Sunundra kept an ear pressed to the door, only lowering her raised paw when the echoes of distant footsteps faded fully, the tension melting from the suffocating pressure it had placed on her chest She released the breath that had stuck in her throat, giving Bill a nod as he anxiously inspected the random room they had taken momentary refuge in.
Though reinforcements certainly did arrive after they fled the den she awoke in, the swift elimination of their compatriots left no information to operate off of. It made the decision to hide away in whatever dens they came across rather effective—a boon, if nerve-wracking.
The human held the navigational terminal close, his death grip on the device loosening only once she backed off the barrier between them and the hallways. The pale-furred female turned the knob and cracked the door open, scented the air to confirm, then motioned for him to wait as she reentered the corridors. She aimed the pistol down at the floor when a quick scan of the halls revealed no threats. An unrelenting sense of vulnerability persisted, but like it or not, they needed to move. With an affirmative nod to the male peering from the doorway, they set out with careful steps and measured breaths.
She felt exposed and frail as they traversed the monotonous stretches between junctions, an uneasy expectation of encountering enemies in the back of her mind. There wasn’t much she could do about it; if his call wasn't enough to set them on high alert, then the bombs she used to leave with Bill certainly were. If she had slightly more foresight, she might have thought to reapply the armour taken off the corpses so long ago, but her human had removed them in an effort to access her wounds, and now they were thrown out along with the rest of her soiled, torn clothing. She appreciated his concern, yet the lack of the admittedly meagre protections made her slightly less confident about her chances in a confrontation. The enemy was beginning to congregate on the fourth floor, which only gave them all the more reason to leave.
It had taken quite a while to get as close as they were to the public elevator, yet the danger and security gathering around every turn necessitated caution. Thankfully, they only needed to pop a lock open and duck into unoccupied domiciles twice, and although there was a chance of their enemies seeing the slightly damaged doors, they had yet to notice. Her frown grew when she absently wondered just how many times that would hold true.
“Next right,” Bill directed nervously from behind, his voice low as he glanced at the map. She nodded in silent acknowledgement.
The dimmer hallways of the fourth level might have been a welcome departure from the bright illumination of previous floors, but the shadows cast by the less frequent sources were starting to play with her perceptions. Forms flickered in and out of existence; tendrils whipped about in the shade, only to vanish when she focused on them. She bit down the snarl and desperation swelling underneath the stoic facade her bond drew strength from, ignoring the increasing paranoia.
She had never truly humoured the thought of being a den-leader—her defect practically eliminated the chances of anyone relying on her, and being fully accepted into a den-pack at all was reserved for her absent fantasies. It was strange to make decisions for others, and not because she felt Bill would perform to a lesser degree; with him so shaken and disoriented, she needed to be the one in charge, if only to offer respite for his looming fear.
And fearful he was; although he was doing an admirable job of maintaining a neutral visage, the reflection within her portrayed a different image. Threats of death and vestiges of the narrowly avoided demise plagued him, his every glance at her cauterized injuries striking sympathy and concern between flickers of cripplingly high alertness.
It got worse when he noticed the blood slowly seeping from thin lacerations left untended. The front of Sunundra’s shirt dripped crimson every so often, though she had taken to using her arm to soak it up. Even unaware of the worst, he saw her as hurt and in need of aid. Still, he relied on her to see them safe in a situation he was woefully untrained to handle, thus he could only swallow the worry when she claimed that the gashes were unworthy of consideration. She only hoped he didn’t notice how tired and sluggish her movements were growing to be. What little rest she gained from passing out was far from enough to supply the level of stress, but if he knew just how thin the thread she was clinging to was, he would only worry helplessly.
A few more turns and stretches of silence transformed their steady progress into a weighted veil of unbearable anticipation. The sounds of his considerably heavier steps let off slight echoes, even when he tried to soften them. It wasn’t enough to compromise general stealth, but it was enough for her to request that he stop well before they assessed each corner, to which he reluctantly obliged.
Her paw raised once more as they approached the corner of a three-way intersection, Bill dutifully staying close to the wall a few paces back as he watched the defect to raise her pistol towards the left corridor. She listened for the slightest deviation and stared down the sights of her firearm. One heartbeat. Two. Clear. She repeated the procedure for the right, motioning for her bond to regroup once she was sure it was safe to do so.
Bill crept up to her from behind, his voice a low, anxious whisper into her ear. “Almost there. Next is a left, then it’s two straights, a long right, and a short left. Should be pretty obvious from there, I think.”
