening a door and crossing its breadth, they slowly scanned their sight lines and took up positions when they saw rachni in some kind of territorial duel over the remains of a dead body.
Tali then realized quite readily the body wasn't dead. Agonal breathing from a gaping torso missing both legs and an arm. Whatever was left of the remaining limb was barely anything to speak about. Wet bone detached from muscle fibers and little else. The face was a diced mess and only an eye remained. But it still held focus. Still trained on the two creatures torturing their plaything.
Like a button to mute, she lost her hearing. Eyes unblinking. The quarian's gaze transfixed on what could barely even measure to abject horror. She did the first thing that came to mind returning to reality. She got a sightline. And fired a single round from her machine pistol into the victim's head to grant what mercy she could.
Hate could barely cross what descended upon that woman. What she saw was an affront to the natural order, a sight so profoundly repugnant that it clawed at the very core of her soul, igniting an inferno that yearned to burn and roar. A tempest of revulsion. Detastation so powerful it warped the air around her in ways no biotic could ever hope to mimic.
Gun released from her grasp, she elected to produce her shotgun instead for the condemnation she poised herself to unleash. She stood in front of John and Garrus, emboldened and protected by what was to be divine wrath.
The rachni, realizing their game had come to an abrupt end, turned to face the slowly approaching quarian and felt delighted that meat-not-like-their-own had so willingly come out to them.
Unfortunately for the budding pair, they didn't yet yield the understanding to know she was armed unlike the dozens of others they'd torn apart.
"Tali, move!" John ordered. That order fell on the deafness of her resolve. She took aim at the leading rachni and fired, its skull instantly rendered hollow. As the carcass cartwheeled into a bloody summersault, she widened the choke and took aim at the second one scurrying toward her with its macabre screech.
She crushed the trigger and bathed it in superheated tungsten. It stumbled from the claymore blanket, crashing into a table and the contents upon it. Beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks shatter, chemicals searing its hide as it screeched.
At the fulcrum of its weaving speers, she fired, scooping fist-sized chunks from its shoulders.
"TALI!"
Rack and fire. She did it over and over into each of its limbs in an intentional and traumatic dissection. A torso now much like its victims, the shotgun fell from her grasp and she drew her knife.
John and Garrus immediately pull from cover to reach her.
She wrenched the nape of its neck upright and reared her blade, pointer against the hilt to issue what it had so readily given to the people of Peak 15. She thrust down into an eye and pulled down to its neck, wrenching and twisting to split whatever bone tried to stop her vivisection.
Then John yanked her way with Garrus finishing off what remained with a volley of fire. She fought and thrashed against his detainment, but John withheld.
"Tali. TALI." He continued to pull her away until his back lined a wall. Then he spun her around and forced her up against that alcove, hands still trapping her. "𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚒."
She stopped struggling and fixed her eyes against his. His heart and stare stiffened from what he was receiving and he let her go. Neither of them moved.
Too spooked to bring words to his lips, his stare finally faltered and she stepped aside. She drew up a forearm, cleaned her blade, and sheathed it. She could feel their stares burning into her when she went for her guns waiting in the snow.
"John," Tali said with an even tone, racking the bolt of her shotgun to check for malfunctions, "They deserved it and you know it. Kindly, lead us."
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The mission ended with Benezia's death. Ended with the team deciding to release the queen of Rachni.
The ride back to Noveria's spaceport had been a quiet one. Everyone had an opinion on what transpired on Peak 15, but it wasn't the time to be expressing them in the din of their tracked snowcat. Liara had to come to terms with killing her mother. Wrex's reservations about what they released were astute and well-seated. But Tali's issue had been the vexation clinging to her soul.
The beaten and exhausted squad of six shuffled through NDC's security gates and offered what information they could to the first responders preparing to make their way to commence relief efforts. The Normandy would remain in Port Hanshan for another day to meet with authorities the following morning as a courtesy to give their statements and testimony.
Then they all went to Normandy's port. Slowing her gait to draw distance from the group, she eventually stopped altogether and watched them enter the frigate's hold. She wanted to be alone. In the quiet solitude of the cold's omnipresence, she continued her idle stroll down the catwalk's length and braced herself up against the concrete, arms knit across her chest and atop the gray dais.
