Atlas had announced a successful excavation which meant the inmates got to eat. After a guard went up the freight elevator, the same guard came down with a barrel of the inmates’ dinner for someone to heat up. The inmate who did the cooking was a man of large girth dubbed Tank. Morrigan could not understand how a man could be as large as him while working down in the tunnels but she did not judge. At six foot six and over 300 pounds, the man was one of the kindest inmates in the warren.
Morrigan stood in line for what could only be described as a giant cauldron, as Tank heated their slop of a meal up. With a large scoop of his ladle, Tank poured Morrigan’s wooden bowl to the brim and handed her the small packet of crackers they were given. Before she could move he reached forward and stuck a piece of dried Scissor bug meat into the slop and gave her a wink.
Tank did not speak, whether because he was a mute or if something that happened in his past life she did not know. She gave him a tight smile, still grossed out by the prisoners’ love of the insect meat but she could not deny that in comparison to their other options, it was good. “Thanks Tank,” she said before stepping back to find her place to eat. Tank gave her a kind smile and clapped his hand to his chest in his own way of saying ‘you’re welcome’.
Morrigan moseyed around the ‘common area' of the central warren. The central warren was essentially one massive cave that intersected all the various tunnels and was used as a congregation spot as well as the dumping point for the Viridian hauls. Throughout the area inmates lounged around as they ate or found themselves sitting at one of the few cheap plastic tables where they could gamble away their accrued goods.
Morrigan found two inmates sitting at one of the gambling tables, possibly the only two inmates she could consider friends, roaring with laughter over a joke she did not hear. One was an older black man named Henry who had to be within his mid to late 50s. The center of his head having lost its hair leaving salt and pepper curly hair trailing up the sides and back of his head. The other was another inmate everyone called Pops, who was even older than Henry. He was Morrigan’s size to her surprise and had a large, dirty bushy beard the length of his torso and a charming southern drawl. The two men were essentially best of friends and welcomed Morrigan into their fold without rhyme nor reason other than being overly kind gentlemen within a penal mining colony.
“Well look who it tis, our own lil’ bundle o’ sunshine,” Pops called out as Morrigan set her bowl on the table and took her seat in one of the flimsy plastic chairs. She could not help but smile at the old man's cheerful demeanor.
Henry chuckled as he slapped a set of playing cards down on the table, “Pops, there ain’t nothin shiny about her I mean look at the poor lady.” He took a moment before nudging her arm, “now don’t get me wrong, yer a peach to have around but we live in a mine. Ain’t no sunshine down here at all,” he said giving her a kind, joking smile.
And here we have two pervy geezers stalking their prey, but little did they know, that the meek little girl was actually a bloody thirsty creature spawned from the recesses of their darkest nightmares, Apollyon joked as if it were narrating a nature documentary.
Morrigan smirked at the commentary, shifting to reach for the hardtack she had stored against her chest. Pops cackled before glancing between his empty bowl and her overfilled bowl of food. “Don’tcha be tryin’ to be charmin the young missy ya hear?” he drawled as his hand slowly slide closer to the small package of crackers that sat next to her bowl.
She noticed his antics and gave his hand a playful slap. “Oh dammit! I was so close too!” he howled in laughter as he retracted his hand.
She cracked a smile, “you guys are nuts you know that?” she chuckled as she pulled the package out of her shirt. Henry leaned back in laughter at the playful display before he tossed a card into the pile.
“To be fair, yous kind of has to be to survive down here, but what the hell you tryin to steal from Mori anyhow old man?” Henry asked pointedly at Pops as if he had committed a grievous crime.
As Morrigan unwrapped part of the hardtack she found to thick sheets of dense bread, kind of like a thick biscuit or cookie and snapped off a small piece. She gave it a sniff as she listened to her friends' banter back and forth. The hardtack did not smell like much, and as she stuck the small piece in her mouth she was greeted with a buttery taste that reminded her of heaven. She broke of a quarter of one of the squares before wrapping it back up and stuffing it back into her shirt. That was definitely something she was going to have to savor.
Henry took notice of what she was doing, asking curiously, “whatcha got there Mori?”
As she savored the flavor of her initial bite, she swallowed the dissolving piece of bread, “hardtack I got from Atlas,” she said. Her hand gently covered the chunk as she grabbed her wooden spoon and stuck it into the concoction of grey pasty grain and flavorless protein in her bowl. It was the only main food the prisoners received and it was as appealing as it was flavorful. Morrigan eyed the dried piece of bug meat and pinched it with her fingers and lifted it out of the slop to set on top of her package of crackers.