She could hear his heart pounding under the forced composure, and the pause to memorize the directions only made the sound more intense. Her tail wrapped around his wrist absently, the unexpected action soothing both of them more than it probably should have. It felt better to have him tethered like this—safer. Her fate was tied to his, and although he lacked the ability to reciprocate, it felt no less natural to declare such through the instinctual gesture. Feeling her form mirror her mind settled the persisting unease; even at her base, she wished him to be her last light.
“I will assess the elevator,” she decided, regretfully uncoiling her tail from the comforting contact. “You are to wait for me here.”
He clasped her shoulder before she could finish the first step to leave his proximity, the questioning side-eyed glance meeting his open concern. “Isn't it too dangerous to split up?”
“It is my duty to see you well. I will be as swift as I can.”
“I…” He closed his mouth, his lips pursed and his eyes averted. “I don’t want you to run into danger alone.”
“Were I to allow you to accompany me, and harm befell you as a consequence, then my own negligence would be to blame.” She gently removed his paw and returned it to his side, letting the pads of her claws linger on his skin. “Trust in me.”
He reluctantly released her, the bond still swimming with doubt and uncertainty. Sunundra frowned the smallest bit, eyeing the door of one of the nearby rooms. After listening to make sure they wouldn’t need to remove an unexpected occupant, she used a small corrosive to melt the internals of the lock, popping the entrance open and gesturing for the male to take shelter within. Bill hesitated, but acquiesced, his worry only growing once he entered the small pocket of relative safety.
She gave him one last reassuring smile, the attempt to close the door stopped by his foot. His regretful grimace and avoidant gaze punctuated the silence of words waiting to be spoken.
“Are we sure…” He exhaled, abandoning the rest of the thought as his round pupils finally wandered towards her. “No, never mind. Just…don't do anything you can’t take back?”
Her response faltered before it could leave her muzzle. He knew it was an impossible request to make, yet a sliver of hope wanted the threat to be far less than it was. He wanted their foe to be but soldiers following the orders of their command out of necessity, and not because the enemy felt it justified. He wanted to maintain the possibility of a peaceful resolution.
Unfortunately, she had long since learned the folly of attempting to obey a hierarchy while also following one’s own path; whether a rifle is fired because of requirement or belief, the death it brings will remain the same. He was untainted by that knowledge, or perhaps wilfully ignored the weight of reality in hopes of sparing his beleaguered soul. Still, he needed someone to take on that burden, alongside whatever consequences that may bring.
Without it, he would see the end of what little hope remained, then fall so very, very far. He would plummet until the Void swallowed him whole.
She had the bond to catch her when the very ground she existed on crumbled; he only had her.
“As long as you are safe, I will do what is needed,” she promised, aware that it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. The disappointment didn't need to be felt to be noticed; his sorrowful smile said everything. A sense of defeat clouded his absent nod, the male too weary to argue. Her mind drifted to the video on the odd terminal. It was far from an opportune time, but if he could only see why her actions were necessary…
She made up her mind, his dejection quickly turning to surprise, then panic when her paw entered the gash in her stomach, pulling free to present the device.
“Holy f—”
“—Here.”
He blinked, stunned by the fresh vermilion coating the screen as she brought the video back up. A single frozen frame depicted a male Lilhun snarling, the expression warped into a promise to deliver a slow and suffering death.
“B-but your…”
A grim but soft shake of her head was enough to stop him this time. “There are more important matters than a wound I will have treated once we escape. This is the proof of my claims, as pitiful as it must appear. I would have preferred you to see it in less stressful circumstances, yet that seems infeasible now.”
Hesitation. Uncertainty. Fear. Her arm shook the slightest amount as he gingerly removed the device from her possession, the cold chill down her spine permeating the expectation of something horrid to appear. It dwelled in the shadows, yet was subdued by a firm breath, her struggle to suppress the pull of the bond only making marginal progress.
“What if you’re gone for too—”
“—You are to remain here until I return, Bill,” she ordered, firmly cutting him off with a glare that betrayed how much it hurt her to force the decision. “View the recording once I am away, and no matter what you may hear outside the room, please wait for me.”
The human tightened his expression, his internal debate coming to an end with a reluctant nod. He turned his attention to the terminal, using the pad of a claw to wipe away the crimson smeared across the screen and swallowing the lump of trepidation that formed in his throat. “How did you… Doesn’t it hurt?”
She followed the loose gesture to her stomach, the fresh interaction coaxing out a languid flow of ichor that added a wet sheen to the blood drying into the fabric of her shirt. “Yes.”
“Then why…?”
Another shake of her head dismissed the topic, her focus shifting to the only other thing she would ever keep so close in both a metaphorical and literal way. The discomfort of the firecracker was more soothing than hurtful. She could return to what she was after her task was done.