She stared at the vessel she called home. But she didn't pay attention to what she was seeing. The wintry bite of the slabs her body pressed up against bled into her skin but she didn't move.
She was fully cognizant of what was happening to her. Post trauma. It was plain and simple. She wasn't naive to know its effects. She'd felt it plenty. But it never felt any less awful and perturbing. A foreboding that festered.
Five minutes turned to ten. She stared listlessly at the blizzard howling at their dock's breadth, flakes traversing so sharply across the landscape they flowed almost horizontally. She watched the violent weather, mind absently having her pick at the fabric of her plate carrier.
A thought dropped in her lap and she began to rifle through her pockets until she found what she was looking for.
'ɪɢxᴀɴᴏғᴇɴ .256% ʀʟsᴇ | -ᴏɴᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴅᴏsᴇ- | ᴛᴇᴍᴘ. ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴏғ sʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍs ᴏғ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ/ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅɪᴄ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ sᴛʀᴇss.' The little capsule read.
Standard issue to a quarian pilgrim's IFAK. In the days leading up to her leaving the flotilla, she thought it stupid they'd been issued such a potent medicine. The stuffed had bellied a reputation back home. She doubted pilgrims were sidelining their pilgrimage to do what she was doing. But she supposed trauma came in all forms though. It wasn't a contest.
It rest there in her palm, eyes in a glazed trance. Of all the shit she'd seen, this was the one that had finally plucked her string. She could handle the death. She could handle the destruction. What she couldn't handle was what had happened on Peak 15. That was different. There was killing and war. Then there was that.
She turned away from the view, pressed her back against the barrier, and slid down its harsh surface, the ripstop of her plate carrier singing a raspy song until the hard and frigid ground met her.
She uncapped this little metal jar and fished for the syringe. Popping off its protective cap, she checked to make sure the pen was ready and primed before pressing it tightly against her thigh and depressing the button. She didn't even feel a pinch. She sniffled and sighed at the crutch she was using to make the pain go away.
Pen still in hand, arms held taught over knees, she pitched her head back against the hedge and closed her eyes. One minute the same as the last, she sat and waited for her reprieve. Time continued its unceasing draw. She lost herself to its passage.
Eventually, she felt a presence fall beside her. It was warm. It was quiet. She ignored it and paid it no mind. Then she felt that something draw even closer. Too hard to discount its presence, she weakly opened her tired eyes to see John sitting beside her. He looked showered and was back in fatigues with a thick coat and beanie on.
"You've been out here for two hours." He murmured quietly to her.
He wasn't facing her. He didn't say anything else.
She checked her chrono to see he wasn't exaggerating. She really had been out here for that long. "...How's Liara."
"Had a long talk with her. She's—" John paused as if he had to draw in another whole breath, "—handling what she can."
The lasting silence between them was punctuated with the windy howling of the port's backdrop.
"...What happens now." She murmured finally. He knew she wasn't asking for a schedule. There was a momentous crawl and Shepard finally answered.
"You heal. You get better."
He could see her impassive stare trained against the wall in front of them. Vacant and without vigor. He reached for her hand and brought it down next to him to hold onto.
"You will get better, Tali. I promise."
She felt a sadness quake under his touch. Life ebbed back through his soft handle on her.
Still beside each other, knees still close to her chest, she dropped the pen and drew up arms to bury her face into his shoulder. It was a faint weep. A delicate whisper of pain. Hand holding her head and leaning her into a gentle rock, he stared up at the brutal architecture, tears encroaching his vision.
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Present time.
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4-1-2184
[ THE NEEMA ]
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"Juel." Olasie'Venn vas Neema nar Pazahtravon stepped up next to Juel and hugged him. She pulled away from the hug soon after, but held onto his shoulders carefully to make sure he was okay. "How are you feeling?"
He nodded, eyes a bit somber, but largely none worse for the wear. "I'm okay."
"How's Tali?"
"Her usual."
"Mm." She put her hands down and they both watched people begin to file out of the room.
"How was your mission?" Juel asked her to try and keep the air around them afloat, "I'm hoping it wasn't too difficult?"
"No combat." She coiled her arms around her chest, "We just got back four hours ago and got surprised with this—" She looked out the window to try and find one of the tattered fabrics they'd sent out, as if she could pick them out from the blackness, "—we usually don't lose that many unless it's geth."
