[Leaving the Ducts]: The Jelly Man Can

Within the office of Leaving the Ducts, Laykalar was moored at the central desk, reading. For anyone looking in on this, there was nothing that would strike them as unusual. To those in the know, however, things were very different indeed.

The climate controls for the office had been set to a higher humidity, one more soothing to a hanar. Sensitive to the need for the room to remain as welcoming as possible, particularly for the children, he had found a balance between his own preferences and the Citadel standard. Part of him delighted in the opportunity to fiddle with things, while another part solemnly committed itself to keeping the place as Rondor would recognise it. The tea-making machine had been placed to his left, ready to produce the warm beverage whenever he felt it was needed. His Nokatok doll was perched cheerfully on the end of the desk, a personal touch that served as a clue to what, exactly, had recently changed.

With Rondor and Snow away from the Citadel, Laykalar had been left to oversee the charity's operations. He was in charge. The trust being placed in him was gratifying indeed, and he was still somewhat basking in the glow of it. He wasn't running things alone, of course; he had the assistance of Shaart Klarkoi, a colleague who continued to fascinate him, in large part because he remained such a mystery. The raloi was a private and often terse figure, who shared little about himself and rarely socialized. The confirmed survival of Turvess should have been enough to animate him, but Shaart's response to the news had been muted and pessimistic. Laykalar had yet to find a way to truly connect with his co-worker. Maybe they would get to know each other better over the next few days? He hoped so.

At the moment, he was having a small break. He was reading through the human literature provided by Sarah Thompson, while also jotting down ideas for his first meeting with Quylid, occasionally making a note of quotations that he considered particularly representative of human thought patterns. He was interrupted in this by an incoming transmission, which he noted had been flagged as originating with the Turian Hierarchy. How intriguing. He manipulated the controls with a tentacle.

After a moment, a turian appeared on the screen, its sharp eyes boring into him. The turians were a strange people to look at; their bodies so hard and rigid in contrast to the soft undulations of hanar flesh. This one's facial tattoos were arranged in a pattern that reminded Laykalar of a polyp's first flickering attempts at speech, while the metallic gleam of the armoured exoskeleton lent an aura of gravitas to its appearance.

"Greetings! The other has reached the office of Leaving the Ducts, registered charity. No child should live in ducts! May this one provide assistance?"

"I thought this charity was human-run?"

The turian spoke bluntly, which didn't surprise Laykalar. He had learned shortly after arriving on the Citadel that turians were often direct, and that no disrespect was intended by it. Somehow the terse speech seemed to suit their unyielding appearance.

"The respectable other is correct that Leaving the Ducts' founder and president is human. It can report that the president is currently engaged in vital business off-station, and this one is overseeing matters in her absence. It assures the other that Leaving the Ducts is fully equipped to provide needed services".

The turian huffed, apparently neither impressed nor offended, and then introduced itself. "Belthus Nemenex, Tier 12".

"This one's face name is Laykalar".

"Mr. Laykalar. I represent the office of Minister Durana, Citadel Laudatix, Presidium".

"This one is pleased to make the acquaintance of the other! How may it be of service?"

This, he thought with a thrill of excitement, sounded like just the sort of attention the charity needed.

"I assume you maintain detailed files on the duct rat population in lower Tayseri?"

They certainly did. It was among the more sensitive of their duties, given the danger posed by the gangs. The break-in attempt during the charity dinner had proven how determined local criminals could be when it came to acquiring that information - and the consequences for some of the children would be horrifying if they ever succeeded.

"These ones take their responsibility to vulnerable youth very seriously. This one cannot share information without good cause".

"Of course". The turian moved its head in the manner that indicated agreement. "I'm contacting you to solicit your assistance in tracing a Hierarchy minor. We have reason to believe that the child has found her way to lower Tayseri. We would appreciate being able to meet with you or your representatives in order to discuss the matter".

That was how it began.

As far as things had began, this 'day' had actually begun better than expected. Whoever had been in charge of the environmental controls, this had been a turn for the good. Shaart had stripped to bare minimums he could bare to move without being obscene by Citadel standards, shorts cut to end just before his reverse-jointed knees and a tank top that seemed a number too small for him.

