Shala'Bekk vas Neema - Life Goes On Part 1
Jul 18, 2014 11:26:21 GMT -6
Maelstrom and Eric Lysander like this
Post by Shala'Bekk vas Neema on Jul 18, 2014 11:26:21 GMT -6
Shala stood in the Presidium Commons, marveling at it. If someone had told her six months ago she would be a resident of the proverbial heart of the galaxy, she would’ve laughed. But now…
She thought back to the journey, both physical and psychological, that had brought her there: her Pilgrimage, the attack—Lylia, I miss you—the job offer, the mission…
The mission. Part of her could still scarcely believe it. She had fought Collectors and won, and then there was the discovery of that ancient race…
Maelstrom…
She thought back to the human, the one with the damaged soul. She had a wounded soul as well, so she understood his pain all too well. Leaving him had been one of the hardest things she had to do. She could see his path, and it was not hers, as much as she wanted to join him. She could only hope her gift and her words would be enough.
It wouldn’t hurt to check on a fellow crewmember…
She brought up her omnitool and began typing a message.
“Move along,” someone said.
She looked over to see a human, a C-Sec officer, looking down on her. “There’s strict rules against vagrancy,” he said. “Now move along before I make you.”
The Citadel was a marvel of engineering, a thing of beauty, but inside was the ugliness of racism. It seemed every day—sometimes more—that she was stopped by a C-Sec officer determined to run her off the station.
How odd that the protectors of peace and justice are close-minded bigots while the bloodthirsty mercs are the most accepting…
Except for Captain Bridges. When she told him she wished to leave the team as it wasn’t the right path for her, he had curtly dismissed her without giving her any references, leaving her to fend for herself on the Citadel. She was just glad that Dr. Tela T’Goni, leader of the science colony that was her home during her Pilgrimage, was willing and able to help her; she now worked as a mechanic for a small space exploration company.
“I won’t ask again,” the C-Sec officer said, snapping her out of her reverie. She could see he now had his hand on his heavy pistol.
“I am no vagrant,” she said. “I live and work here.”
“Really?” he said.
In her short time on the Citadel, she had become much more proficient at reading the tones and facial expressions of humans—mostly the negative ones. She could tell that he did not believe her.
Keelah, she thought as she contacted her captain—no, her employer. It was an asari whose father was salarian, and she had clearly picked up her father’s hyperactivity; she was restless, often working long hours and interrupting other people in order to finish their conversations.
“What is it, Shala?” she asked irritably.
“C-Sec,” Shala said simply. Calls like these had become commonplace, so that was all she had to say.
“Officer, this quarian is an employee of mine,” the asari said. “She is no vagrant, so stop harassing her. Is there anything else?”
“Uh, no, ma’am,” the officer said.
“Good,” the asari snapped. “Perhaps C-Sec should create a roster of all the quarians living here so they can stop harassing them and wasting everyone’s time.”
“Yes ma’am,” the officer said, but the asari had already hung up.
He looked over at her, and she could tell he was resenting being talked to like that. “Sorry,” he said—she could tell he didn’t mean it—and left.
She turned back to the view, gathering her thoughts and pushing the incident out of her mind before opening her omnitool and drafting a message.
Maelstrom
How are you? I am doing well. After leaving the Valiant, I did not return to the Fleet. I am living and working on the Citadel now. If you are ever in the area, please stop by. It would be nice to see a friendly face (for both of us).
Shala’Bekk vas Neema
She thought back to the journey, both physical and psychological, that had brought her there: her Pilgrimage, the attack—Lylia, I miss you—the job offer, the mission…
The mission. Part of her could still scarcely believe it. She had fought Collectors and won, and then there was the discovery of that ancient race…
Maelstrom…
She thought back to the human, the one with the damaged soul. She had a wounded soul as well, so she understood his pain all too well. Leaving him had been one of the hardest things she had to do. She could see his path, and it was not hers, as much as she wanted to join him. She could only hope her gift and her words would be enough.
It wouldn’t hurt to check on a fellow crewmember…
She brought up her omnitool and began typing a message.
“Move along,” someone said.
She looked over to see a human, a C-Sec officer, looking down on her. “There’s strict rules against vagrancy,” he said. “Now move along before I make you.”
The Citadel was a marvel of engineering, a thing of beauty, but inside was the ugliness of racism. It seemed every day—sometimes more—that she was stopped by a C-Sec officer determined to run her off the station.
How odd that the protectors of peace and justice are close-minded bigots while the bloodthirsty mercs are the most accepting…
Except for Captain Bridges. When she told him she wished to leave the team as it wasn’t the right path for her, he had curtly dismissed her without giving her any references, leaving her to fend for herself on the Citadel. She was just glad that Dr. Tela T’Goni, leader of the science colony that was her home during her Pilgrimage, was willing and able to help her; she now worked as a mechanic for a small space exploration company.
“I won’t ask again,” the C-Sec officer said, snapping her out of her reverie. She could see he now had his hand on his heavy pistol.
“I am no vagrant,” she said. “I live and work here.”
“Really?” he said.
In her short time on the Citadel, she had become much more proficient at reading the tones and facial expressions of humans—mostly the negative ones. She could tell that he did not believe her.
Keelah, she thought as she contacted her captain—no, her employer. It was an asari whose father was salarian, and she had clearly picked up her father’s hyperactivity; she was restless, often working long hours and interrupting other people in order to finish their conversations.
“What is it, Shala?” she asked irritably.
“C-Sec,” Shala said simply. Calls like these had become commonplace, so that was all she had to say.
“Officer, this quarian is an employee of mine,” the asari said. “She is no vagrant, so stop harassing her. Is there anything else?”
“Uh, no, ma’am,” the officer said.
“Good,” the asari snapped. “Perhaps C-Sec should create a roster of all the quarians living here so they can stop harassing them and wasting everyone’s time.”
“Yes ma’am,” the officer said, but the asari had already hung up.
He looked over at her, and she could tell he was resenting being talked to like that. “Sorry,” he said—she could tell he didn’t mean it—and left.
She turned back to the view, gathering her thoughts and pushing the incident out of her mind before opening her omnitool and drafting a message.
Maelstrom
How are you? I am doing well. After leaving the Valiant, I did not return to the Fleet. I am living and working on the Citadel now. If you are ever in the area, please stop by. It would be nice to see a friendly face (for both of us).
Shala’Bekk vas Neema