[LTD-Taseyri]Bazaar

The bazaar of the Citadel's ward Taseyri was, even moreso than the Citadel itself, a miniature version of the galaxy. Every species were present in vast numbers, haggling over prices, some sellers ready to bolt as soon as their duct rats sentinels signaled a C-Sec patrol, others shouting to attract the fleeting attention of the potential buyers. The air was saturated with food smell from everywhere, dextro and levo food mixed in a random and potentially dangerous way.

It was a lively place and Michelle was very happy to get to spend some time there during the day. She had set up a meeting with the Elcor named Xuumo-kalashasi, known on Cerberus Daily News as "Slow and Steady". He needed help finding an orphan child that he could give help to, and Michelle would help him because it was her job. Not fighting gangs would be a nice change of pace, she tought while passing a Salarian who was wrestling the food he was selling from a small cart from a keeper who seemed to think it was refuse good for the vats.

It may not have been her job to stop at every stand to smell exotic fruits or consider buying an asari scarf, but she did it anyway, often asking Snow his opinion, that she in no way took into account.

Even after a walkthrough of the bazaar near Dillinaga Hall a few days ago did nothing to lessen the shock Julian Snow felt as he and his boss, Miss Rondor meandered their way through the masses. On the way here Miss Rondor told him about some elcor she met on CDN, that wanted to help a single duct rat, "He's no pervert, he gave his word", thinking sarcastically as they browsed the kiosks. At least they'd get to meet this 'benevolent soul', take his measure. That was a small consolation to Snow as he absently murmured his approval to Miss Whiskers's choice of food and clothing. The leather shop caught the lanky charity worker's eye, as he made his way over, a thought crossed his mind,

"Could stand to get a sheath for my new blade..." Heading over to the kiosk, Snow looked over the merchandise, but too damn poor to buy anything. Turning back to Miss Whiskers, the ex-salvager looked for this deviant...no, potential benefactor, letting her know about his concerns about the entire situation,

"This doesn't strike you as odd Miss, an Elcor, looking to an adopt a human boy, using the extranet. My guess is his gov't makes him tell his neighbors about his...urges." Snow giving Miss Rondor a skeptical look, his grey eyes meeting hers, his expression showing his distaste.

The bazaar was far too small. It always felt too small, every time he came down here. In fact, most of the Citadel's open areas felt confining and restrictive, despite the apparent consensus among aliens that the station was actually spacious. Spacious? It just went to show how far removed the station's inhabitants were from anything approaching the good life. Back on Dekuuna, the vast open-air Exchange Platforms sprawled for miles, family groups from all surrounding settlements mingling in the clean air and the sacred rays of the sun. Ah, Dekuuna. He missed it, more so with each day that passed. The subtle scents and wide open spaces of the birthworld, the soothing comforts of the communal baths...

Lost in memory, he blundered into a makeshift stall and scattered cheap trinkets across the floor. Bother!. He forgot how oversized he was among the bipeds. Now is not the time to be distracted! You have to make a good impression!

"Apologetic: My mistake, madam. Allow me to help". He scooped up the plastic moxies and mock-religious broaches in a paw, replacing them with surprising deftness. The asari stall-owner shot him a dirty look, but said nothing.

Some of the trinkets looked faux-Dekuunan. How amusing. No true son or daughter of the birthworld would be fooled, or taken in by anything less than the real deal. He should know, having once had the honour of arranging travel for the Ralinbathanon Collection during the Venerable Ralinbathanon's anniversary tour of C-Space. He wondered how the old matriarch was faring, actually. He had been trapped on the Citadel since the chaos of the wartime evacuation, and hadn't seen Dekuuna for almost two years. Hadn't even seen with his own eyes the damage that had been inflicted on it, though he took comfort in the fact that his world was in better shape than most. He had even been able to read an abridged copy of the Code of the Ancients, and from it get the lay of the land regarding the slow process of reinterpreting the laws and customs of his people. He'd need to stay informed, after all. It wouldn't do any good to return home proudly only to stumble on some reinterpreted point of law he'd failed to keep abreast of.