The dark avian appeared at the office's open doorway, the usual frown gone from his face.

"Laykalar, do you know who has been adjusting the humidity in here? I'd prefer it stayed at this level. It helps my plumage recover from all that time spent in dry environments."

While being confined to the envirosuit had kept the humidity, it had also retained the heat and made him feel ill nearly all the time from being too hot. The dry air on the Citadel on the other hand dried Shaart right up, which wasn't pleasant either. But this? This he might get used to.

"This one was more comfortable with the climate set to these specifications. It is glad that the other concurs".

Often, it seemed that the only way to learn more about Shaart was to extrapolate from the few preferences he revealed after the fact. Rarely did he ask for anything.

The raloi had entered just as Laykalar was signing off, having happily informed Nemenex that he'd be delighted to meet with the Hierarchy's people at their convenience. They'd agreed to a rendezvous at Remarrus Memorial Park, two hours ahead.

Laykalar folded the tip of a forward tendril over its partner, in imitation of a hand gesture employed by his human colleagues. "The other's timing is fortuitous! These ones have a case".

He would need Shaart's assistance here. While he trusted in his ability to represent the charity, the truth remained that the turians might be more comfortable with a being whose body language was at least somewhat like their own. He also considered the fact that Shaart knew how to defend himself, something turians respected. Hanar weren't known for their martial prowess, and that might colour the others' perceptions.

"This one has been contacted by the office of Minister Durana, of the Turian Hierarchy". He didn't know the minister, but the turian's position within the Laudatix, overseeing the citizenship ranking system for the station's residents, was enough to make it clear that this would be a sensitive assignment, perhaps the most important they had thus far received. Laykalar wondered briefly if Assemblyman Vallario might have put in a word for them. "These ones have been asked to assist in the recovery of a turian child on the minister's behalf".

A pause, and then a question delivered almost shyly: "Has the other dealt with the Hierarchy in the past?"

"I briefly considered applying as client citizen for them, if only to get fed regularly and have a fresh change of clothes, but the requirements were quite high for someone living in the Citadel Foundations." Shaart replied, the hint of contentness gone off from his face. "In addition, that would have meant me giving up on my freedoms. I will never sell myself to any form servitude."

The raloi straightened his arms and yawned wide, feathers ruffling up with it. He was quick to return to his previous posture, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway.

"What did they tell of you the child?"

"This one has not yet been given much information. It imagines the turians wish to exercise discretion in this matter".

Reuniting splintered families was one of the more rewarding elements of Leaving the Ducts' work. In the aftermath of the Great Storm, so many youngsters had been left adrift. It would likely be many years before the fate of the majority could be known, and many might never be found. Anything Laykalar could do to restore a child to its parents would be a good day's work. He felt, beneath his satisfaction, a twinge of regret. He hadn't thought about his own family for some time.

"It is not familiar with Minister Durana; it regrets to inform the other that it has not been monitoring recent political developments aboard the station". He undulated with momentary uncertainty. "This one would value the other's support here. It may well have greater success reading the subtleties of the situation".

Laykalar was a trusting hanar, but he was taking his responsibility to Leaving the Ducts seriously. For the sake of the charity's reputation, this case would need to be handled carefully and with great sensitivity. The Hierarchy's command structure in the Sol System was still comparatively unsteady. Since Director Kalixi of the Education Ministry had been arrested for embezzlement, there had been quiet but substantial unrest within the local turian ranks. The Laudatix must have been under scrutiny. Whomever it was who'd promoted Kalixi to her position in the first place would have needed to answer for that mistake. There had been what the humans delightfully termed a "reshuffling".

When Laykalar first arrived on the station, he would likely have greeted the turians with great enthusiasm but little restraint. Over time, though, he'd come to understand that communication outside of his species relied on adaptability, a willingness to keep his curiosity and excitement under control, and suppress the visceral distress his people experienced when confronted with informal speech. Many hanar had great difficulty adapting - Quylid was a perfect example. Laykalar knew that he himself had a tendency to speak in a manner that could be frustrating for other species. Shaart's terser speech patterns might be more to the turians' liking.

These things needed to be considered.