"Honestly, I think I'd rather fight geth than... do that again." Juel uttered faintly, eyes in a slight dance as if he was recalling something.
She nodded all the same even if she couldn't quite comprehend what it was they put up with, "Maybe we should... go see how Tali's faring."
"Yeah. You're probably right."
"Where is she?"
"In her room, I'm guessing."
"Was she okay at least before the accident?"
"No. Not really."
Olasie supposed she shouldn't be surprised by that. "Oh."
"She's still a mess. Same as last week. And the week before that."
Olasie didn't provide Juel with anything other than a sullen nod. She recognized Tali's behavior for what it was. With nothing else to really say, they both made their way to the ladders that would take them to quarters. Soon enough, they arrived at Tali's space. At her curtain, there was a pause and Olasie gathered a breath before softly calling out her name. "Tali? Hey." It was a tentative note, "It's me and Juel. You there?"
The knock had come at the same time Tali had received a message from... Liara. Like the first, it was unexpected and only invited anxiousness and worry. What cryptic letter was in store for her now?
She stomped out the anxiety as best she could, swiped the email away, and summoned a frail voice to answer Olasie.
"Come in." Came a feeble reply. The fabric parted slightly and Olasie slipped through, Juel in tow, and found Tali perched on the edge of her bed.
Olasie dropped to a crouch and touched her knee to offer some comfort. "Hey. You okay?"
"I'm, okay." She answered plainly with a placating smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's nice to be back home."
"I couldn't agree more." Olasie hummed before turning back to see Juel leaning against the wall behind them both, "I read the report. I'm so sorry you had to see that."
"I'm used to it." Tali said as delicately as possible. She wondered if there ever was a way to say that without it sounding like a humble brag. Witnessing horror wasn't ever something to gloat about.
Olasie tried her best to be uplifting, but navigating Tali's emotional terrain was difficult. She knew of the rumors. Heard them afar in whisperings and was even on the receiving end of them sometimes. She also knew Tali just as well as Juel. But no one, not even them, knew the full narrative of Tali's pilgrimage. She wasn't forthcoming about the details and they could draw easily the reasons why it was such a guarded secret. Only through the piecemeal articles on the extranet could you know of some of the events that occurred.
And then there was the Normandy itself. More importantly, Shepard. The news of their demise had finally pierced the bubble of the Migrant Fleet. It wasn't some explosive revelation as anyone would've expected. It was more like a passing footnote. Something to mention because there was nothing else to talk about. The average quarian, ensconced in the day-to-day, would more than likely struggle to put Shepard's name to a face. The galaxy's upheavals was often a backdrop; just tales from another universe. Events that didn't immediately rattle their existence didn't much matter—even if it involved geth fuckin' around with their rogue spectre.
Such was the nature of their diaspora—a focus so rooted in the daily struggle that the drama outside the flotilla might as well be a tabloid's cover you'd skim over waiting in line for your groceries.
Legislatively, it was largely the same. The most involvement the Migrant Fleet had in the whole thing back in 83 was sending out advisors at the request of the Systems Alliance in the few months following Eden Prime. Eager to produce some type of relationship with the new kids on the block, they'd sent what they could and taught them what they knew. Not a call from the humans since. Neither good nor bad the conclave had concluded.
Juel eyes, in their meandered wanderings, caught something atop Tali's sparsely cluttered desk. With a raised brow, he gave a second glance to the two women in their idled conversation before taking all of one step to lean over.
It was an Igxanofen pen. Probably one of the harder substances to get a hold of and use.
Tali saw Juel staring at his discovery and she felt herself shrink under his shadow when she realized what she'd forgotten to put away. Olasie was saying something but Tali stopped listening. She stood up and went toward her desk with a look on her face that was both one of humiliation and shame. She took the pen into her hands and didn't meet his dejected stare.
"Juel, I..."
Olasie, confused, stood up herself and frowned. "Guys?"
Juel stepped back with no words to say.
"Why would this surprise you?" Tali said quietly, defensively.
"It—it doesn't." He answered.
Frustrated she was still out of the loop, Olasie threw up a palm in confusion. "What's going on?"
She tried her best to hide what was in her hands as if it could save her from what was coming. "...I'm taking something to help... me."