What he hadn't been able to do (and the thought shamed him) was find the dietary supplements he wanted, although he'd apparently succeeded in arranging a delivery in the days to come. Assuming the human with an apparent expletive for a name was reliable. For now, he'd have to hope his digestion didn't play up while meeting Michelle Rondor of Leaving the Ducts. That would be embarrassing, and he was becoming tired of having his efforts inconvenienced by quirks of biology and nutrition. Sourly, he reflected (perhaps unfairly, admittedly) that this was his old friend's fault.

Curse you, Pietro, why did you have to try and make that last run? Impatient and flighty like always! His old acquaintance had a fair amount of sense, for a human (albeit he took far too many risks, though that was always the case with the fast-paced bipeds). Evidently, though, he didn't have luck or wit enough to survive the full-on descent of apocalypse. When he'd heard the news of Pietro's death, he'd despaired, all the more so when it became apparent that none of their Earth-based associates (some who he'd known for years) were thought to be among the living. Truthfully, he had been angry. But there was a ray of hope: Pietro's son, Alonso, was thought to have survived, though reduced - as so many had been - to a homeless refugee. From his remaining contacts in the Systems Alliance, he'd managed to track the boy to Tayseri Ward, he and Pietro's old stomping ground. If he could find the boy, and offer him shelter...

He had promises to keep, and to any elcor the weight of the past and the burden of responsibility were powerful indeed.

And now here he was, preparing to meet the one person who had consistently proven useful in aiding him.

That must be her. His and Alonso's futures would depend on his making a good impression here. He began to move toward her with what, by elcor standards, was surprising speed.

She turned and smiled with apparent recognition (well, how many other elcor would be lumbering with purpose towards her?), and he bowed at the knees in greeting.

"Respectful: May I assume you are Ms. Rondor? I am Xuumo-kalashasi, very pleased to meet you".

She pointed to the cuff of his foreleg. He extended the limb in question and took a look. A plastic trinket in the shape of a smiling moxie was stuck there. Hmmmm. He hadn't noticed that. He steadied himself on three legs and reached up with a paw to peel it off, before handing it to the human.

"Pleasantly cheerful: A token of appreciation, for the work you do".

Michelle was about to answer Snow's remark when she heard the Elcor approaching.

Let's hope he didn't hear that.

She smiled brightly at the little trinket the Elcor gave her.

"It's adorable, I love moxies, thank you so much! Well Xuumo-kalashasi it's a real pleasure to meet you, as you guessed I'm Michelle, and this is my colleague and friend Julian Snow. He'll help us make sure we all do what's best for Alonso.

So , partly for Mr Snow's benefit, could you expand on how you know Alonso?"

The second human, a male, was watching him with healthy suspicion. This individual seemed piercingly intelligent, but as the subtleties of elcor communication were lost to the bipeds, he was confident that the man named for the frozen rain (how appropriate given that cold glare) would be unable to get a read on him. He addressed Rondor, but kept both within his field of vision:

“Approvingly: Straight to business, I see. I understand you have a lot of work to do, and I appreciate I’m distracting from the wider issue with inquiries after one specific child. In truth, Ms. Rondor, if you’d asked me before this war if I would be interested in providing for needy children, I would have said no. If I have a flaw, it's that I'm not often moved to support charitable causes".

He wondered if the male would pounce on that.

"Morosely: But old promises and the call of friendship have a way of changing our priorities. Pietro Cutri was a friend of mine. We met on the Citadel almost a decade ago, when I was serving in the diplomatic staff of one of our offworld representatives. Part of a small department that oversees transport and protection of elcor cultural treasures. A minor position, but I was proud to help preserve the customs of my people. My family herd is from an old tradition, and I take those roots seriously. Tightly prideful: Even if it causes me inconvenience.

Wistfully: Pietro and I came to know each other well as we arranged matters of import for our respective delegations. It was a productive time for all of us, and those bonds we forged were a key part of that".

If only that state of affairs had weathered the Reapers....

"With concern: As you surely understand, I felt obliged to trace the boy, particularly as I feared for his safety. I don’t need to tell you the potential dangers in this ward. If I can provide assistance, I owe it to Pietro to ensure his genealogical line continues in safety, that his son has reliable housing and protection. It would break Pietro's heart to see him become involved in the gangs".

He slowly swung his head, ensuring that both humans were addressed, frustrated that the careful and almost instinctive body language conveying the depth of his concern wasn't being conveyed.