Both Henry and Pops watched her before giving each other looks of disbelief. “Now how did you manage to get hardtack from Atlas?” Henry asked. Meanwhile Pops eyed the strip of bug meat like a starved dog.
Morrigan chuckles as she shoved a spoonful of her dish into her mouth, “it was his way to convince me stop antagonizing Taskmaster Jared,” she explained with her mouth full, a smile creeping up on her face.
“Damn woman. Hardtack, extra slop an bug meat, you jus’ got everyone wrapped aroun’ those fingers of yers don’cha?”
You know, back in my day, we called that prostitution, but the young whipper-snappers call it bribery nowadays, Apollyon said in an over-forced, strained tone to mimic old age at the same time Henry spoke.
She clasped her hand over her mouth as she nearly choked and proceeded to pound her fist into her chest. As her food finally made its way down she chuckled before lifting another spoonful to her mouth. “If that were the case, I would’ve found a way to escape this fucking place,” she stated humorlessly before eating more. She spied Pops hounding the piece of meat she set aside which made her laugh slightly. “You can have it Pops,” she mused.
Pops demeanor shifted joyously as he did a little excited old man dance in his chair, “Hee! Hee! You sure are a darlin’!” he exclaimed before enthusiastically grabbing the chunk of meat and sticking it in his mouth, his decaying teeth pulling the stiff cream colored meat apart.
Henry and Morrigan shook their heads as the old man groaned in delight. As he finished the piece he bit off, he inspected it thoughtfully, “ya know, kinda reminds me o’ crab meat. Especially when ol’ Tank goes an dries it.” Pops smacked his lips as he stuck the rest in his mouth, “savory… wit a bit o’ flakiness!” he announced as he chewed.
Morrigan could not fight the gag that formed in her throat. She dropped the spoon in her bowl and shook her head, “old man that is just wrong. Its bad enough I have to eat the flavorless shit in the bowl but you can’t go comparing bug to crab!” she groaned as she nudged the bowl away in disgust.
Henry laughed heartily while Pops eyed the bowl, leaning to scoop it up for himself only to have Morrigan recover from her disgust to crack him in the knuckle with the wooden spoon. “Nuh uh! Not after the crab comment,” Morrigan glared as Pops yelped and sucked on the offended knuckle.
As she pulled the half eaten bowl back Henry began shuffling the deck of cards, “you gettin’ in on the game Mori?” he asked.
She eyed the potential prizes they had sitting on the table. There was a match book which piqued her interest, a granola bar, some kind of rubber film used to do light exercises with, and several packs of crackers. “Yeah, deal me in,” she said before shoveling down the rest of the bland goop, set the bowl aside and shoved the chunk of hardtack in her mouth. She smiled devilishly in amusement when she pulled out her betting items which both men went wide eyed with greed, especially when she broke off half a sheet of hardtack and set it on top of a half a pack of gum and a clean roll of fabric. Their enthusiasm made winning that much sweeter for Morrigan.
ΩΩΩ
There was a soft pop as Helen pulled the cork from glass decanter of scotch. She watched the amber liquid diligently as it poured smoothly into the glass that sat nearby; an evening drink for a long day of work.
She worked diligently in the office Dr. Yuma had set up for their group. After taking the time to blackout the windows, sound proofing the room and setting up a dedicated system connected to the CoU, Helen felt a lot more useful and content despite the overwhelming stress of their situation had become.
After months of searching and sifting through any information the CoU could give them as well as putting her work experience to use in the effort to help the CoU, the location of her husband James had been uncovered.
The bad thing about discovering that information was learning he had been sentenced to 22 years in a Federation run penal foundry on Mars. They had no chance at leaving Earth, making it to a Federation controlled planet like Mars and much less breaking into a federal prison; the realization tore Helen apart inside.
Things were not entirely woeful though. Mo’Emori had become the pinnacle of joy around the office. Every minute of free time she had she spent with their group, ecstatic to have her brother so close to her as well as her brother’s “special friend”.
From what Helen had gleaned, Torvil and Mo’Emori had not seen each other in well over a decade since she worked with the CoU and Torvil was a master infiltrator for their Sybrydian; which was the Eskarii equivalent of Terran Black Ops. This causes Torvil to be away from his family for extensive periods of time. It turned out to be pure happenstance that Mo’Emori was able to get in touch with Torvil in time to attempt to rescue Morrigan from the high school.
Even with Mo’Emori’s enthusiasm to annoy her older brother, she and Helen spent a great deal of time together. Nearly every day Mo’Emori spent hours in the hotel penthouse the CoU paid for. It was mainly for Helen, seeing as Jen and Torvil had spent the last six months becoming smugglers for the CoU.