“Because there are some things I wish to keep,” the pale-furred female explained softly, a paw covering the damp stain. “Even when life has left me.”
His grip on the odd terminal tightened, a morbid understanding colouring his grimace. Bill’s expression turned rueful, though he directed his attention to the screen before he could dwell on the subject. “So, I just play it while I wait?”
She nodded as reassuringly as she could, her lopsided smile still weighted by apprehension. A fear of her own joined his in the swirling, gaping maw that awaited a moment of weakness, biding its time until it could snap closed upon her trembling form. Just the thought of leaving his side after so long apart threatened to tear the desperate pleas right out of her muzzle, yet he needed to know, and she needed to clear the path. His reaction to the content would hinder her effectiveness, and based on how he felt about eliminating the enemy when they were an imminent threat, she worried about her ability to function under his influence once he knew just how horrid the Union was. The bond may be everything she had ever wished for, but when cold calculation and instant lethal action is a requirement, his hesitation would become her own, and her death would be his in return.
The male inhaled until it seemed to be uncomfortable, letting it out in one steady, heavy stream of apprehensive compliance. “Okay. I'll watch it, but don't… Don't be too long, okay?”
She reached for his paw, giving it the slightest squeeze and letting the comfort of his touch reaffirm why she had yet to surrender to the Void. The desire to remain by his side grew, but was superseded by the need to secure their escape. “I will return.”
More waited to be said on their expectant tongues, yet neither broke the temporary silence. A request had been voiced, and a promise was made. That was enough.
The door closed by her paw, Bill’s concerned and conflicted smile slowly leaving her view until a click of the latch left only the lone defect in the hallway. Already, her instincts demanded that she sequester herself away with him. Already, the distance was too much, the thin barrier feeling like vast oceans between her and the scent that encouraged her shattered heart to beat.
Proceed. Secure. Return.
Focus. She had to focus. Verify the path to the elevator, assess if it was safe, and then she could come back for him.
A final uncertain check of her equipment resulted in a few explosives being loosely tethered to the straps of her backpack. Her paw brushed over the aerial drone she had made for Recon, the whispered doubt proposing that Bill might blame Lilhuns for being a component in the slaughter of humans—or worse, he would blame her for bringing such a fate upon him. Her jaw clenched as she forced down the urge to stop him from seeing the recording and doing just that. Regrets could come to light once they themselves were out of the dark.
The lack of armour meant that even stray shots were dangerous, and her aching injuries may pose little threat of bleeding out, but she couldn’t deny that they had taken their toll. Her shoulder and legs were somehow still holding, albeit only just. Her stomach stung, though remained mostly ignored for now. As for the numerous other cuts and the like? Some had scabbed or matted the surrounding fur enough to repel debris, but most escaped her notice, save for the faint burning sensation scattered over her frame.
Truthfully, she was in no state to depart on any kind of mission, yet their escape depended on her ability to persevere. He needed her to, if only so that she would be there once he became aware of the full scope of what they were up against. In circumstances where the way forward was clouded by doubt and the unknown, she would be his beacon. Right now, she was needed to guide him out of the facility.
Her first footstep was reluctant. The second was resolute.
The third was…
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= = = = =
“S.T.O. Demo. Continue,” Heroon reiterated warily. As was the case for the previous two attempts, she remained silent, staring vacantly at the table she was sitting in front of.
The captive Lilhun had started pausing during the retelling, each one steadily growing in duration as the story built up to…something. Understandable, given the subject, though it was her expressions that worried him. They hovered and melded between forms, taking the appearance of abject terror for some segments, sorrow in others, and detachment slipping into frame seemingly at random.
Illia glanced in his direction after waiting a while for speech that never came, a tepid concern furrowing her brows. He simply kept his thoughts on the matter unspoken, opting to maintain a cold professionalism as he reiterated the command. The previous silences may have lingered, but those were filled by a voiceless muzzle struggling to phrase the events, her searching eyes telling of the difficulty she had organizing the memory into something coherent. Her words of the human were always quick and concise—the clear and natural flow of speech more akin to a den-mother regaling a tale of wondrous fantasy to eager kits than a testimony—yet the rest was stuttered and struggled out by an uncertain tongue. It was as if the mere fact that she had been out of his presence was a cursed thought being rejected by her subconscious.
Or it was too simply too painful to properly recall…
The image of decay had evaporated from the defect; in its place lay a powder keg of doubt and regret. Adrenaline appeared to be suppressed by sheer will, the fidgeting that had become a staple of her motions still present, albeit subdued since she had told of her first kill. She stared at her claws during that recollection, an unsettlingly calm curiosity making itself known, her speech slow and inquisitive. After that, and the general improvement of her condition, it was vexing that she would find now of all times to be silent. Especially after how long it had taken to reach this point.