"I would imagine lost children would be a matter of discretion for high ministers. Neglect is not a concept that one wishes associate with high in the structure."

Some feathers were bristled as Shaart registered the hanar's request for assistance. This was not a field he was familiar in, but the raloi did work for Leaving the Ducts now...and he loathed to admit he owed them at least this help for getting him out of the gutter.

"I shall accompany you to the meeting."

It had been arranged to happen down the Wards at Palaven Gardens. Public park in a turian neighbourhood with Citadel branch of the Hierarchy's revenue service just few blocks earthward.

Shaart's military senses were scoping out hiding spots, vantage points for snipers, possible escape routes and places for ambushes. None of them were to be expected in a meeting about finding someone's missing child, he knew it, but old soldier's habits were hard to die away, especially when they had been still used for survival just few weeks ago.

No camouflaged troops anymore. Just a civilian job with some civil servants. His clothes weren't any good for camouflage either. He had looked for something more formal than the shorts and tank top, and the casual suit he had found had to suffice, but it sat wrongly, so wrongly onto his features. Laykalar didn't have such worries. He, or it was a hanar, and aquatic creatures like Laykalar didn't like clothing so much, nor had much to hide from others with them.

If Laykalar was aware of Shaart's extreme vigilance and general discomfort, he made no comment on either. He was admiring their surroundings, his multi-directional vision focused on several bystanders at once. He wondered how many of those people came from incomplete families - most of them, probably. There were so many shattered reefs. But - he thought optimistically - it was his function to help bring light into the gloom. Each helpful tendril that brought another pair of sundered loved ones together was an affirmation of the first Enkindlement, an act of purest charity. In light of that, he wondered if the minister's reputation would suffer for having only now managed to trace the child. Neglect, Shaart had phrased it, suggesting that the time lapse in finding his daughter would reflect poorly on Durana. Was that how the turians were likely to view the matter? He could have looked through his notes for any references to turian family values, but he didn't think he should distract himself; he had caused a fair few misunderstandings in the past by too eagerly pursuing tangents. It would be distressing, though, if the reunion should be marred by political and personal shame.

Remarrus Memorial Park lay at the heart of the Palaven Gardens. Named for the noted general who died defending Daleon from the Sexten Blight, it was currently populated by only a few Citadel residents, mostly turians. Presently, a vehicle arrived, clearly official if not ostentatious, and disgorged four more of the species. One he recognized as Nemenex (he was pleased to have identified the man so quickly). A second, to his delight, was most likely Durana himself. The two remaining turians looked to be aides, one likely also the driver, and - these being turians - capable bodyguards.

Nemenex stepped close, fixing the two of them with a keen eye. "Mr. Laykalar?"

"This one is indeed Laykalar. It is pleased to meet the other in person. It humbly introduces its associate, Mr. Shaart Klarkoi"

"Thank you for your punctuality. I present here Minister Kendeilus Durana, Tier 23".

The minister was an older man, so far as Laykalar could judge. His carapace was unusually dark, his left mandible scarred and slightly deformed; an old war wound? Turians were so fascinating to behold. The texture and rough complexity of their bodies was as rich as the swirling patterns of language played across a hanar's bell. A different form of beauty.

"Mr. Laykalar. I have come before you to enlist Leaving the Ducts' aid in a most personal matter. A matter of heart and of honour. My daughter, Renexi -"

"Tier 1" said Nemenex.

"Thank you, Belthus". There was a note of cold impatience in Durana's voice. "My daughter has been missing for some time, and only recently has her general location become known to me".

"These ones exist to offer aid and support to all vulnerable youth, and are committed to ensuring a better tomorrow for all of the station's displaced youngsters" said Laykalar. "The other has come to the right place!"

"Indeed I have" said Durana. "I know that Renexi has already been in contact with Leaving the Ducts".

Laykalar was surprised. He had thought that this meeting would be about the effort to ascertain whether that was so, not to assert it as fact. "This one would inquire as to the other's source, should the respectable other be free to name it?", he asked guardedly.

The minister produced a card, instantly recognisable as one of the decorations from the charity dinner. Many of the children had left personalized messages for visitors to read. This one was in the hand of a child who had signed her name, Elisim. The significance of that was unclear to Laykalar.

