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NuclearBuddha wrote...
Shala is good to her word. She’s got a new suit for me before I have to leave.
“I’m sorry, Tali, it’s the most I can do,” is all she says when she offers it to me. Sometimes I think she really does understand. But it’s a little late for that now.
I peel away the old, revealing scars I didn’t know I had, though I’m the only one who can see most of them. I have to admit the suit is a nice one, showing off my hips. Mother always said that was going to be my best feature.
“A fresh start,” she nods approvingly as I adjust my wrap. Oh yes, Auntie. Look out, galaxy, this is a whole new Tali, a girl with a plan.
Quarians have a saying: If you haven’t got a destination, no relay will take you anywhere. Well, I’ve got one now, and I’m going there fast. What’s left of my team will work for the recovery operation; there’s no need to involve anyone new. Hopefully I won’t take too many of them with me. Just one, really, will suffice.
That brings me to the only requisition I’ve got other than the usual supplies. I’m going to leave the Migrant Fleet better off than I found it. Even if it kills me. Daddy’s going to be proud. I want Prazza.
I must not have hurt him as badly as I thought. By the time a new shuttle is located and outfitted for the run into the Terminus systems, he’s out of sickbay and, murdering hand still gloved in black, sullenly standing with the others waiting to embark. He should be happy to see me; isn’t this what he wanted? Tali’Zorah, ready to give it all for the Migrant Fleet. He should be honored to follow my lead on this one.
I pause in front of him, making a quick inspection of his kit. He’s got an Alliance-made assault rifle, in top condition, actually. There were some elcor on Ekuna, a few businesspeople on Noveria and a Blue Sun on the Citadel who could attest to that. If they were still alive, that is.
“Glad to have you with me,” I tell him. Probably no one else catches the irony.
“I’ll prove myself to you.” It’s hard to tell if he’s making a threat or plea.
“I don’t doubt it.” I hate the sight of him, hate the sound of his voice, and I hate myself for what I’ve got to do, leading him like this. I’d love to put a bullet in his head, but quarians don’t waste anything. If someone as broken as me can be of use to the Flotilla, I’m sure I’ll find something for him to do.
The others file onto the shuttle at my nod, but I hold Prazza back for a moment. One little adjustment, and then we’ll be ready.
“Your hand.” I hold out my own. Putting out the black-gloved hand, he hesitates for a moment, then grasps mine. Gripping tightly and twisting, I draw my knife and slash the heavy material open along his forearm.
“It looks like you’ve got a rupture. Be sure to disinfect. We’ll wait.” I drop a proper armored glove in grey at his feet and pause until he bends to pick it up before I board the shuttle.
The trip doesn't take long. Everyone keeps their distance. That's fine by me. Best to prepare for the great silence early. I'll be spending eternity in it.
Our small ship touches down on the outskirts of Freedom's Progress. The walls are large and blocky. I'm suddenly reminded of a coffin. It's quiet, the wind echoeing with the moans of dead. It's a choir I'll relish in singing in. No more pain. No more racism. No more love that was never mine.
We make our way through the empty buildings. It's tragic. These colonists wanted a new life, a fresh start. We're alike, laughter is gone and the hallways are silent, all that remains is a shell. It's a fitting tomb. I can't decide if I want it to end here, or if I should fight on to Haestrom. I'm not coming back either way. Dad won't care if I meet my end a bit earlier than planned. He never cared.
Prazza sticks to himself, absently rubbing his wrist. I hope it stings you bosh'tet. It's nothing like what I felt. I know he's glaring at me behind that mask. Go ahead. Stare at me. Soon, those eyes will see only black. We can spend eternity together Prazza. I hope their is an afterlife. I want to show you what it is to suffer. What it is to be unloved. I could do that forever.
"What's the plan?" One of the marines asks. I wonder if he has a family back home. I wonder if he has people who love him. I wonder if he has children. I wonder if he knows he signed up for a suicide mission. I wonder why I care.
"Find Nara. Exfiltrate. Try not to die." Simple advice. Even Prazza can't screw that up.
Who am I kidding. Of course he can.
We make our way deeper into the colony, the stillness of the wind reminding me of Omega. I wonder who it was that Sidonis lost to the Blue Suns. I wonder what she felt before she died. I wonder if it helped knowing someone cared about her.
I wish Shepard was here.
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