Beruut's demeanor lifted as Milenya continued the conversation on Quarian physiology. He raised a finger and leaned forward slightly and becoming more animated, smiling in excitement.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Precisely. You see, the Quarian immune system is unique among most known species. As you note, the microbial life found on Rannoch often times were not aggressive as such life forms are in other regions of the galaxy. More often than not, these microbes would provide valuable survival benefits - uhh, creating additional oxygenation cells, filters, and so forth - and so, like much of the recorded life on Rannoch, the Quarian immune systems first response is not to repel a foreign body, its to attempt a symbiosis with it - a co-existence. Now, of course their immune system still manages the fundamental invasion repulsion, but only after its determined the microbe to be dangerous.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: YellowGreen">For eons this was only a temporary annoyance when settling new regions. They would suffer mild fits of sickness as their bodies identified the foreign microbes and determined they were hostile and repelled them. However, after the Geth uprising, their exile into the flotilla had a negative effect. It hasn't "Ruined their immune system."</span>He quoted with his fingers, then waved dismissively.<span style="color: YellowGreen">All that it has done is reduce generations of immune memory to zero. You see, on the genetic level, their immune system is programmed to not reject beneficial bacteria, but it still has the ability to fight infection, and quite well. It just reacts too late. Its been so long since their immune systems have encountered microbial life that it simply lets anything in to find out if its beneficial, often leading to mass infection before the immune system begins to react. It doesn't know what's a threat and what isn't anymore.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: YellowGreen">And <i>that's</i> the brilliance of it! You see, my colleagues and I determined to use this natural reaction to attempt to circumvent their latent immune responses. We engineered a microbe that lacks the aggressive invasion methods of most infectious bacteria. Instead, the microbe remains largely inert, that is until something attacks it. When something does attack it, be it a virus or other infectious body, it retaliates with incredible tenacity. Now, to us, the microbe is very dangerous. The moment our immune systems encounter it and attempt to eliminate it, it becomes hostile, attacking us. The Quarian immune system, however, does not try to attack the microbe when its introduced. It allows it to remain in the blood unabated. The microbe then simply exists along side the Quarian's cells until an invading bacteria triggers it, at which point it attacks the bacteria. Effectively acting in the absence of the Quarian's immune response.</span><br/><br/>He grinned broadly, looking up as he recalled the experiments and research.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Ahh... but sadly, the microbes don't live for more than a few hours - and the cultures take too long to expand to any useable volume. Its particularly valuable as an emergency medical aid for any Quarian patients, however. Both Quarians presently aboard this ship would be dead without its use...</span>He sighed and shook his head in lament.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Of course, if we had had access to the natural microbes of Rannoch, I suspect our understanding of the synthesis process would be vastly more comprehensive. Its simply part of the compounded tragedy of the Quarian's exile. We lack the material necessary to normalize the Quarian immune response - and after so many generations, even with the extensive immunization supplements we can provide, Quarians remain phobic of the unfiltered atmosphere. </span><br/><br/>He craned his head in contemplation.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Not unlike the Krogans in their own way... They, a species whose birth rates have been reduced to the average of their sentient peers continue to reduce themselves mindlessly toward extinction through endless, pointless conflict, unaware that the only thing wiping them out now is themselves. And the Quarians, so used to the confinement and safety of their suits that they refuse to simply use immunization supplements regularly to allow themselves to normalize over time outside of the suits.</span>He chuckled and rolled his eyes.<span style="color: YellowGreen">Both so stubborn, only interested in the immediate, easy answer to their tribulations.</span><br/><br/><br/>***<br/><br/><br/><span style="color: Navy">Of course.</span>Kala muttered over the comm.<span style="color: Navy">Yeah, they're down in the hold. Or they should be. Actually they should be hauling their asses up here with those crates.