"May this one humbly inquire as to where the other acquired this item?"

"A large pack of Sundowners and a barefaced politician who brings regular embarrassment to the name of turian?" said Nemenex, his disdain obvious. "It was in this ministry's interest to observe the company kept by one of your turian guests, prior to the upcoming oserun. Her promotion to the sixteenth tier -"

"Is not currently under discussion, Belthus". The minister was definitely irritated this time. "Mr. Laykalar, the woman in question is a subordinate of mine, who knew enough to suspect the possibility that this was my Renexi. She brought this away with her, and upon receiving it I took steps to search for further evidence. I now believe I have enough to go on. This is my daughter, Mr. Laykalar".

The intensity in his voice made his certainty clear.

"This one believes the honoured other should explain its reasoning" said Laykalar, "and the circumstances surrounding the original separation".

"The war is to blame, as I imagine many other children you deal with would reply when asked why they live in the Ducts. Renexi was in care of my brother who lived here on the Citadel, but the Reaper takeover killed him. It was the last I had heard of my daughter, until now." Durana explained himself, keeping his eyes fixed on the hanar.

"And how do you know it is really her?" Shaart was quick to interject, arms crossed and appraising the turian minister like he was ready to charge him. He appraised anyone he talked to as potential opponent. Durana's carapace presented a challenge, little soft tissue were exposed, he wouldn't be able to use his talons, unlike against Laykalar-

"I am getting towards it, raloi, now if you'll allow me..." Kendeilus showed the card around again. "Elisim is an ancient heroine of the turian history. Part fable, part actual history, she was a determined warrior and most of all, survivalist. Even when her city-state had fallen, the hostile neighbours at her spurs and storm season to make her life difficult, Elisim would not give in. She made the hunters the hunted, used the terrain and weather to her advantage for a season until the armies gave up the search." the minister put the card back into his pocket.

"It was Renexi's favourite story. I read it to her many times at bed time. No one else but Elisim would fit better to describe her survival from Reapers and in the ducts."

However the tale had not impressed Shaart much. So much expectations for drama placed on a child! "Your daughter has quite the penchant for dramatic messages. How old was she again?"

The explanation for the child's original loss was reasonable, and - distressingly - the circumstances were far from unusual. The reasoning behind Durana's insistence that the girl in question was clearly his daughter was harder to accept. Laykalar had been uneasy with Shaart's blunt interrogations, but he reasoned that this was partially why he had brought the raloi along. Plain speaking was a virtue to the turians, whose impressive philosophical insights were delivered in surprisingly - disappointingly - straightforward discourse. Shaart's approach was perhaps the best one. He hoped, though, that his own supportive manner would counterbalance any offense given by Shaart's.

"This one's colleague has introduced a line of inquiry which this one finds to be reasonable". said Laykalar. "Is it not possible that a tale of such power might prove popular with others, and that this child has adopted the name independently? Reading such significance into this as the other has may, regrettably, be in error".

"I think I know my own daughter, Mr. Laykalar. As for age -" he shot a look back at Shaart - "she would be approaching thirteen".

Shaart was holding himself in a manner that Laykalar recognized as sceptical. The hanar recalled a dynamic that the honourable Rondor had sometimes taken advantage of, making use of the contrast between her own enthusiasm and Snow's unflinching terseness. It was called "morally correct and pleasurable law enforcer in conjunction with unappealing and potentially threatening law enforcer". He had written a short mini-essay on the subject back when he was focusing on cultural and psychological binaries. If one member of a investigative duo were to take an antagonistic position and the second a supportive one, the subject would form a preference for, or even an allegiance to, the latter. This would make it far more likely that truthful revelations would follow; cooperation would be assured! Pleased at finding himself in a position to employ something similar, he addressed Durana again.

"This one understands that the other must be impatient to follow through on this lead! It asks understanding for its respectable colleague, who is merely zealous in his commitment to the safety of the young beings these ones so frequently aid. This one is anxious to provide the other with the needed assistance. Can the other elaborate on the additional evidence it claims to possess?"

