Work Text:
Ilira’s words buzzed in her head while she gathered her old, worn-down tools and placed them on a small square of tattered fabric.
It was the first time she had seen her friends in months; the war had kept them apart for so long that she hadn’t even known if they were still alive until right then when they appeared from behind the familiar set of shrubs they had so often used as cover. There had been no real time for a reunion, however. Instead, the phase-smith had been given an ultimatum before she even had a chance to give any sort of greeting.
“I’m getting a ship, Ri’kara; we’ve been told we have one chance to leave Slayn, leave the Tal’darim, and we’re taking it. Meet us here after sunset; if you’re not there by then… I don’t know how long we’ll be able to wait for you.”
Leaving… The idea that she might finally have a chance to escape was almost too much. She had raced back underground to prepare; already a risky move, dodging past her fellow smiths as they rushed to do the same as her. They wouldn’t have long before the Overseers tried to step in.
Finally, Ri’kara tied a knot in the cloth and picked up the bundle. With a final look around the cold, dank room, she nodded to herself.
I think I have everything.
She turned towards the door, and a long, familiar shadow cast itself over her, cutting through the bright purple mist outside. Urach ducked through the diamond-shaped arch, though he kept himself in its mouth just then. His one eye looked her up and down and rested on what she was holding before snapping back up to her face.
“And where might you be going?”
The little phase-smith almost stumbled, dropping the bundle with a too-loud clatter. Her hearts began to sink. “I-I was only… There’s a commotion outside so I thought I would… What are you doing here, master?”
“I am taking you somewhere safe. I would prefer that you didn’t pay attention to the ‘commotion’; we wouldn’t want you getting any ideas now, hm?”
Ri’kara shook, looking past him, trying to find an opening, an escape, anything that she could slip through to run from him. His hands were folded in front of him as they often were; he would be able to grab her before she could even think of darting past.
How did he even know I was going to try? Did he see us up there?
Casting her eyes to the ground, she played a little with her fingers, making her voice as meek and small as she could. “Safe?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t want my best and brightest smith trampled by the mob now, would I? Such a tiny slip of a thing would be killed within moments under someone’s heel.”
She froze as he leant forward, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face up to look at him. His cold fingers brushed against her jaw, and he had that familiar look on his face that made her skin crawl.
Impulsively, she jerked her head back, taking a step towards the wall behind her and mustering up the courage to speak without that irritating, fearful stutter that he always seemed to draw out of her.
“I don’t need you; I’ll survive just fine.”
That hand hung mid-air as he regarded her with an amused curiosity. His fingers carefully curled into his palm, and he drew it back. “What was that?”
“I have friends on the surface. They’re taking me with them; I’ll be safe. I don’t… I don’t need you, Urach. Not anymore.”
For a moment, he tilted his head, that same patronising expression in that one bright eye. Then, he laughed, causing her to jump slightly, press herself against the cold stone. It was cruel, mocking, punctuated with a shrug and a dismissive wave of a hand.
“Arrogance doesn’t suit you, dear.”
The little phase-smith blinked at the edge he put to his tone despite the laugh. Her eyes flickered for a moment to his whip’s handle; he liked to keep it next to his knives so she was always guessing at which he would use first.
“As though they truly want to take you with them. Come now, they’re blood, aren’t they? Rare for us that we know our families; their first priority will always be each other, and they probably only decided to take you out of pity.” He stepped forward, backing her further into the corner. His voice became softer, quieter, his brow upturning in feigned concern. “Haven’t I always made you my first priority, Ri’kara? None but you receive such undivided attention.”
For a moment, she wavered again. Part of her knew, deep down, that he might be correct. They were sisters, after all, they were always going to stick together. She was an accessory; someone they had decided to let tag along for… whatever reason. She had never known why.
Still, she shook her head; she knew what his ‘undivided attention’ entailed, knew what it would bloom into should she be trapped here. “No… They wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t want to save me too.”
“But will they really want a runt after all is said and done? And what could you offer the Templar, truly?” Urach chuckled, shaking his head. “Little useful. The only place you will ever be considered an asset is with me; you should know that by now.”
There was no retort that she could think of for that; without his protection, who knows where she could have ended up? Her hands balled into fists. But even if she was useless… Wasn’t she allowed a chance? Out in the dark, among the sparse shrubbery and the harsh grit, Ilira had told anyone who would listen that they deserved more than this. Maybe she did too.
He seemed to take her silence as agreement, stepping closer. His knives clinked on his belt, drawing an odd attention to themselves. “Now stop with this ridiculous tantrum. As I have said, I have the others safe away from all the madness outside; you will come with me.”
Like a flash, he moved to grab her wrist, the pretense of gentle handling gone in the moment he thought he had her. Quicker than she had thought she was able, Ri’kara grabbed one of the knives as he jerked forward, cutting her hand on the blade as she did, and shoved herself into him, embedding it into his abdomen.
