Facets - Chap 1

2168 CE

Apparitus, Digeris

The man’s semi-conscious body slipped from his grasp as he released him, landing with a soft thud on the alley floor.  Dakar took a deep breath and sighed, grateful that this long chase was over and his hunger finally sated.  Unfortunately, with the first rays of the morning sun peeking over the horizon, it was too late for him to travel back home using his powers.  He could already feel his access to his shadow powers disappearing:  to try to shadowwalk now would be suicidal. 

Roughly an hour to walk back, Dakar mentally calculated.  Ugh…I don’t think I can handle that trek.  Why the hell did this bastard have to run so hard?  It’s not like he did a crime worthy of death. 

Thankfully, vakar usually set up a number of safe houses around their territory for such situations and there was one not too far from his location.  I hope Elder Miroris won’t freak out too much that I didn’t come home, he thought as he set off, leaving the now unconscious man where he lay. 

The walk to the safe house wasn’t too far:  just a couple of blocks away.  As he walked, Dakar felt a sense of unease lingering about.  It wasn’t likely due to his exhaustion, no, for while taking until dawn to feed was unusual for him on its own, this was something else.  That unsettling feeling that something wasn’t right persisted, gnawing at the back of his mind until he reached the safe house.  Only then, did he finally figure it out.   

Where is everyone?  

Dakar looked around and down the street both ways.  Normally, by this time, there would be some sign of activity:  turians walking up and starting their routines.  Not this morning.  Wait, what was that rumor that’s been going around? Dakar thought, frowning.  That old anti-Hierarchy gang, the Tyranors, acting up again?   

Then, in the distance, he heard the distinctive sound of gun fire.  Just a couple of shots, but definitely gunfire.  A street war? Dakar wondered, looking down the street once more.  It would explain the lack of activity. 

Finally, he actually saw the activity he craved, on the far side of the street.  He saw a few large vehicles, figures moving back and forth between them and the residences that lined the street.  What and who they were he couldn’t make out in the still faint light, but it did seem somewhat familiar.  Seems the police are doing a raid, he thought, recalling being a part of a few said raids during his non-vakar days when he worked with the police. 

Yet even that didn’t seem to quite fit and as the vehicles came closer a nagging feeling starting building up in his gut.  Police don’t go door to door like that… he remembered.  Only…oh FUCK!  Dakar felt the color drain from his face as he realized what was going on.  Hastatim sweep! 

He didn’t like hastatim: they outright killed anyone that showed any sign of what they considered ‘resistance’.  All in the name of preventing a resistance movement from gaining traction and there was nothing vakar like him could do about it.  He wished he was back at the Sanctuary now, where he would be far out of reach of the sweep, but as luck would have it, he was about it be right smack dab in the middle of one. 

Running wasn’t an option, as it would go against his principles:  he wasn’t a threat to the Hierarchy, so he had no reason to run.  Not to mention he didn’t feel like having a few bullet holes in his back.  Hiding wouldn’t work either, as these hastatim were always thorough in their searches and hiding could be considered ‘resisting’.  Basically, Dakar didn’t feel like dying today. 

So he did the only sensible thing:  he just stood there waiting.  Cringing every time he heard gunfire.  How many turians are they killing that simply acted out of fear? Dakar thought, his chest heavy with despair.  With the time of day…sleepy confusion…Spirits.  That nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach just got worst thinking about it. Yet there was no way to distract himself otherwise, not with the squad now less than a block away.  It wasn’t long before he was noticed. 

“Citizen,” a gruff sounding male said, turning toward him.  “By order of the Primarch, you are to be transported to the safe camp.”  With how the man was pointing his assault rifle in his direction, Dakar knew this was not a request. 

How many innocents have you killed? Was the question he immediately wanted to spout out, but instead he stated the much safer, ‘yes, sir’, keeping both his hands within sight.  “Just an FYI,” he added once he was halfway to the transport: the men around him visibly tensed.  “Couple blocks down, in an alley, there’s a young man that will be acting like he had a bit too much to drink.  Chances are he’s woken up and wandered off a bit by now, but not likely very far.” 