Mo’Emori seemed to take her initial comment to heart and really drive home the idea that they were now family. In truth, Helen found the notion endearing and sweet of the Eskarii girl but also had come to realize that Mo’Emori had made herself an integral part of her life. As it turned out, whenever Mo’Emori called her Mem, she had been calling her mother.
Helen could not help but smile every time she heard her say it now, though it took two months of annoying Torvil to pry out the translation.
Helen recorked the decanter before stepping away from the kitchen island and comfortably sprawling out on the sofa in the living room. The sofa was beautiful light brown suede leather which was heaven to her exhausted mind.
The burn of the scotch settled in her throat as she thought about the Eskarii siblings’ dynamic, a small smirk on her face. Torvil was the generic broody older brother while Mo’Emori was the bubbly, energetic sister who loved nothing more than to get underneath her older sibling’s skin.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Helen furrowed her brows at another thought. What if her and James had given Morrigan a sibling? What chaotic dynamic would they have? Knowing how Morrigan turned out, she was sure it would’ve been a pair of hell raisers. Morrigan would have made sure of that. The thought only made Helen’s heart hurt. She would give anything to hold her baby girl in her arms and know that she was safe. Not knowing a single thing about Morrigan’s well being was enough to drive her maternal instincts into a violent, unhinged frenzy. Yet, Helen knew she had to restrain every ounce of the chaos that was in her heart. She knew it would help no one if she got herself arrested or killed by lashing out at the Federation.
There was a quick repeated knock at the door of the penthouse that caused Helen’s spirit to lift a little. It was the tell tale knock off her now pseudo-daughter. “Come on in sweetie!” she called out as she set her glass on the end table beside the couch and sat up straight to be more proper.
She heard the door open and close quickly, but then there was nothing. The eerie silence started to set Helen on edge as she leaned forward to try and catch any sort of sound that would echo off the walls. A pair of arms pulled her back into the couch causing her to yelp in panic. Helen’s anxiety began to subside as the iconic teal hair came into her peripheral followed by the giggling she had become accustom to hearing.
“Hi Mem!” Mo'Emori exclaimed as she pulled Helen into a tight hug from behind the sofa and planting a firm kiss on Helen’s cheek.
Helen could not help but laugh as she patted one of the young Eskarii’s arms, “oh you brat, you scared the hell out of me.” Which only made Mo’Emori giggle more before she released her and fluidly slipped over the back of the sofa to land her head in Helen’s lap. Helen snorted in amusement as she looked to find Mo’Emori batting her eyelashes at her, her vibrant eyes staring up at her with a big grin on her face. “You’re ridiculous,” Helen said as she pinched Mo’Emori’s cheek. “You’re as bad as Mori you know?”
Mo’Emori beamed at that, “How so?” she asked sweetly.
Helen smirked as she ran her nails against the Eskarii’s scalp. She watched as Mo’Emori’s eyes fluttered and let out a blissful sigh. “Mori loved messin’ with her parents as well as her boyfriend.”
Mo’Emori snickered at that, “I can imagine. Fy aarden me’ch is a mischievous one,” she said with the hint of a blush as she fidgeted with her long hair.
Helen smiled warmly. She did not know what she said but she knew it was something kind. “That she is. Always has been ever since she was a little girl.” Helen reached for her drink and took a small sip. “She was a wild child with a quick temper even before she got arrested, after that though…”
Mo’Emori gave her a pleasant, reassuring smile before lifting a tuft of her hair and placed it between her nose and upper lip, giving herself an awkward teal mustache. Helen giggled at her childishness and brushed her hand gently across Mo’Emori’s face. They both laughed lightheartedly before a silence fell between them.
A sad smile brushed across Mo’Emori’s face as she felt tears wanting to surface. “It was something she did,” she stated softly.
Helen frowned at the switch in demeanor, hearing the buried sadness within Mo’Emori’s words. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Mo’Emori stuck the hair back under her lip briefly before sighing, “the last day I saw Mori, she did that with her hair… she always did silly things,” Helen watched Mo’Emori’s long pointed ears subtly shift toward her shoulders, emphasizing the sadness she was feeling. “It was so cute and silly though, Di’wiesau! She was so… it was a piece of the sweetness in her heart. I have so many memories of silly Mori and it just… I miss her.”
Helen listened to her voice crack at the end of her melancholic reminiscing. She took her thumb and brushed away the single stray tear the rolled down the side of the girl’s temple. She gave her a soft smile as Mo’Emori looked up at her with tear filled eyes and brushed her hand up her forehead, her touch motherly. “Mori does cute things when she's bashful, and you made her incredibly shy,” she said as she booped her on the nose with her finger.