They both froze. She couldn’t help but look up at his face; shock passed over his rough features and slowly, a wet warmth began to trickle down her wrists. The thud of the first drop hit the metal floor too loudly.
It was like her nightmares, just like them.
She had to just be dreaming.
That one thought caught hold of her and suddenly the shock was instead that rage that always fueled those fantasies. Yes, it was a dream; she only ever did this in dreams.
Why should she stop?
Ri’kara pulled the knife out and threw herself at him. That small window of surprise was perfect; he didn’t even quite register what was happening until they were both on the floor and she was tearing into him. She pulled at the catch on his metal collar and discarded it so she could tug the thick fabric of his robes down to reveal the skin-tight layer underneath, giving her weapon a better entryway. She couldn’t help but laugh at how easy it was to use what he had taught her against him, a bitter sound rising just above his yelling.
Urach struggled under her, trying to push her off, trying to wrestle the knife from her hands as she plunged it into him over and over again. As in every dream, he underestimated how strong she actually was; everybody always did. She couldn’t help but laugh again when his eye shut tight with the pain.
“No you don’t, you coward. Fucking look at me, Urach!”
She grabbed his jaw and made him instead, leaning her own face as close as she could to his.
“I want this runt to be the last thing you ever see.” The phase-smith punctuated that word with another quick stab in his chest, twisting the knife and watching him contort. His strangled cry of pain was far-off, muffled somehow. She kept a hold of him and twisted again, watching the light drain from his eye.
Then, he was limp against the grimy metal floor. His arms dropped uselessly, outstretched either side of his bloodied body. It was over.
The silence was suddenly loud. It thundered in her head to the sporadic rhythm of her panicked heartbeat as the rage subsided. Her hands shook, the tremble snaking its way up her arms, across her whole body as she tried to stand from where she was knelt over him. Warm blood covered her, dark ink that stained their clothes and pooled below them, glistening in the half-light of the candles that were still lit.
For a moment, Ri’kara expected to wake up, expected to jolt to attention on the metal slab that was her bed and find him stood at the entrance, demanding that she get up and follow him to wherever he wanted her to go.
But it didn’t happen.
It wasn’t a dream.
His one good eye stared at her; disbelief and fear still so palpable even in its dull lifelessness. It was almost as if he was watching her.
Murderer.
Her hearts almost stopped as she swore for just a moment that his hand twitched. The sudden fear that he would get up, that he might try to trap her again and punish her for what she had done, gripped her and she bolted, still clutching the knife.
Outside her little hovel, along the walkways above the smoky pit below, phase-smiths were doing the same as her; trying to escape, fighting off the overseers who were pulling them back and trying to keep them there. The usual sharp smell of Terrazine made her head pound, causing the psionic noise around her to stab into her skull.
I have to get to them; I don’t want to be left here.
Clinging to that one, desperate thought through the painful fog, Ri’kara tried to keep herself as small as she always had, pressing herself against walls as though she could somehow merge with the stone.
A fellow phase-smith fell beside her, a psionic scream pulled from them as they were wrapped in the red glow of an overseer’s whip, flesh sizzling against the white-hot thread of energy. They reached out to her as they were dragged; she didn’t dare glance back again.
Up the stairs, down another narrow, dimly lit corridor, ducking through the desperate throng as they were trampled and beaten by their masters. Nobody paid her any mind as she hid herself in an alcove and scuttled into a narrow little tunnel. The ventilation shafts that circulated dusty, stale air from the surface to the underground weren’t big enough for most Protoss to get through, but they were perfect for her. The tunnel led her through the wall between two corridors; she had to take care not to cut herself on the jagged part of a metal grate that she had long since sliced away.
Once out of the tunnel, she felt that familiar hand around her wrist, her head snapping up to look into the fury of Urach’s one dead eye. Blood still poured from the wounds that made gaping holes in his chest.
Then she blinked.
Someone different entirely yelling at her, whip casting its bright red glow across the high, ridged cheekbones that framed deep amber coloured eyes filled with fear and fury.
Without thinking, Ri’kara lunged, stabbing the hand that held her captive and bolting as soon as she felt that grip loosen.
Diving around a corner, she picked up the pace, cursing how much of a maze the complex was, how quickly every passageway could be filled with everyone that had ever lived down here in that one moment of panic. She popped out another vent and scrambled through it. Thankfully, the next corridor was almost empty save for a body slumped against the wall at an intersection up ahead; an overseer. The sight only increased her panic and for a moment Urach was staring at her.
Ri’kara couldn’t help but stop then. She blinked, and the body became normal, lifeless all over again.
It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t.
It took a moment, but she gave herself a shake, turning yet another corner and slipping into another almost pitch-black alcove. The vent here lead up to the surface, though she’d taken care to leave the grating on this one as a precaution. More of that harsh but sweet Terrazine smell drifted down directly from the outside, and her face scrunched slightly, the pounding in her head increasing.