"With resignation: I freely admit than in ideal circumstances having Alonso move in with me would not be the best course of action for him or for me, but as you’ll agree, we are far, far removed from ideal circumstances. If I can provide even temporary accommodation to him, it will both ease my sense of debt to a friend and take one more child off of your paws. Hands."

Michelle listened patiently to the slow and methodical diction of the elcor while absent-mindedly cleaning the small trinket with a tissue.

"That's good, that's good, but, and I apologize if I'm blunt here, I assume the child knows you? Or you at least have proof of your friendship with his father?
As you understand it is not just about convincing the child. To adopt him there is also a children's judge who has to approve the file."

"Assuredly: Of course I understand, Ms Rondor. Yes, young Alonso will know me. I cannot claim to have spent a great deal of time with the boy - my friendship with his father involved our mutual work, not his homelife - but I'll be recognisable and hopefully reassuring.

With conviction: As for the required proof, I will submit gladly to genetic testing that can be compared against the records of the Dekuunan embassy, where I will be listed as a past employee. I do not know how extensive human records are, but Pietro Cutri should be similarly registered with your own diplomatic staff on the Citadel, assuming some of those records survived. From there, finding evidence of our collaboration should not be difficult.

Flattering: With your support, I should be able to make a case for myself.

With tragic undertone: In these trying times, we must do what we can".

"All this effort for one duct rat?" Snow mused inwardly as he nodded to Xuumo in greeting, Miss Rondor may not have said anything to him, but the icy stare given in reply to his observation of the Elcor was loud and clear, can't say anything nice, shut the hell up. The latter Snow was grateful to do as he gave Xuumo and Miss Rondor some space, keeping the immediate area monitored. The ex-salvager doubted that the Lower Tayseri Elite would take a shot at him and his fluffy colleague, but stranger things have happened,


"Like robot squids killing everything", Snow thought, just as the elcor finished his sob story, it was funny. For the length Xuumo went on about the duct rat and his deceased alliance father, the walking tank hardly mentioned the Alliance embassy. It was probably nothing, but no harm in asking. Turning back towards Xuumo and Miss Rondor, Snow coughed softly to them, before interjecting,

"Fuckin' tragic, but what about the Alliance office and other relaitives? You haven't said much about either...sir", letting his thousand yard gaze meet Xuumo's, Snow waited to hear the explanation.

"Yes, it's a good question, we'll have to deal with the Alliance sooner or later anyway."

Perhaps they were uncomfortable with having a human child sheltered by an elcor. Placing a child in the care of a being from a radically different species was always controversial, and while he had never before had much interest in the issue, he could understand why. In some ways, the bipeds were as grounded in their traditions as his own kind, for all that they often failed to acknowledge it - or indeed notice. If that was the extent of their concern at present, though, he should be able to work past it. After all, it was often said that the elcor, of all the galaxy's major races, were considered the most trustworthy. And in the current climate, no-one could rely on the old procedures to be as effective as they once were. Greater flexibility was required.

"Regretfully: With the extent of the losses to Earth and the Citadel, I doubt any close relatives could be traced through the Alliance. I knew the family, and it was not large".

He drew himself up to full elcor height, hoping that his bearing would seem proud and benevolent. As ever, the complex nature of elcor pheromones and body language would not be getting through to the humans, so he had to be shamefully broad in his motions. Such sadly unsubtle beings. Pietro was one of the rare exceptions.

"With soothing acknowledgement: Procedure and tradition must be followed, Ms. Rondor; as elcor, I understand and appreciate this. However, in such times as these, I must also assume that we must be more flexible in our approach.

With concern: Were the human authorities able to reliably provide for their displaced young, I would imagine they would already have done so, particularly now one of the children has been identified. However, since you are here, Ms. Rondor - and I have seen your comments on the board we both frequent, so I am quite aware of your concerns regarding the dangers you face - that is clearly not the case.

Slight impatience: Should the issue be a desire to see young Alonso raised among his own kind, I am sensitive to this concern. I do not suggest he join a herd or relinquish his human identity. Given the appalling circumstances and the over-burdened social support networks, I do however feel that an offer of shelter and protection should be welcome, regardless of my species".