Mo’Emori could not keep from smiling at that but her heart still mourned from the memories. “Don’t worry though sweetie, we’ll find her,” Helen stated, keeping her own pain from her words. “Until then, I want to know more about you,” she said as she grabbed some of her teal hair and brushed the girl’s face with it.
This got Mo’Emori giggling again. “What would my Mem like to know?” she teased.
“Well since I was going to mention that Torvil and Jen are on their way back in the next day or two, how about you tell me about your family? Torvil did mention that you have more siblings but he wouldn’t talk about any of them except for you since we knew you.”
Mo’Emori chuckled at her brother’s closed shell and sat up, turning towards Helen as Helen took another drink of scotch, “Well, including Torvil, I have ten siblings.” She watched wide eyed as Helen choked on her drink and began violently coughing up scotch.
Helen grabbed at her chest as she forcibly set the drink down trying to breath. “Holy hell!” she exclaimed through a strained breath. “I could not imagine having that many kids!” she enunciated before shifting into coughing laughter. Mo’Emori's anxiety quickly faded when she realized her pseudo-mother was okay and even managed to chuckle light heartedly.
“Yeah, most Eskarii only have one maybe two children but I get to have many siblings,” she said cheerily. “From oldest to youngest it goes my brawder Cheronn, my chwaede Sváv, Jiala, and Saerah, my brawde Torvil, Lakai and his twin chwaeda Inati, then me, then my chwaede Jae’rón and Tali.”
Helen chuckled, “your mother was one busy woman. Having Morrigan was enough for me. She was an absolute tyrant while she was in the womb.” Mo’Emori laughed with a nod. Helen came up with another question, “how old is Cheronn?”
Mo’Emori smiled, “he is 189 years.”
“Oh wow,” Helen stated.
“Yes, Tali, our youngest chwaeda, had just turned 24 a few months ago!” Mo’Emori said joyously. It was endearing to Helen with how happy Mo’Emori was when she spoke of her family.
That posed the next question, “so, how old does that make you?” Helen asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Mo’Emori blushed and looked away, “I will be 56 soon…”
“Oh geez!” Helen outraged as her hand smacked against her forehead. Mo’Emori gave her a surprised look as she saw Helen shaking her head into her hand.
“Have I said something wrong Mem?” she asked wearily with a soft downward curve of her ears.
Helen peeked at her, suddenly realizing Mo’Emori was upset and shook her head with an amused laugh, “no sweetie, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just kind of weird that a girl older than I am is calling me mother!”
Mo’Emori perked up as soon as she was told she was not in trouble with her pseudo-mother and smiled brightly with a tilt of her head, “well, how old are you?” she asked.
Helen huffed in faux indignation, “I turned 43 at the beginning of the year…”
Mo’Emori hummed as she looked towards the ceiling in concentrated thought. Helen noticed her touching her fingertips together in calculation before she grinned. When her gaze fell back to Helen she exclaimed, “you’re older than my Mem-eni!”
Befuddled, Helen furrowed her brows and asked, “how is that?”
Mo’Emori bounced excitedly, “well, if you think about it, if you take the average life span of an Eskarii and the lifespan of a Terran and do the math, you would be nearly 269 in Eskarii years! My Mem-eni is 244 years old now!” There was a long pause as Helen stared at the adorably exuberant Eskarii and processed her bizarre logic before busting out laughing.
“Oh, thanks hun! I don’t know how I feel being considered 269 years old,” she sputtered before pulling Mo’Emori into a tight hug that caused her to squeak. “Thanks though, I definitely needed that,” she said placing her cheek on Mo’Emori’s head.
Mo’Emori preened and let out a comfortable sigh before pulling back to sit up again.
“What about your father?” Helen asked.
Mo’Emori’s face faltered slightly as she turned towards the glass of scotch that sat on the coffee table. She reached forward, grabbing the glass and took a small sip with a disgusted grimace before setting it back down. She did not see Helen’s amused smile at her as she reached for the strong liquor before she leaned back into the couch and sighed.
“My Tad’a died soon after Tali was born…” she said sullenly. It did not take much intuition for Helen to figure out that Tad’a meant father.
“What happened?” she inquired with a frown, hoping it was not a Terran related death.
Mo’Emori stared off into space for a moment before clicking her tongue, “my Tad’a, he liked to hunt… as do most Eskarii. For us it is a right of passage into becoming a warrior. All of my chwaede and brawde have performed the hunt and made our Triss’unbré from our first hunts…” she paused to wipe her nose as she sniffed, “he was hunting a Danthïr.”