Still, she knew it was the best way out. With a check to be sure she wasn’t followed, she crawled in, turning herself to pull the grate back into place. The vent was vertical after a short upwards curve, but she had hollowed out footholds in the metal as best she could a long time ago.
Not that far now.
Finally, she slammed her bloodied fists against the grate above and yanked herself up into the purple-tinged night.
All the energy that she had left was suddenly drained from her, her body too quick to think that maybe she was finally in relative safety. Mechanically, she started to pull herself forward; Ilira had told her to meet them exactly where they always did. She just had to get there.
“Just… can’t we wait a few more moments, Ilira, please. We can’t leave her here!”
“We need to go. I want to take her, but you know I need to make sure you’re safe.”
Ri’kara could hear them; they hadn’t bothered to keep their conversation private. Without the energy to truly speak, she reached out to them with her mind, trying to at least be as loud as she could where she hadn’t the words.
“Wait, hold on—” Uljia was the first to notice, rushing out from behind some sparse bushes and thankfully catching sight of her. “’Kara?”
Ilira followed, brow furrowing with confusion. “What happened? Why the fuck are you covered in blood?!”
Behind them, the sight of a tarnished black, brass, and silver of a small, rounded spacecraft made her legs buckle with relief. The ship was there. It was there. Uljia caught her as she fell, shifted her grip to her wrists, tried to get her to look into her wide, questioning eyes.
With a jerk, Ri’kara pulled away from her, panic fluttering in her chest all over again, but Ilira was there, ready to catch from behind as she slipped backwards and properly toppled into the dirt.
It was only then that she broke down, eyes filling with tears as she began to sob, bringing her hands up to her face and smearing more of the drying blood onto it. Ilira’s hands were warm, surprisingly gentle. Safe. She was safe.
Quickly, carefully, they took the knife from her, pulled her onto the ship and tucked her into a small corner so she could ball herself up and try to calm down. Ilira let go almost immediately, leaving her to Uljia so she could start to prepare for takeoff. She wasn’t one for outbursts.
“What happened, ‘Kara? Whose blood is that?” Uljia spoke as gently as she could, crouched beside her.
“He… I…” Finally, she was able to speak, beginning to tremble again. “I killed him. I killed him.”
Her companion’s face twisted with sympathy. “Urach?”
She nodded, shutting her eyes tightly as the whole thing played again in her head in horrible, panic-filled flashes. “He… Tried to keep me there. He tried to grab me again and… He looked so surprised.”
The image of his eye boring into her, even in death, made her draw into herself more, tears once again pricking at her eyes. “I should have let him keep me there, I—”
“Hey, Ri’kara, look at me.” Uljia’s voice became more urgent, just enough that the phase-smith couldn’t help but open her eyes again to look at her, grounding her back on the ship. “You’re safe. You did what you had to do. Don’t ever say that. We would have waited for you, ok?”
“We’re ready to go. Uljia, I need you over here.”
“Ilira—”
“We need to go before he changes his fucking mind. We can deal with this when we’re off this rock.”
“Alright, alright.” Uljia gave Ri’kara’s hand a small squeeze. “I need you to try and make sure nothing breaks, ok, ‘Kara?”
She nodded, trying to keep a hold of herself as the two sisters got them into the air.
Pull yourself together. It’s the least you can do after all the trouble you’ve just given them.
Heaving herself from her corner, she took an old, discarded uniform from close by and wiped off what blood she could as Urach’s words rattled in her skull. He was right, of course; she heard what they were saying just before they noticed her.
They wouldn’t have waited… She was just trying to make me feel better.
Carefully, as the ship began to ascend, she shimmied into the narrow section below the deck through a small hatch. At the very least she could try to make up for her outburst by being useful; they wouldn’t regret taking her then.
The ship was a light combat vessel. She recognised it; fashioned after a scouting craft usually found in a Templar fleet, something she had pulled apart and put back together more times than she could count. Most phase-smiths would have had to crouch in this small passageway, but she was able to half-stand, bending herself slightly to avoid the ceiling.
Scanning the wires and tarnished panels for anything amiss brought up nothing in particular. That was good; despite the tight space, the familiarity of it comforted her somewhat, and the task to focus on brought her out of her own head.
She had no tools, but that was fine; there were always at least a few left in the small slots in the ceiling above. Her fingers gently brushed the grooves and, luckily, found one such instrument. Carefully, she pulled it out, wincing as the pain of her sliced palm finally made itself known.
“Damned thing…”
Finally, Ri’kara lay on her side, deciding to stay there and look over the systems out of the way of the two above deck, even as the shaking of the climbing craft and the extra shudder as it finally left the atmosphere caused her hearts to hammer all over again.
So long as she could be useful, she would be able to prove that they had made the right decision.