His stomach rumbled. Not wishing to punctuate the moment by succumbing to the complexities of elcor digestion, he stepped back a few paces (sending a salarian shopper scurrying out of the way).

"You misunderstand us Xuumo-kalashasi, the questions we're asking would be just as well asked to a human. There are procedures for those things, and I can help make them go smoothly, but the authorities will want to know you have the boy's best interest at heart.

Another question, should you get custody of Alonso, where would you live? Here on the Citadel? I'm asking because social services will want to keep an eye on how he adapts with you for at least a few months, so they'll want you to stay at arm's lengh."

That wasn't surprising. So they'd be poking around for a few months, making sure he wasn't storing the boy in a cupboard or feeding him sweet-grass instead of human fare. Well, it would be a distraction, but it would also be useful. After all, he didn't actually have prior experience with children. If the boy were to be truly comfortable around him, if he was to make good on his promises, he would need to take the advice of those who understood what he'd need to learn - and where he'd need to make changes. He wanted to make Alonso feel like he belonged. To have come so far only to stumble now would be disastrous.

He warned himself not to lose sight of the present moment; he wasn't guaranteed anything here. Living among far smaller and less imposing beings, he was used to simply moving from point A to point B, his bulk and the bipeds' poor sense of his mood allowing him to move unimpeded, straight to the point he wished to reach. This was different. The responsibility he was asking to take on was huge, and he must make allowances. Of course the humans would be hesitant. He couldn't blame them, given the current atmosphere in this part of Tayseri. Oh yes, he was aware in general terms of the trouble Rondor and her glaring associate were having - they had posted not-so cryptic accounts on CDN.

"Pleasant reassurance: You will be pleased to hear, Ms. Rondor, that I am currently living at Tayseri Point, so keeping track of our mutual adjustment should not prove difficult, should the appropriate authorities rule in my favour.

Sober reflection: I do not claim to be the galaxy's expert in providing for human children. What I can tell you is that I have traced the boy here and committed to ensuring his safety despite having opportunity to return to Dekuuna. Emphatically: The history I share with his father is of considerable importance to me, and defining my immediate future in terms of Alonso's safe retrieval is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make".

Michelle smiled approvingly.

"Well that sounds great to me! Please don't lose sight of the fact that any time you need help, even after the adoption process is completed, we'll be more than willing to help. Our role is to secure kids' futures, not just get them off the street!"

She turned to Snow.

"Well I'm convinced. How about we go ask the kid himself?"

For what it was worth, Xuumo-kalashasi thought the female human was indeed supportive of his efforts, though whether she was fully convinced as she claimed, he couldn't be sure. He suspected it didn't matter. After all, he had spoken truth - the situation was appalling, and help had to come from where it could. No doubt Rondor wanted this to work as much as he did. She must be enthusiastic about finding a way out of the life of the so-called "duct rat" for even one of these unfortunate children. That she had to be cautious didn't change her hopes for a successful resolution. She is, essentially, my ally. The thought was reassuring. A shame the male human was still on edge.

"Tentative pleasure: To see Alonso in person, and finally confirm his safety, would be a great relief to me, Ms. Rondor. I would be glad to accompany you and make my case directly".

"Provided we can find him Miss Rondor", Snow answered, looking around the bazaar momentarily before turning back to Xuumo, "the specific kid we're going to be looking for, the clawball court is his last known location, and it's LTE territory." The ex-salvager had to hand it to Xuumo, he knew how to answer the questions without giving much away. Frustrating as hell, but what could he do, aside from start looking for Alonso and making sure the Lower Tayseri Elite didn't interfere with the search and rescue. As soon as Miss Whiskers mentioned looking for the kid, Snow subconsciously readjusted his left arm, the weight of the knife reassuring as he stepped back over to where his fluffy supervisor and elcor client were waiting. Xuumo had a knack for understatement, time for him to hear just how bad the 'troubles' really were.

"If we're going to find him Xuumo, we'll need to start right now. I kind of kicked the hornet's nest, to use a human turn of phrase, and if the LTE, the gang that I crossed, finds out about Alonso, they'll fuckin' kill him out of spite. Because the location that Father Matembo gave us, it's right on the edge of LTE's sphere of influence." Levelling his grey eyes to meet Xuumo's, Snow thought about the implications of snatching a kid from the LTE, especially right on the heels of the ex-salvager mauling two of their legbreakers. "Let's just hope that the LTE is consistently stupid, it might be the only thing that keeps Alonso out of their sights."


