The next morning, Nihlus gets up early to prepare breakfast. The weather outside is still terrible. The storm had lessened during the night, but by the time he got back in bed, it had picked up again, accompanied by a fresh chorus of ferocious howls. Now, hard clumps of snow are smacking against the window like the wind’s percussive accompaniment. He swirls the leftover tequila and drains it in one gulp, setting the flask on the table with a loud thunk. There.
Continue reading [57]Category: Misfire Fills
[56]
“You became aware of us when we discovered the mass relays,” Saren ventured.
There was no response.
“When Aluxil Kasran harnessed the power of nuclear fusion?”
“When aircraft were invented?”
“Surely, it could not have been when … when ancient turians carved the Tablets of Measure?” He said in disbelief, choking on a nervous, stillborn laugh.
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He followed the faint smell of smoke to a stall near the edge of the market, sandwiched between an asari confectionery and a hanar diner. The place looked clean, freshly renovated, with spotless white tiles and clear glass tanks, not a speck of mold in sight. A neon orange sign hung over the storefront, some of the letters flickering once in a while. It was supposed to be artistic, he figured. The glass seemed to be hand-blown, and a permit on the Presidium was much too expensive for such oversights.
The woman behind the counter stood up when he approached. “What’ll it be?”
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“So that’s how I ended up next to the Veil.”
Saren pauses, the cryo-pack in his hands whole for now. “The Perseus Veil.”
“Yeah. Right at the borderline.”
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“What do you mean,” Saren said, spitting out the syllables, “‘you can’t read it’?”
“I’ve never seen this radical before.” And Nihlus pointed to a symbol that resembled a backwards ‘orn’ with two extra strokes thrown in. “Does that say ‘lorn’?”
Evidently, it did not. Saren’s mandibles actually went slack for a second. Maybe in shock. But the subsequent tucking was fury. Definitely fury.
“You’re illiterate.”
“I think I handled that last report just fine, thank –“
“You can’t read the preface of Service without a translator?”
“I never had to read the preface of Service without a translator,” he hissed back.
Saren shook his head. “Fine. We’ll start with a translator.”
“Sorry, I didn’t load ‘ye olde bird-tongue’ on mine.”
Saren looked like he was about to pick up the substantial tome and break his spine with it.
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Saren yawned. “Not likely. Go to sleep.”
Brushing aside the soft command like so much Armali silk, Nihlus propped himself up on his elbows. “But it’s possible.”
Saren didn’t answer.
“It is, isn’t it?” he muttered. “Let me guess. It’s going to take a miracle.”
The fold-out cot creaked when Saren finally turned to face him, catching his eyes. “Statistically speaking.”
“Oh yeah? What are those statistics telling you?”
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