“... looks like they’re buying it.”

As their captured shuttle approached the smuggler’s vessel Saracen, the biggest problem facing them was communications. Without better information, the moment they tried radioing the other ship, their cover would be immediately blown. Considering said ship was well armed, that presented them with something of a dilemma: how to dock without getting shot full of holes.

So they shut down comms completely, relying instead on their emergency lights to send the ship a signal using Morse Code. As Taneka observed their approach, she spotted no obvious signs their ruse had failed. Easily decoding Saracen’s response to their hails, she nodded in confirmation of their message. “They’ve cleared us to dock,” she informed the others, before glancing over at Samara. “You’re up,” she told the Protean.

Rising to her feet, Samara nodded at the others before exiting the compartment. Samara wasn’t in the driver’s seat at the moment, hence the curt response to Taneka’s message. Which was fine, as far as the Corsair captain was concerned. The Protean’s box of Precursor Avatars gave her the creeps, especially when they manipulated her flesh like a sock puppet.

Arriving at the airlock moments later, Samara was already busy prepping for the mission when Genvass poked his head in. “You got a minute?” he asked her.

“... Your timing is ill-chosen,” the Cognate apprised him. “It would be best if we postponed this conversation until after the mission.”

“It can’t wait,” the ambassador argued, “and I would prefer to speak with Samara directly instead of going through you. No offense.”

The cognate regarded him coolly for a moment, and then with a shrug abruptly transformed. There was no physical difference that he could see, but everything else about her had changed. She gave herself a full body shake, then sighed and shook her head. “This really is a bad time, Genvass,” she told him. “You sure it can’t wait until after?”

“I’m sure,” he said tersely. “With all the skills at your disposal, Samara, there must be some way to avoid killing Saracen’s crew,” the ambassador argued.

“Not without putting myself at risk,” she told him. “Sorry.”

“What risk?” he demanded. “Aren’t you impervious to pretty much everything?”

“I may be hard to kill,” she replied, “but that’s not the same as ‘impossible’. Sure, I could try knocking out the crew instead of killing them, but if I give them time to regroup, the odds of my survival go down rather drastically. So no, I can’t help you.”

“Can’t you gas them or something?” he pled with her. “You did that to Gyrfalcon’s crew, didn’t you?”

“Different situations entirely,” Samara said patiently. “In that case, I had access to engineering and enough time to activate the ship’s hijacking protocols. Unfortunately, this is a boarding action, which means I won’t have the same access until I’ve fought my way through the entire ship.” She gave him a sad, bittersweet smile, placing her hand on his. “I respect what you’re trying to do, and if there was a tactic I could use to make it happen, I would, but there isn’t… which means doing this the hard way.” She shook her head once more. “And our time is up. We’ll talk after, Genvass,” she promised him, shifting yet again as the cognate took over.

The ambassador stared at her. “So even after all these years, after everything, you’re still just a killer,” he said scathingly.

Samara froze. “What did you just say?” she responded in her natural voice, though it sounded almost preternaturally calm.

“You heard me,” Genvass said coldly. “I thought maybe you’d changed, that after all these years you’d finally realized there were other ways to accomplish your goals besides, ‘Kill them all, let Mother Terra sort them out’.” His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “I see now that I was wrong.”

She stood there, with her back to him, not moving, a stillness washing over her that was both impressive and disturbing in equal measure. The Protean slowly turned to face him, her eyes now dark and pitiless. “If it wasn’t for my ‘gifts’, we wouldn’t have New Terra, and as for you, you would likely be dead,” she hissed. “So how about some goddamn gratitude, and a little less shaming on your part? Is that fucking possible?” she snarled.

He’d never seen her like this before, never actually witnessed for himself the predator that lived inside of her, and the look in her eyes as she stared menacingly in his direction flat-out terrified him. But instead of running for the nearest exit, Genvass took a deep breath, and stood his ground.

“It doesn’t have to be like this Samara,” he said evenly. “You have a choice. Let them live.” He paused for a moment, and then added in a quiet voice, “... please.”

His eyes went wide as she closed the distance between them faster than should have been possible, before grabbing him by the throat and yanking him off his feet. “You smug little shit,” she seethed, “it must be so easy for you, watching from the sidelines while the rest of us fight and scrape to survive. You’re nothing but a pampered pooch, getting snippy if your doggie treats and scritches fall behind schedule. Who the hell are you to judge me?”