</span><br/><br/><br/>***<br/><br/><br/>Firas grinned slowly as Darion stepped up to Ashana's challenge. He had to admit, he enjoyed the idea of watching the human be assaulted. Sorv walked up next to Firas, and put the barrel of the mantis against the deck, then leaned on the weapon to watch. The crew all cheered and whistled at the prospect. There were more than a few crude gestures as she walked further into the hold, taking front and center while the audience gathered. One of the crew jogged to the edge of the loading ramp and yelled at the various dock workers to come see the fight.<br/><br/>Firas watched Ashana knowingly, hearing Maethia's comment.<span style="color: Blue">I'm sure they want to. I just know better.</span><br/><br/>Sorv shrugged.<span style="color: DarkOrange">I've never seen her in a fist fight, but if Firas isn't willing, then I'm not stepping up either. I'll wait for the less violent opportunity to get my hands on her. I've got enough healing wounds as it is.</span><br/><br/>Ashana stood opposite of Darion in the circle of onlookers with a wide stance. Even with the remaining discoloration on her face from the bruises, she knew she was attractive. It had been some time since she had had an audience, her every curve being examined. She had missed the thrill. She stared at Darion with a half smirk and began undoing the front of her clothing.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrchid">I'll try to be nice...</span>She taunted, sliding the seam open inch by inch to just below her breasts, revealing a V of blue skin, the swell of her breasts just visible. The cheers and hollers got louder. She reveled in the sensation. The excitement beat in her chest, pumping through her veins. She felt the tension in her, felt the quiver of anticipation in her core.<br/><br/>She clasped her hands together behind her back, stretching, pushing her chest forward, causing the material to slide a tantalizing half inch further apart, revealing more of her blue skin.<br/><br/>Darion craned his neck, his vertebrae releasing a satisfying pop. He rolled his shoulders to loosen up, then planted his leading foot, raising his arms before him, hands curled in half tight fists. Ashana knew the stance well. She had dealt with plenty of military trained fighters over her century of life to know it. It gave him a solid base, made him hard to dislodge, and from that base he could attack and defend very effectively.<br/><br/>Ashana kept on her toes, kept fluid. She had her arms half raised, lacking any conceivable style. Firas looked between the two. One, like a rock, built around effective combat training. The other, completely improvised.<br/><br/>Ashana gave Darion a mock kiss and beckoned him forward, taunting him. He smirked and moved in. He kept his base solid, his legs spaced, his shoulders square, arms up. Ashana waited, watching in anticipation, a slight spring in her feet.<br/><br/>He closed, then threw a hard right jab. Ashana's right arm was up, catching the outside edge of his. She moved forward, around the strike, pivoting to spin in behind him. But, Darion's strike lacked commitment. It was a probe.<br/><br/>As she moved around behind him, and hooked her left arm around in an effort to get her forearm under his chin, he leaned and dropped, her arm glancing across his hair while he turned, following her.<br/><br/>Ashana responded with a quick knee, rising for his head at its lower position, but Darion was ready. Her knee came up and his hand clenched, dropping down striking her leg to neutralize the hit.<br/><br/>Her leg dropped down, touched the ground, and was back up, kicking for his head as he raised back up. He bent his left arm, placing his fist near his ear, clenching and tightening its muscles, creating a wall of flesh and bone between his head and her leg. Her shin hit, and a moment after, his arm hook around it, grabbing it and holding, forcing her onto his playing field, removing her mobility, leaving her legs spread.<br/><br/>He prepared to kick out low, to knock her other leg out from under her while she couldn't do anything to prevent it. Ashana just smirked cruelly. She jumped and twisted, using the lag Darion had caught as a pivot, whipping herself around in a mid air twisting spin kick, her free leg striking out at Darion's head. He raised his other arm high enough to block, but managed it only just before her kick landed.<br/><br/>The force of the blow knocked him left, forcing him off his center of balance, stumbling him. He lost his grip of Ashana's leg and she fell forward, while he fell sideways, catching himself on an arm. She spun and pushed herself up, elegantly and quickly getting back to her feet.<br/><br/>Darion managed to stabilize himself on a knee before he saw her take a step, plant her left foot, turn and kick straight for his face with her right. His reaction was part instinct part training. He shifted his body right to get out of the kick's path, left hand reaching out to sweep her leg away. The kick was solid, and as his left hand made contact, he could hardly move it from its path.