Admiral Daro&#39;Xen vas Moreh

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This is Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh of the quarian Migrant Fleet, requesting immediate assistance.

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Are you okay?

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[A sigh of disappointment, even through the mask. :c]

I was hoping my people - or our allies - may receive this message. I have no intention of remaining imprisoned against my will for longer than circumstances permit.

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I'm probably the billionth person to tell you this, but even if they get your message and come for you, you won't be free for long. The Admiral hunts down everyone who makes a break for it.

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Whatever the Admiral is, they've demonstrated great incompetence, thus far. I wouldn't give them favourable odds against the fleet... Besides which, even if they're aware of my situation, it's at least something.

I should be allowed a method to communicate with my people, but even this basic right seems denied to me...

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It makes sense. What if the people you knew back home influenced you to do the things that brought you here? It could be a major setback if you could speak with them whenever you want.

[If she could've called Jacques or Leo whenever she pleased, Laura herself might have taken a lot longer to graduate.]

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They know perfectly well of what's in my personnel file... Not everyone agrees with my methodology, but I get results. Instead, I find myself abducted for a mere difference of opinion.

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[...]

No offense, but most people that blasé about ends justifying means do need to be here.

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Not when the results are a necessity for your species' survival.

[Xen might be wearing a translucent visor, but those glowing white eyes can be seen to narrow.]

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I don't know what your means or end were, but I know that there's almost always another way. If you got results with your method, you could have tried adjusting it to be less...inmate-worthy.

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This alleged need I have for 'compassion' and 'empathy' has no place in the serious study of synthetics. The entire galaxy is burning and I'm imprisoned here, where I can contribute nothing!

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If you're an inmate, then your contributions don't outweigh the things you did to achieve them.

I tutored people in English and special needs. I started a program to feed elderly and disabled people who couldn't leave their homes. I was practically the queen of charity work, and last time I was here, I was an inmate anyway. And I deserved to be, because my good acts didn't erase all of the terrible shit I did when their backs were turned.

You're here because you need help, and it's not of the "getting off the ship" variety.

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If the owner of this vessel truly wished to help, they would be abducting the things slowly erasing every form of sentient life from existence - your homeworld included. Instead, your employer sees fit to stand idly by, allowing entire civilisations to be outright destroyed or transformed into enslaved, cybernetic monstrosities...

I will not have my professional ethics questioned by a dimension-jumping hypocrite, who possesses the means to save trillions, yet refuses to intervene.

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Has the Admiral picked up any of the other people trying to help and made them inmates...or just you?

[Yes, she is making a point: Xen isn't here for trying to "help."]

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If you're trying to infer I've undertaken criminal activities...

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What are your coordinates, Admiral? I will inform the Commander immediately.

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Ah, succ-!

[A pause... Xen has a bad feeling about this.]

Which Commander...?

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Commander Shepard of the Normandy.

Edited Date: 2012-11-09 07:28 am (UTC)

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[FML...

OK, no. Xen can deal with this. If anyone wants to launch a potentially suicidal mission on her behalf, it might as well be someone with a marginal track record of success.]

I see... I'm afraid I'm unable to give spatial co-ordinates. As best as I can tell, I've been transported to a form of... Transdimensional prison ship. No Reaper influence I'm aware of, but the entire thing could be a prolonged psychological warfare exercise.

I'm transmitting as much locational data as I've been able to gather... With luck, either you or my fleet can somehow use it to home in on the source of this transmission.

[A pause, because... Has it really been this long since she left? Or is it all a trick? Or does time move differently?]

Is the battle near Earth on-going or... Has the conflict been resolved?

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Analyzing.

The conflict continues. They have launched attacks on Earth, Palaven, and several locations throughout the galaxy.

[Confused pause.] Admiral, I do not understand how we are communicating. As far as I am able to discern, the data you sent me does not exist in any known database in the galaxy. Your transmission's signal, strangely without firewalls, becomes static and I cannot read it further. This is peculiar.

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I...

[Hmm, perhaps it's better not to know. Besides, the signal analysis is of more immediate importance. Xen typing things into her omni-tool, now that she knows this.]

Interesting... I assume you're scanning for what's known of Reaper encryption, which only makes this more troubling... Keelah.

[This is where Xen decides to transmit a series of alpha-numeric codes the quarians would understand, to verify her identity.]

Please relay that to the Migrant Fleet, along with a record of this video transmission. If nothing else, they need to be aware of my situation. I...

[Xen needs a moment.]

May have to resort to extreme measures to secure my release. The vessel's owner claims no link with Reaper forces, but if this technology were to find its way to them... To target key personnel within a ship and abduct them at will... I'm sure I don't need to exaggerate how catastrophic that would be.

Or how it could turn the tide of this war if we procure it.

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