"I don't see the problem with that." Olasie said, nonplussed.
Juel's voice was a cracked whisper. "It's Igxanofen, Olasie."
Olasie's eyes dropped to the thing cradled in Tali's hands. "Oh."
Tali didn't try to defend herself.
"I'm not going to pretend to know what you're going through but you need to reconsider this." Juel explained carefully, "You know what happens to people who use that. The stuff is more than just addictive. It's deadly."
She smacked the pen down, teeth grit, breath trying to stay leveled. "I know. I'm aware of what this is."
Out came a choked sigh, Tali now visibly not okay, "You don't— it's not just about John, okay? It's... it's him and everything before it. Just—everything. This whole galaxy is..." She bubbled out a pitiful sigh and covered her face with a hand and couldn't bring herself to even finish what she tried to start.
"This whole galaxy is what, Tali?" Juel said softly, inviting her to continue.
"We're doomed." She uttered at last in some obscure confession.
Olasie wasn't fully understanding. Was she referring to their maundered, centuries in the making, exodus? Or was she just speaking from the heart? Either was a good assumption given what happened last week. Anyone surviving that was going to color them away from the larger picture. "What do you mean? Are you talking about the fleet?"
"No, I'm not talking about us." She drawled, circling the room to depict them and the whole of quarians, "I'm talking about the entire galaxy. Everyone."
Olasie's voice did not betray her confusion. "I don't think we understand."
An acrid laugh came from Tali and it disturbed them both. "I don't even... know where to start. This isn't something you just swallow all at once."
"We're your friends, Tali. I think you can try."
"Fine." She pointed with an open hand to have Juel sit at her desk before sitting beside Olasie who took a spot on the bed.
"I'm going to tell you. The geth and Saren were not the purveyors of their war. They were puppets to something much worse. There was no geth insurrection. The Citadel is a trap they tried to set. A mass relay to dark space to release the ones that culled the protheans. It's where they hide. They nearly opened that gate again—they almost won."
"You're saying this like it isn't finished."
"It's not."
Olasie and Juel didn't know what to say so they looked at each other.
"I told you." Tali frowned, incensed with the words not all that dissimilar from fiction, "It's not believable."
"It's not that." Juel murmured, "It's just hard to process."
Her voice splintered and she pointed at herself with open hands against her chest. "And that's why I need help."
Juel got up from his seat and sat down next to Tali so they were both flanking her.
"That's what we're here for, Tali."
Her hands fell lifelessly into her lap and she stared at the floor. Olasie brought her in with an arm, Juel putting a hand on her shoulder.
"We love you, Tali." Olasie cooed, "You'll get better. I promise."
In that promise, Tali's heart grew heavy, eyes still lifeless. Olasie's words, while earnest and solemn, mirrored a distant memory. John had said that once, telling her the very same in the shadowed and dark coldness of Port Hanshan.
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Twenty uneventful days passed. Like any normal quarian, Tali spent it in toil. But the time after her fourteen-hour shifts was one spent in the company of her room or the trading decks to mingle around odds and ends.
Right now, Tali spent the remaining few hours of her free time sifting through the extranet; combing through current events and the galaxy at large. Getting bored of the surfing, she closed out her tabs until only her email remained and the only message that remained on it.
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ᴛᴏ: ᴛᴀʟɪ'ᴢᴏʀᴀʜ
ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ʟɪᴀʀᴀ
sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ: ɴᴏ sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ
ʀᴇʙɪʀᴛʜ. ʟᴀᴢᴀʀᴜs.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ-ʟɪᴀʀᴀ
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Even more cryptic than the last. Tali gave up trying to make sense of it days ago. She closed that too and just sat. Stared at the desktop and its landscape background of green grass and blue skies, fingers rapping idly along the surface of her desk thinking of how she was going to pacify what was, amusingly enough, boredom.
Her eyes landed on the Igxanofen by chance. She still hadn't taken it. The pain never let up, but she ushered in enough resolve to at least try to listen to her friend's pleas. She drew open a shelf and hid it away.
Maybe she'd go bother Juel. Or Olasie. Kill time since she knew they weren't doing anything either.
"Knock knock." Juel tapped her door.
"Huh. I was just about to go over and bother you."
"Not Olasie? She is your neighbor."
"It was going to be a coin toss."