<br/><br/>But he was out of its way, her foot moving passing over his left shoulder. But his left hand was on her ankle, and he gripped it. He threw his body weight behind his right arm as he brought it around, striking her thigh with his palm, shoving her down, strike becoming grab so that he had complete control of her leg, bringing her to the ground.<br/><br/>Ashana landed, and reached down, grabbing Darion's hand on her thigh and pulling it between her legs, yanking him forward, off balance. She hooked her left leg around his arm, returning the control of her limb while simultaneously taking control of his.<br/><br/>Darion corrected, lifting a leg over hers, straddling her and bending his captured right arm, cords of muscle flexing tightening. His much higher body mass giving him far more strength than her. He pulled her across the floor as he brought his arm toward himself, his forearm buried between her legs, her groin pressed against him. He planted his captured arm on the floor, leaning over her, bearing down, left arm free.<br/><br/>Even though he still wasn't in the best position, he could land body strikes against her midsection, awkward as they may be. He hit her in the gut, and immediately, her grip of his arm released. He yanked his arm out from between her legs, freeing himself, but also freeing her.<br/><br/>Ashana pulled her legs back and planted them, curled, on his chest, and through sheer force, shoved him up and back, off of her. He was in the air for only a brief moment before he extended his legs, and caught himself. Her shove had pushed him back to his feet. He tried to seize the opportunity, to charge in and take control of her.<br/><br/>She managed to get half up, on her knee before he was back on her. An annoyed scowl crossed her face and she planted her left arm, behind her, and used her body like a wound up spring, spinning her leg up and around with incredible force and speed, faster than what she had displayed thus far.<br/>The kick came around with such speed, that Darion had no time to react. Her kick caught him across the jaw and neck. He blow dazed him, suddenly making his fight to stay standing, rather than beat his opponent.<br/><br/>Ashana sprung to her feet. She watched Darion for a moment, the playful aggression in her eyes gone. There was a fury in its place, a cruel smile. She watched his eyes, waited for the spark of recognition to return to them.<br/><br/>Firas knew the look, knew that stare. A predator watching its prey. She had been toying with him. Playing for the crowd. She was done playing, and she wanted Darion to know it.<br/><br/>He blinked, seeing her, and in that moment she moved. She struck right, then left like a viper, the blow landing, then retreating before he could take control. He pushed for an opening and she closed it, flowing around him, then striking again. Her flexibility and balance were her weapons, decades of physicality all culminating in a lethal death.<br/><br/>As Firas watched, his expression changed. Seeing her naked violence culled a memory of her on the ground, beaten, bloody, a man standing over her - virtually uninjured.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">What happened on Bekenstein...?</span>Sorv asked in a hushed whisper, visor locked squarely on her.<br/><br/><span style="color: Blue">Seconds... </span>Firas said.<span style="color: Blue">It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds that she was in there with him. </span>He watched as Ashana took a jab from Darion, evading, moving her arms around it, one grabbing while the other penetrated into the opening, striking him in the face.<span style="color: Blue"><i>Thirty seconds</i> and he took her apart. He didn't have a scratch on him, Sorv. <i>Not a scratch</i>.</span><br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrange">Shit.</span>Sorv muttered. The thought was sobering.<br/><br/>Darion landed a body shot, and she stumbled back - or appeared to. Firas watched her footwork, saw the tension in her leg through the skin tight uniform. He saw what was about to happen only a fraction of a second before it did. She whipped around. In a flash she had him down, legs locked around his neck, squeezing. She grabbed his arm as it tried to pry her thigh off him, pulling his wrist while pushing his elbow to over power his strength and digging her fingers into his flesh like talons. She grinned almost sadistically as she watched his face redden and felt his strength wane, unable to free himself as he was slowly deprived of oxygen. Firas watched and wondered how many other men had met a similar end.<br/><br/>She waited until Darion's eyes started to roll before she took a trembling breath, and reined in the desire, the ecstasy of the kill. Her expression changed, the grin faltering as she blinked and released, letting him go and standing, then straightening her outfit to give herself a moment to calm down.<br/><br/>She reached down to help Darion to his feet once he was coherent enough to stand. She patted him on the arm.<br/><br/><span style="color: DarkOrchid">Not bad. </span>She said, half panting.<span style="color: DarkOrchid">For a big guy.</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>