Finishing, Snow knelt down and began to relace his boots, looking up at the coming and going of the masses, hoping that if someone was following, they'd be close enough to identify. The area looked clear as he finished his little ruse, thinking to himself, "just another day on Tayseri."

While Snow and Xuumo discussed, Michelle bought food from a nearby stand, mostly sweets and non perishable food. Levo and Dextro.

"Let's go then."

The old clawball field wasn't far. It was easy to see why it provided a good refuge for the kids. The administration area, while hit by the reapers, was mostly covered and had many exit points. The field himself was a huge playground, and many duct rats hang in there. Some were playing ball games, some were sharing food, alcohol or cigarettes. Their facial expressions were varied, the oldest, the teenagers, had a tired and wary look about them. Some of the youngest seemed rather innocent, playing ball games together. Many young teenagers were holding babies.

There was around 20 kids on the field, maybe more inside. Of all races. And when they saw the three adults approaching, the youngest stopped playing and went inside, and the oldest stood up, some of them reaching for improvised weapons.

"This takes me back", Snow mused as the trio reached the abandoned clawball courts. Graffiti on the walls, cliques smoking and joking, a few of the senior rats with little bastards of their own. Not to mention the smell of piss and shit. For all the propaganda of the Citadel being the heart of galactic civilisation, here was a scene the ex-salvager knew all too well from personal experience. This was a place for the peewees to call home, to catch a breath and share the spoils of the day.

"Might as well be back in North Portland", a knowing grin on his face as he saw the younger rats head for the exits, the older ones grabbing pipes, makeshift blades, a few with actual knives. Snow kept his hands in his pockets as he neared the edge of the field, acting like he belonged as he pulled out a pack of smokes. Despite the defiance he grinned, knowing that they wouldn't strike first, yet. Looking over at the rats he called out casually,

"Anyone got a light?"

Allowing the humans to lead the way, Xuumo-kalashasi silently cursed the universe and the bipeds in it. Most of them, anyway; he might make an exception for these two if they helped him secure Pietro's legacy, and saved his old friend's boy from whatever violent fate they envisioned. The situation was infuriating, and not a little disturbing. I thought I would be having a pleasant meeting with Rondor and a reunion with the boy, not getting directly involved in their little war. Clearly, he had underestimated the degree to which their troubles would become his own, and he directed some of his anger at himself for his foolishness. He was getting sloppy, convinced that the unsubtle nature of the bipeds meant they were beneath his notice, none of his concern. Had he thought he could just bring the boy home and walk off into the sunset without effort? Why had he focused so much on convincing Rondor he was able to support Alonso, and neglected the wishes of the gangs, who currently had more control over the boy's destiny? As ever when things began slipping out of control, or when he was propelled into something without preparation, it made him want to bellow, and reminded him just why this place was so aggravating. I succeed in tracing Alonso, in getting assistance for my efforts at recovering him safely, and just when he's almost retrieved some gang is apparently going to try and kill him, out of general spite. He came to a bitter conclusion: I hate the Citadel.

Was it worse that on some level he even understood the gangmembers' twisted reasoning? Curse their thin hides and spiteful little minds! Truly, he was more alarmed than he wanted the others to know - he didn't know what he'd do if this ended poorly, if he didn't get a chance to make good on his promises.

All of this passed through the elcor's mind as he trudged after the humans, no doubt seeming to them a mountain of silent stoicism. The gravity on the Citadel was incredibly light, for a native of Dekuuna, and although by most standards he was lumbering comparatively slowly, by his own there was quite a spring in his step. He'd need to move faster than usual to keep up with the humans, but like most elcor the sense of speeding up, of disregarding the care with which each step was taken, put him further on edge. Too much haste, too much drama. Damn you, Pietro, why did you have to go and die on me?

He was led to a clawball court populated by a ragtag band of children and young adolescents, some of which had young of their own. How tragic. No sign of Alonso at the moment, though, and his mood fell even further.