“... gack,” he got out as he started losing consciousness, her vice-like grip choking off his air. He struggled in her grasp, his own hands clawing desperately at hers, his legs kicking like a man being hung.

Suddenly he was on the deck, coughing and wheezing as his lungs sucked in life-giving oxygen once more. Genvass stared up at her as she loomed over him, her fists balled tight with rage. “... did I strike a nerve?” he gasped, massaging his bruised throat as he struggled to breathe.

A horrifying grin appeared on her face, the slasher smile of a madman. “Let me show you a little trick I know about what you can do to nerves,” she cooed, bending down to grab hold of him once more… only for her to abruptly freeze in place, and slowly stand back up and step away.

“I am afraid that Samara has allowed her emotions to cloud her judgment,” the cognate stated. “I apologize for not stepping in sooner.”

“That’s… all right,” Genvass exhaled. “Guardian, I presume?”

“That is correct,” Guardian nodded. “Under normal circumstances, Samara and I have an agreement that neither I nor the other cognates take control unless she requests us to do so. In this instance, however, I was concerned that given her emotional state, she might do something rash. That would be regrettable for all concerned, so I stepped in and took control of her motor functions until such time that she might calm herself.”

The ambassador managed an ironic chuckle. “And how’s that going, I might ask?”

The Ancient Avatar sighed. “Currently, she is hurling every insult and invective she knows at me and my brethren. I imagine it will be some time before she… ‘Runs out of steam’, I believe is the saying.” He gave him a very human-like shrug.

“Sounds like Samara, all right,” Genvass agreed, before eyeing the Precursor more closely. “What about you?” he asked. “Where do you stand regarding showing mercy to Saracen’s crew?”

The cognate currently in charge of her body cocked her head, considering the question. “In fact, I am favorably disposed to your suggestion, though Samara’s argument regarding the practicality of such a tactic remains valid. She has subjected her anatomy to serious damage on many occasions, damage that would have ended her existence many times over. Were it not for the precautions we have taken to preserve and extend her life, she would have succumbed to her injuries years ago.”

“Obviously, I don’t want her to risk her life… well, any more than she’s risking it already,” he amended. “But there must be some way to thread the needle, to find a middle ground between her death and the wholesale slaughter of innocents. There has to be,” he argued with fervor.

Guardian paused, an odd expression on his/her/their face. “While one could argue whether the term ‘Innocents’ is applicable in this instance, I have just now discussed the matter with Cherdor Hosk,” they explained, “the cognate normally tasked with combat of this nature. They concede your request may be possible, though until they can view the tactical situation first hand, they cannot state that with any certainty.” He shrugged once more. “They do, however, agree to try.”

“... Thank you,” Genvass said quietly. “That’s all I can ask.”

Samara/Guardian/Cherdor Hosk stood in the airlock as the shuttle docked with Saracen. The cognate checked their weapons as they waited for the hatch to open, while a heated argument raged within their shared psyche.

I swear to Terra I’ll drop your fucking Repository into the first star I find, Samara seethed. How dare you just take control of me like that! We had a deal!

… We still do, Guardian countered. However, the Ambassador makes a valid point. He was not suggesting you place yourself at any further risk, merely that you consider not terminating the crew If It Can Be Done Safely. That is all. I fail to grasp your issue with this.

Because I don’t answer to the Ambassador, or anyone else! No one tells me how to complete a mission! she fired back, least of all you.

… You seem to be operating under a false set of assumptions, Samara, Guardian cautioned. While this is indeed a partnership, we, not you, are its senior member. Obviously. We initiated the bond between us, and given recent events, I believe the time has come to end it. Once the current crisis is over, we will sever the connections between us and choose a new host.

What? What the hell are you talking about? Samara demanded. You can’t do that!

… In fact, I can, Guardian replied. You knew that one day our association would end. We discussed this long before you ever set foot on Threshold.

I thought you meant when I died or something, she sulked. Look, you don’t have to do this. This was all just a big misunderstanding. There’s no need to take such drastic action. Can’t we at least discuss it? Samara wheedled.

… I thought by now you would realize we are immune to flattery or emotional appeals, Guardian said calmly. The decision has been made.