Helen cocked her head intently listening. Mo’Emori pulled her phone out and typed rapidly. Within a minute, Mo’Emori held out the phone to show a picture of a creature that looked like a large canine crossbred between an Earthly hyena and wolf. However, there were noticeable differences by its twin long tails, and two sets of tentacle-like appendages, two coming from its shoulders and one coming from each side of its face. The other noticeable feature of the creature was its large paws and long fangs that stuck out from its upper lip. Without asking she flipped to another picture of the canine wreathed in electricity which caught Helen by surprise.
“In your language it would translate to ‘long fang’. They are strong, deadly creatures and highly prized trophies to the Eskarii,” Mo’Emori continued as she pulled her phone back. “When he was hunting, he thought he came across only one. However, when he injured the creature, its mate came…” she said longingly shifting into a more comfortable position against the other arm of the sofa.
“They look terrifying,” Helen noted absently as she grabbed her drink and did the same.
Mo’Emori nodded, “Danthïr are creatures that bond for life… there is no gender based strive for survival. As far as the Eskarii have studied, they bond to other powerful Danthïr or even other creatures with great power. After that, there is an almost… telekinetic I think the word is, bond between the two beings. The Eskarii know little about their mating habits since we have never been able to contain one long enough to understand its habits much less two of them.”
“But what was with the electricity around it?” Helen asked.
Mo’Emori smirked, “They produce a powerful natural bioelectrical field. The feelers on their body are used to control that field into a weapon to hunt prey, either stunning it or killing it through electrical shock. It was what happened to my Tad’a… while injuring the first one, the mate stunned him long enough to sink its fangs into his shoulder and tear his arm off… he bled out almost instantly…” she said sadly as she wiped the stray tear from her cheek.
Helen took the time to read Mo’Emori’s body language before leaning forward and touching her ankle. When she looked up Helen motioned for her to come to her which she quickly obliged. Mo’Emori nestled into Helen’s side and chest as Helen wrapped her arm around the girl. “I’m sorry your father passed away hun, though I’m glad you’re old enough to have good memories of him, yes?”
Mo’Emori sniffled and nodded. Helen took a sip of scotch and squeezed her a little tighter, “we have wolves in Colorado,” Helen mentioned which caused Mo’Emori to look up at her. “A few days before her graduation, Morrigan ended up fighting three wolves up in the mountains after falling into a crevasse. That girl is beyond resilient to fall from such a height and fight off wolves mere hours later,” Helen retold the story fondly as Mo’Emori giggled, “of course she passed out like a rock after the rescue crew found her. Even being found safe and sound, apparently she mentioned the wolves as the paramedics took her to the hospital which just had James and Taylor worrying more.”
At the mention of Taylor, Mo’Emori shot up straight,
“Pah’sk! I completely forgot!”
Helen jerked up with her in surprise, “what is it?” she questioned as Mo’Emori pulled out her phone again and dug through it.
“One of our spies sent me this a few hours ago. It was the main reason I came over!” she explained in harsh embarrassment as she handed the phone over.
Helen took her phone with increased interest. The first thing she saw was a terrible picture of a tall, large, bearded man in grey and yellow marine armor standing in an open storage area amongst a squad of marines. She could immediately tell it was Taylor despite the terrible resolution. “Where did this come from?” she asked as she began to read the report attached to the picture.
Mo’Emori ran her hand through her hair before replying, “from one of CoU’s spies aboard the Federation cruiser FSS Chevelle…”
Helen kept reading in lieu of inquiring the implication of spies aboard Federation starships. “Shit…” she muttered as she scrolled through the information.
“What is it?” Mo’Emori inquired.
“This is worse than we thought… far worse,” Helen breathed out. When she finished glossing through the report, she gently set the phone on the couch as she shook with stress ladened despair. “Taylor is no longer a conscript…” she stammered out trying to fight the stress of the information she just obtained, recalling the phrase ‘transferred to DS-124 Havoc.’
Mo’Emori cocked her head in confusion, “isn’t it good we know where he is? We can always send a strike team to get him. Wait… what do you mean he’s not longer a conscript? What does that mean? Isn’t that good?” she riddled off as Helen’s reaction had her own nerves ramping up.
Helen shook her head, “no we can’t… he’s been transferred to a Death Squad.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Mo’Emori said with a shake of her head.
Helen let out a heavy sigh and hung her head, “a Death Squad is a form of capital punishment within Federation military. They’re essentially combining special forces with death row sentences… you fight until you die… and if you try to leave, you’re killed, and if you manage to escape, you’ll be killed on sight if found…”
There was another long pause between both woman as the information sank in.
“Well, shit…” Mo’Emori muttered, foregoing her own language for the gravity of the situation.