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
He parted the curtain and dropped a butt load of mail on her bed.
"Juel!"
"Mail call." He started sifting through it and pushed around the boxes and mailers to try and organize the pile.
She squinted at him. "What did you order?"
"Me? This is all your crap."
She stood. "What? I don't remember buying anything."
"Welp, it's got your name on it. Open one. See what's inside."
He handed her the most innocuous of the bunch.
"ooo, did I hear mail?" Olasie head poked through Tali's curtains, "Whatcha get, Tali?"
"I have no idea," Tali grumbled, hoping that reading the label alone would rack her brain enough, "If I bought this stuff, then I really don't remember."
"Hear that, Juel? Sounds like a rich girl problem. Forgetting things you bought online."
"What a brat." Juel sniffed, crossing his arms.
She tore open the mailer and out came a suit seal.
"Oh that's... that's boring." Juel fanned a hand, "I was hoping to see something cool."
Olasie's head still looked as if it floated in the middle of her curtain. "Open another."
"Alright." Tali reached for her multi-tool and cut open a random box. She peered inside. It was a realk. A new one. One that was her color.
"Oh." Juel whistled when she held it dumbly in her hand, "Wow, Tali. You really don't remember buying this?"
She was drawing a blank. "...No."
"Of course you don't, silly! That's because we bought it for you." Olasie giggled, finally pushing herself through the curtains, arms wide. She whisked away the rolled realk in Tali's hands and cast it out in a twirl before placing it against the woman's chest to get a picture of what it would finally look like on her. "Oh, you're going to look so beautiful in this."
Tali, beginning to let her feelings catch on, felt a rosy pinkness flush her cheeks. "You guys... bought me a new realk?"
"Oh, we bought you more than that." Juel grinned, "It's a whole suit. Nice 'an pretty. All the gadgets. All the gizmos."
"Yeah. You can finally ditch that patch job of yours on the arm. I mean; what are those tubes even for."
Tali stared at her arm as if it were an alien attached to her. "It's... a conduit for my sensory inputs."
"Well, those are weaved right into this bad boy." Juel pat one of the parcels, "No more silly tubes."
Enyah'Say vas Neema nar Oyulna, Tali's upstairs neighbor, peeked her head in next, "Ah, damn. I just missed the surprise didn't I?"
"Yeah," Juel moped, "But that's okay, you're just in time for us to poke some fun at her though."
Tali, with grace, took the fabric Olasie had been holding and looked down at its pattern before a frail and embarrassed laugh bubbled from her lips. She felt rays of light glow on her weary heart. It was a moment—a tiny, small, and precious moment—where the dark was gone. In her cramped room in the company of her friends, or better yet, her new family, a warm lightness began to seep. She realized that she wasn't alone. That there were those here who cared enough about her suffering enough to try and ease it. She felt basked in its glow and tears welled in her eyes from the shower of affection and the gift they went to such lengths to get her.
Tali also wondered just how much it cost or, more importantly, how they managed to find her size. Then she remembered. The memory was vague now, but a few weeks back Olasie had been talking about suit sizes to her in such an inconspicuous kind of way that she never put the two together. It wasn't even remotely suspicious with Olasie asking the questions she was. But it all made sense now.
"Please tell me you guys didn't spend a fortune on me."
"You are worth it." Enyah said with a hush, hands together and on her tippy toes from vicarious excitement, "We already booked you a clean room so you can try it on now, too!"
Tali sniffled a happy sniffle and hugged them all one by one. "You guys are just the best." Her heart caught in her throat and voice cracking, she looked up at the ceiling, "Oh, I think you all are gonna make me cry."
"Well do that in the clean room." Juel said, yanking the curtains aside; come on now. Olasie, could you get your tote to help Tali carry it all?"
"Yeah." Olasie was back inside a few seconds. They dumped everything into it and offered it to Tali who then graciously accepted.
"Enjoy." Olasie said with a parting smile. Enyah and Juel waved her off and there was a lightness to her step.
When Tali was gone, they all felt a bit smitten with the two women flanking Juel sighing.
"Don't you guys just feel so good about this?" Olasie peeped with a beam.
"Yeah." Enyah chimed happily.
Juel stretched his back and, ever the pragmatic, said, "Made the wallet a bit tight. Down a lotta credits."