Time to show off his ability to handle children. Perhaps some of these unfortunate youngsters hadn't met a full-grown elcor before, and would be intrigued. For that matter, there weren't any young of his kind here, either.

"With desperate cheer: Hello, young ones. We didn't mean to disturb your play".

They stared back, silent. Many reached for weapons; knives, even.

Never mind, then.

He leant down to speak quietly to the human woman.

"Expectantly: I imagine you know what you're doing more than I, Ms. Rondor".

It was the male human who spoke first, though.

Snow's request did nothing to ease the tension and defiance shown by the duct rats. Two of them began to brandish their makeshift weapons, and far from confusion that the lanky charity worker expected, what he did see was a grim, hungry desperation. These two didn't see an intruder, they saw a potential meal ticket as the one on Snow's right stopped at about ten feet away. "You, the red hoody? Are you the one who beat up Boss Zahir's men?" The one to the left of Snow kept quiet though she tightened her grip on the length of pipe she was holding. "Shit, didn't think it would get around that quick", the ex-salvager thought as he put the smoke back in the pack, slowly putting the pack away, his eyes never leaving the two rats for a second. "Well, are you?" The male duct rat asking again, trying to sound tough, but merely sounding shrill to Snow, who just let his smile fade before asking,

"If by men, you mean the two assholes threatening Father Matembo, the priest who runs the shelter down yonder, then I guess so", Snow replying cooly, subtly shifting his left arm, making sure his blade was within reach before continuing, "let me guess kid, this Boss Zahir, he's put a price on my head." The rat to Snow's left stepped back when hearing the charity worker's admission, the one on the right snarling back, "when they came by, they told us 500 credits, along with what happens if we don't kill you", the rat on Snow's left taking a step to her right, revealing a badly beaten duct rat being tended to by her peers. "They beat Denise until she was unconscious, just because...just because", the rat whispering angrily before shouting, "YOU COULDN'T LEAVE IT ALONE!"

"No, no no no ", Snow whispering as he saw a little girl fifty feet away, beaten by a group of thugs because they couldn't get to him at the moment. Breathing was becoming harder, when he looked back at the duct rat, what he saw was a young Alliance private, full load out, screaming at his commanding officer,
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"Are you satisfied LT? We just murdered 60 civilians because you couldn't just leave it the fuck alone. Well, are you SIR?????"
The private wasn't just cursing his commander, Cerberus, or the damn war. Private Julian Snow was cursing himself for being too weak and cowardly to put a stop to it, and too many died for his weakness. The stench of burning meat, the walls of the compound covered with ash shadow outlines of the dead.....
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Snow was so caught up in that particular memory he almost didn't see the lead rat coming towards him with the blade....almost. Acting on instinct Snow withdrew his knife, his grey eyes distant but his voice cold and forceful,
"Use it or throw it away."

Ho this is bad. What am I doing here?

As usual none of Michelle's concern showed on her face, but she was very unsure on what to do. Seeing that the diplomatic answer wouldn't come from Snow, and that Xuumo, although meaning well, was also out of his depth.

Ok, here goes nothing.

Michelle suddenly darted between the weapon bearing kids and straight to a badly bruised teenager, who was resting under the porch.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" ask the kids.

Ignoring them, Michelle kneeled near Denise. A kid near her, obviously her boyfriend, looked menacing, but did nothing, while the other gathered around.

Denise herself looked worried, but was too weak to stand up.

"Ok, my name's Michelle. It's a little bit my fault if you're like this, so I'm going to help you. I can see you're in pain, and if you'll let me I'll do something about that."

"YOU GET BACK NOW", said suddenly her boyfriend, drawing a shiv and putting near Michelle's throat. She didn't move, examining instead Denise. She exhaled in relief, completely ignoring the death threat that was the kid near her.

"No concussion, that's good. There is a pill against the pain, and some water. Drink it please, you'll feel better soon. And some food. There is enough for your friends. Now now, eat slower, we don't want you to choke."

The boyfriend still looked grim, but seeing Denise eating, he pocketed the shiv and started to eat a little himself.

A rough looking kid however, apparently the boss of the group, snuck up behind Michelle, iron bar in hand, and seemed intent on hitting her.

"We don't need you, bitch!"