Nearly of age then? This wasn't quite the child retrieval Shaart had thought of when Laykalar had informed him of the case at the offices. They were dealing with a teenager, and they weren't simply a case of grab and run anymore. Teens could fight back efficiently, and turians had plenty of sharp talons to fight with.

"Mr. Laykalar, my sources indicate that Renexi is in charge of one of those duct rat packs. She is certainly enough old to fit the usual description of a pack leader, and given her education, I wouldn't expect anything less from my daughter who scores top marks on leadership courses. She has the signs of a commander in the making." the minister explained with pride. Who wouldn't be proud of their children surviving with such distinction from a tumultous upset of public order like the war was?

"I would fold my feathers to you in show of approval, minister Durana, were I not confined to clothes designed for humans." Shaart spoke with a nod. "However, if you daughter is indeed a leader of the children in the ducts, and has been for a while, how do you reckon she will react to being removed from her position?"

The minister looked at the raloi in disbelief. Had this homeless mongrel just insinuated Renexi only sent the card to snub him?

"Then why would she go out and contact my subordinates mister Klarkoi, if not to secure a way out of the Foundations?"

"If she did send the card, then I won't doubt her motivations. However, consider this: did she really send it, or could it be someone unsatisfied with her leadership? Another member of Renexi's pack who wishes to lead instead of follow, but needs a way to clear her out of the picture cleanly?"

Laykalar pulsed gently. It was certainly worth considering such things. There was something not quite right about this. The humans spoke of gut feelings, which referenced the long digestive organ that curled up inside their abdomen. He could only assume that intuitive flashes produced intestinal distress in humans, hence the phrasing. That must be unpleasant, but also perhaps useful. The minister was convinced that the card had been intended as a message, as a personal request for retrieval, or at least a subtle confirmation of the child's safety. That seemed far too convenient and convoluted, but Laykalar was hesitant to make the argument. He understood why the parent would hold to that idea. He wouldn't want to come across as obstructive, either, not with such a well-connected individual, with such standing in the station's social hierarchy.

"These ones will seek to establish contact this very cycle, minister! The honoured other may rest assured that locating the other's daughter will not be difficult".

"I can trust your discretion in this matter?"

Laykalar hesitated. "These ones are committed to discretion where it is in the interests of the children and their families. Should these ones feel the situation warrants it, however, these ones will involve other Tayseri agencies. The honoured other would surely wish for the greatest possible support for its child".

Durana appraised them for a long moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied. He glanced at Nemenex, who handed Laykalar a small communicator. "This is partnered with a model in my possession. Use it to contact us when you require our presence".

Laykalar took the device in a tentacle.

"Your service is appreciated. My people will expect to hear from you within the day". With the discipline for which their culture was renowned, Durana and his retinue turned as one and walked toward their vehicle. Laykalar watched silently as they went, noticing as the minister's shoulders began to shake. Emotional turmoil was not to be shown to outsiders, then. That was something important to know about the man's worldview. He wondered what the turian must be thinking.

****

Back in their office, Laykalar bounced back and forth as he prepared a pot of tea. Shaart stood nearby, his expression unreadable. So complicated, these alien faces. Lacking the subtle flickers of language, but swarming nonetheless with odd lumps and pits, shining intelligent eyes and ungainly breathing holes. Laykalar was still learning to decipher them. He had the suspicion, though, that even one familiar with raloi faces might find it hard to judge what Shaart was thinking.

"This one will make efforts to approach the girl on her own turf, in a manner that does not detract from her possible authority among the other gang members. It will complete the ritual of tea preparation, and then these ones should make for the correct foraging grounds". A thought occurred to him, and he added brightly, "These ones should purchase or prepare a peace offering of food or useful items along the way, in order to 'sweeten the deal'." Shaart possibly winced at the hanar's cheerful appropriation of yet another alien expression.

Dealing with the duct rats could be problematic. Shaart was correct: there was often reluctance there to abandon the makeshift societies and quasi-legal way of life the children established in the Citadel vents. Like anyone, and perhaps especially the young, they became accustomed to their situation, proud of their identity as survivors. To drag them from their chosen bays on the riptide of goodwill was not always an unambiguously positive action, no matter its necessity for their overall good. You had to be patient. That was why he was completing the ritual of tea before moving on.