With wasplike frowns on lips and fists pinned to hips, they both scowled at him.
"Juel!"
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Aboard the Neema, you had twelve cleanrooms for the whole of the ship. They were always on a rotating schedule. You had to book one to use one. As anyone would guess, they were used for a whole variety of reasons. From the banal of working on suits to the spicy fun of getting your rocks off. Not the most romantic thing in the world having to plan when you were gonna bang your partner, but it was better than never doing it at all.
Tali wanted to use it for exactly 1.5 reasons. The last .5 required a partner, which John was sorely lacking. Even though she was down a man, she wasn't going to waste this high. This was a gravy train to ride for as long as you could.
Old suit discarded and sulking on the floor, she took her shower and let her imagination take her there.
Look. You were naked. You took advantage of that. Without so much as a second thought, she dropped to her knees for leverage and touched her spot to let the pleasure sweep her off her feet. A soft moan escaped her, hair dripping and face beaded in warm water.
The self-indulging taxed her, and her imagination was doing an incredible job of having John doing all the work.
Keelah. That sounded so dirty.
Soon enough, she came. Her climax threw her high into the air and left her completely breathless. She was gliding on a plane of existence she hadn't felt in months.
"Oh, I needed that." Came a soundless whisper drowned by the steamy stream. She rose back to her feet, finished her shower, and dried off with a soft but eager smile that bellied the excitement of changing into her gift.
She went to the bed where her new suit and its accessories waited. The realk caught her eye again and she drew it up in her hands to look at her reflection. The grin that played with her lips made a gleeful cheer and she felt like a kid again admiring a new treasure. It was a small sound, but in the quiet hum of the filtered air, it still echoed.
She could absolutely imagine herself in this.
For the first time since coming back, she felt happy.
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ＩＧＸＡＮＯＦＥＮ - Ａ ＣＡＵＴＩＯＮＡＲＹ ＴＡＬＥ
ᴀ ᴍɪɢʀᴀɴᴛ ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴏʀʏ
Understanding Igxanofen
Igxanofen, a groundbreaking medication developed for the rapid alleviation of Reactive/Episodic Traumatic Stress (RETS), has been a beacon of hope for many facing past traumas. Administered via a medical pen for fast action, its formulation is specifically designed for our unique dextro-amino physiology. However, with great potential comes great responsibility.
The Dark Side of Relief
While Igxanofen promises relief from the clutches of RETS, its misuse harbors a chilling narrative—one of dependency, deterioration, and, in grave cases, death. This advisory recounts the harrowing journey of a crew member (identity withheld for privacy) and serves as a stark warning against its improper use.
The Descent into Dependency
It began with a prescribed dose, a beacon in the storm of post-traumatic stress. However, the immediate relief it provided became a siren call. The crew member, entangled in the web of the drug's solace, began seeking it beyond necessity, forging prescriptions and acquiring doses through the black market.
A Life Unraveled
As dependence deepened, the once-promising engineer's proficiency and passion waned. Duties were neglected and relationships withered. Igxanofen, once a tool for healing, became a poison running through the veins of its victim.
The Final Chapter
The relentless pursuit of the drug's ephemeral peace culminated in tragedy. An overdose—accidental but inevitable in the spiral of addiction—claimed the life of the crew member. Alone, with a pen in hand and a room silent but for the whisper of recycled air, a life extinguished.
A Warning Echoed
This tale is not unique. It is a specter that haunts the corridors of our ships, a silent threat that could unravel the very fabric of our resilience and unity. Let this advisory serve as a reminder:
Use Igxanofen only as prescribed by a certified medical professional.
Be vigilant against the signs of dependency, both in yourself and in your kin.
Report any illicit distribution channels to Fleet Security.
Seek support for mental health struggles—dependence on Igxanofen is a path to isolation, not healing.
In Conclusion
Igxanofen holds the power to mend the scars of trauma when used with caution and respect. Yet, its abuse casts a long shadow, harboring outcomes far graver than the traumas it seeks to heal. Tread this path with wisdom, safeguarding the health and future of our people.
For support and resources, please contact the Fleet Mental Health Services or your ship's medical team.
ɪssᴜᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʀᴀɴᴛ ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴏʀʏ ʙᴏᴀʀᴅ