“Why should we care?” someone said. 

“I spared him as he didn’t deserve to die,” Dakar responded flatly.  “So I’d rather he not be killed by you folks due to something he currently has no control over.” 

The hastatum around him looked confused at his wording.  Then, an older woman: the leader of this squad going by her rank insignia, laughed.  “Well now, never thought we’d catch a vakar in this sweep:  you freaks are usually deep in your dens by now.” 

Dakar felt his jaw tighten at the insult, but dare not respond in kind.  “Circumstances beyond my control, ma’dam:  even we have our bad days,” he explained. 

“Whatever.  You will not get any special treatment here.” 

“Nor do I expect any.” 

He felt the business end of a rifle poke him in the back, ‘encouraging’ him to hurry up and get on the transport.  Dakar complied, forcing himself to be satisfied with the knowledge that he did all he could to keep his feeding target alive when this group inevitably finds him.  In hindsight, he would have stayed with the man to give him an even better chance. 

Well, looks like I won’t have to wait too long to get to the safe camp, he thought, noticing that the transport was nearly full.  After taking a seat, he took a quick stock of his fellow passengers: as expected, the majority were tired looking turians of various ages.  Some were in various stages of dress, others were still fully dressed in their sleep attire.  The overall energy of the cabin was tense, with overtones of fear and anger.  A couple of children were crying softly into their parents cowls, adding to the overall negative vibe. 

“Where were you?” 

The voice was feminine and dripping with anger.  He looked across from his seat to see a middle-aged woman, her eyes rimmed with tears and burning with hate.  “Ma’am?” 

“Your kind is supposed to protect us!” she spat.  “Those bastards killed my husband for ‘resisting’ when he didn’t immediately comply with their demands!” Her voice cracked when she added.  “He was mostly deaf…he couldn’t understand them….” 

“I am sorry for your loss, ma’dam,” Dakar replied, feeling his stomach tighten at the news.  “Unfortunately, there is little we can do in situations like this:  we can’t be everywhere, after all.” 

The woman snorted.  “Varren dung!  I know you can read minds and shit, why didn’t you know this was going to happen?” 

Spirits, what rumors has she heard about us? Dakar thought, almost facepalming, but instead he rubbed a brow ridge.  “You’re confusing mind reading with clairvoyance:  an ability no vakar has.”  He held up a finger to silence her incoming protest.  “Not to mention, we can only read minds when actively feeding off someone.  Thus, we couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”  Hell, I wouldn’t have known a hastatum sweep was happening if I had made it back to the Sanctuary.  How lucky for me….   

There was more he was tempted to say, to explain more of what vakar could or could not do.  However, doing would so risk telling a non-vakar too much, especially someone that wasn’t being considered a candidate to joining them.  It became apparent that further explanation would not be needed anyway, as the fire in the woman’s eyes had faded as his words sunk in.  Tears welled up in her eyes in earnest now, before starting to fall freely as she started to sob.   

Dakar felt that sick, heavy feeling in his heart, the desire to have been there to stop the senseless slaughter.  It was, essentially, a murder, and there was nothing he or the rest of the vakar could do about it.  To act against the hastatum for doing their ‘job’, would likely make vakar public enemy #1. 

Still, he felt the need to do something to comfort her, so he reached over and laid a hand on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.  The woman looked at him through tear blurred eyes and he tried his hardest to ensure his expression was as sympathetic as possible.  He wanted to say something more, but all he could think of was what would amount to more ‘excuses’ for why vakar couldn’t do more and he didn’t want to cause her more pain. 

The woman pulled her knees up to her chest, away from his touch.  Dakar sighed and sat back in his seat, aware of the many eyes that were on him.  Closing his eyes, he could imagine the questioning and angry looks he was getting.  Perhaps one or two would be understanding, but he didn’t feel like taking stock of the different looks he was getting at this moment.  Plus he’d rather not get into another confrontation right now, as tired as he was.  Let’s try to keep a low profile from now on, shall we? 

With the way his day has been going so far already, he had a feeling that wasn’t going to be so easy.