"The minister's office has sent us imagery. Could the other ensure it has a picture on its person?"

Shaart's face was actually quite mellow, as they were back in the Turvess-like climate of the offices. He was following Laykalar's tea ceremony with one eye, another focused on his omni-tool going through the offices' records on kids they knew, cross-comparing it to the picture Durana had given to them. How did an aquatic being like Laykalar enjoy tea? How would it drink it, dunk a tentacle in the teapot? Wouldn't it burn? Would Laykalar get sick if someone puked on it, or how would it stand up to cold? The Foundations could get freezing at places.

"If we are bringing food, it should be packed securely when bought from store. Duct rats treat unpacked food with suspicion, as it could contain poison. If you have to rip open the packaging to eat it, it means less chance of harmful tampering." This Shaart knew from personal experience. He had once gotten so desperate to eat conveniently left out food in the Foundations only to fall terribly sick, and the salarian he had shared the meal with died frothing by the mouth. It had not been a morale-raising experience.

"I am ahead of you. The turian's picture is here." he waved the omni-tool.

Shortly thereafter, the pair of them were on the move. They made an unusual couple, and more than a few strange glances were directed their way. The Citadel's artificial environs were less than sparkling in this part of the ward - possibly they never had been, but the aftermath of war and depravation was being keenly felt. If there was any one powerful symbol of the need for the galaxy's peoples to come together in compassion and mutual understanding, it was the struggle faced by those who lived in the core of the Enkindlers' greatest stronghold.

Laykalar carried a food supply, an offering of sorts to the duct rat community. On the advice of a former duct rat who had contacted the learned Rondor soon after the charity had been established, the food was not only sealed but marked with a small series of icons. The former would ease their paranoia regarding tampering, as Shaart had said; the latter informed the youthful community of what they needed to know.

Approaching the most likely haunt, Laykalar flashed a signal to Shaart, on reflex, before remembering himself and pulsing out a more structured message. "These ones are already under observation".

"You smell like someone I know". The voice, young and suspicious (though not hostile) came from nearby, but even with his hanar field of vision, Laykalar couldn't see anyone.

This Laykalar's avian companion was already aware of. His training and experience from surviving in these same conditions had honed Shaart to look for possible hideouts and people in there, and the place where the voice was coming from had the look of being occupied.

That the person was willing to give away their position indicated friendly intentions, or there were more than just one hiding around, waiting for them which would give the speaker confidence if things went awry.

"I will watch our backs. You talk with them." Shaart muttered back to the hanar, assuming his position behind Laykalar to watch its six. A wide field of vision as possible was desirable if this was an ambush, and hanar's lack of clear eyes made it difficult for him to discern how much Laykalar would see ahead of it.

Though, these were duct rats, teen and children. Surely a fully grown adult would be able to handle few of them if they decided to rush them.

Emerging from an opening Laykalar hadn't even seen were two turians and a human, all on the cusp of adolescence.

"Greetings! May this one extend its gratitude to the others for deigning to present themselves! This one assumes that the others are familiar with its person?"

"You work for that do-gooder human" said the elder turian. Her voice was suspicious. "What do you want?"

The other children seemed on edge, yet somewhat confused about it. They saw no cause for alarm, beyond the slight wariness toward outsiders that all duct rats learned to cultivate, but their leader, they could see, was behaving as though she were threatened. They knew Leaving the Ducts was an ally, and were happy to listen. Why then, was their leader showing such obvious signs of discomfort?

"What's that?" asked the human, gesturing to Shaart, perhaps reasoning that the problem was this strange alien.

"It's a raloi, ignore it" said Renexi, if it was she - and Laykalar was convinced that it was. He gestured with a tentacle to Shaart, a questioning movement that Shaart seemed to pick up on, for he nodded ever so slightly in confirmation.

"The other is Renexi Durana?" Laykalar asked softly.

A slight hesitation. "I am".

Laykalar quite literally beamed. "This one has most pleasurable news for the other! The other's father has traced the other and wishes to commence its recovery at once!"

"Does he now?" The tone she used could best be described as cold.

Laykalar wobbled, uncertain.