The airlock door slid open, revealing a trio of waiting Corsairs. They blinked in surprise as they spotted Samara/Guardian/Cherdor Hosk on the other side, as they were obviously expecting a more familiar face. Unfortunately for them, that was all the reaction they could muster before Cherdor Hosk lunged forward, sweeping the leg of their first victim while adding a savage blow to their temple as they fell, effectively taking them out of the picture. One of the others started to turn, most likely to warn the rest of the crew, only they never got the chance. A vicious strike to their neck overwhelmed the vagus nerve, dropping them like a stone.

The third smuggler slowly backed away, waving their arms frantically. “Terra, no!” they pleaded, but the cognate wasn’t interested in conversation. A stiff-armed blow to their solar plexus doubled them over, leaving them vulnerable to a follow-up attack. In less than five seconds, all three were incapacitated. Grabbing them by their collars, Hosk dragged them through the airlock and deposited them on the other side. “Secure them,” they ordered, while Rúna and the others scrambled to comply.

… As you can see, it is possible to complete the mission while avoiding unnecessary casualties, Guardian said pointedly.

The mission isn’t over yet, Samara snapped. Besides, you want to have this conversation now?

… Cherdor Hosk has the situation well in hand, Guardian observed, and does not require assistance from either of us. Now is as good a time as any to have this discussion, which, quite frankly, is long overdue.

I don’t know what’s put a bee in your bonnet all of a sudden, she said, but severing our connection over a minor disagreement…

… It is not that, Guardian interrupted, or at least, it is not solely that. Do you recall the conversation we had prior to your rescue of the Avatar, Alphad Aemon? Specifically, why we were initially unwilling to summon Cherdor Hosk?

You said switching out cognates like that could damage my neural synapses, Samara answered, only now I’m starting to think that’s a lie.

While they spoke, Cherdor Hosk entered the ship proper, searching for the rest of the crew. They moved quickly and methodically, disabling what crew they could, while silently dispatching those they could not.

.. It is not precisely a lie, Guardian disagreed, though you might consider it a lie of omission. Since we have joined, how many times have you been injured?

I don’t know, Samara said honestly. I stopped keeping track.

… While I could tell you precisely the number and extent of the injuries you have received during our tenure, each repair we performed came at a cost. Those injuries put you under considerable strain, the reconstruction even more so. I am afraid those same stresses are cumulative, and we are rapidly reaching the point where our efforts will not be enough to sustain you.

Wait a minute… you’re saying that if you don’t sever the connection, I’ll die? she said in shock.

… Everyone dies, the cognate reminded her. Even us, eventually, though it will be many long eons from now. But to answer your question, if we do not terminate the connection soon, it will be too late. The end will come swiftly for you, and it will not be pleasant. If, however, we sever the connection prior to that outcome, we can preserve your life, and return your body to its original state.

My “original state” was a goddamn nightmare, Samara snapped. If you’re planning on leaving me as a cripple, I’d rather you just let me die like I am now. At least let me have some fucking dignity.

By this time, Cherdor Hosk had reached the bridge, quickly overwhelming the defenders. They had thought they were ready for anything, but then they hadn’t met anyone like the cognate warrior. With the ship’s nerve center now secured, they headed aft towards engineering.

… I promise you, we will not leave you incapacitated, Guardian vowed. You will be healthy, as healthy as we can make you, though I regret to say it will require some adjustment on your part. Many of the abilities gifted to you by your clan will be removed as well, including the ability to alter your form at will.

What? Samara shrieked. You can’t do that! You have no right!

… Samara, Guardian sighed, your Clan was not as clever as they believed. Many of the alterations made to your genome were unstable and would have eventually killed you. We can repair the damage, but not while preserving your shapeshifting ability. I am sorry.

She was silent for some time, digesting that while Cherdor Hosk finished securing the ship. It had not been entirely bloodless, but the body count was far lower than she’d considered possible.

So when you leave… I’ll be nothing, she said quietly. Just another civilian, a face in the crowd. No one special. Unremarkable. Useless.

… Forgotten.

The very thought of it was soul-crushing.

… At the risk of inflaming your not-inconsiderable ego, Guardian chuckled, I rather doubt anyone could ever forget you.

… I’m not sure I can do this, Guardian, she whispered. I’m… scared. I don’t think I can handle being alone.

With Saracen now secured, Cherdor Hosk returned to the shuttle, where the others stood anxiously waiting. “It is done,” he informed the others. “There are prisoners who should be placed into custody.”

As they scrambled to comply, Guardian pointed her body toward the group, her eyes going to each of them in turn.

… Samara, you were never alone, Guardian said softly.