“I suppose that will be all for this sun?” Illia suggested, a hopeful flex of her claws conveying how sore they had become from the extended typing. Her head tilted upwards. “Or moon.”
“It might be,” he agreed, checking the sliver of light passed down through complex mirror arrays to a thin line above him. It had been quite early when they started, yet the dim moonlight stubbornly illuminated the accent in the ceiling, uncaring of their expectation for the interrogation to have been a short affair. No matter. They would summon replacements to continue in their stead. Hopefully, a conclusion would be reached by the time they returned.
His assistant stood with a slight bounce, stretching out her back and legs. “Think Gemi left us something to eat?”
Heroon hummed neutrally, his eyes fixed on the defect. The pale-furred female was shaking, lightly rocking her downcast gaze. The subtle motions built in intensity over time, a presumed fear taking root as she covered an apparently traumatic section of her tale. His first thought was that she had simply succumbed to the weight of remnant terror or fallen into despondency once more…
Then the laughing started. It began as a bubbling squeak, surpassing a chortle and contorting into manic barks. Her head pitched backwards as the mirth bolstered.
No, not mirth. He was too disturbed to notice right away, but the moisture of tears dampening her fur caught the light. A slight squeal of claws on metal followed the tightening grip on the edges of the table, a pair of small clicks piercing through the air as two of her claws finally snapped—not that she seemed to notice. He traded an apologetic glance with Illia, her sigh dragging all of her previous enthusiasm out with it. He reached out to depress the intercom.
“S.T.O. Demo?” The laughing ceased, leaving behind a muted gaze at the ceiling. Heroon waited a moment. “Continue.”
“They are different from us,” she stated simply. His pause for elaboration was met with nothing.
“That is quite obvious, yes.” More silence met his flat response, ending as soon as he was about to give up.
“What would you do, High Quesitar? What if it was you who was given evidence of such sin against your kind and an alien people by one of said aliens?” Her head levelled back at the wall between her and the two interrogators, her stare blankly moving from point to point. “You are weakened. Outnumbered. You lack the ability to defend yourself against the enemy. Your ally instructs you to wait while they clear the way, passing you proof that her words are true—that your very existence is but a stone in the enemy’s way, and one which no thought will be given before being removed. What would your instinct be?”
The brown-furred male raised a brow, feeling Illia’s own interest burning a hole through him from the side. “To view it.”
“And he did,” she agreed with a soft nod, closing her eyes solemnly. “What then?”
“Assuming I found it to be sufficient…” He drew a breath as he thought the answer out. Typically, he wouldn’t humour these hypotheticals. Typically. Yet something drove him to answer. “Obey my orders to await my ally, and then proceed to extraction or exfiltration upon their return. Once clear of the threat, I would report my findings to my superiors.”
The amber of her irises slowly came into prominence. “As was my intention.”
Another fruitless wait ended when curiosity got the best of him. “Then what would make them notably different in this situation?”
“They do not follow orders easily,” she whispered. A genuine if wistful smile doused her words in melancholy. “They are an impatient people; when wronged, they do not simply ‘wait.’”
He exhaled in disappointment, expecting more than warnings of flagrant stupidity. “Your ally fled?”
“No.” The defect placed her paws on the table, only now noticing the broken clawtips with a vapid sense of detached novelty. “But he should have…”
= = = = =
Sunundra cautiously approached and peered around the final corner, catching a glimpse of the numerous security officers convening around the entrance to the public elevator, several of which using their apparently superior station to pass along orders and receive reports. Weapons of various unknown origin and design made her wary of even getting close enough for her translator to pick up the conversations, leaving her more sensitive hearing to parse meaningless tones and what little visual cues she could pick out. The only saving grace was that she hadn’t allowed her bond to come with her; his louder steps would likely have alerted the enemy, and she was disheartened enough without feeling his apprehension as well.
Even if there weren’t such numbers blocking their egress, the lift itself had been forcefully shut down. Its doors were wedged open, a pile of mechanical components placed to the side, rendering the entire assembly inoperable. If they were to commit to using this route, she would need to clear the area, then pray that either her or Bill knew how to repair it. It was a frivolously wishful thought at best. That only left the option of locating the freight elevator for this level and hoping it was left unaltered…
She was trying to remember the general layout of the map when there was a shift in the steady din of alien tongue and busy gestures. One of the creatures paused mid-stride, raising one of its four chitin-covered paws to the side of its head. Her observation was brought to a halt when the distant crack of a gunshot echoed through the corridor. Her ears turned back towards the origin, diffused and thin from the reflections off the walls, yet her stomach dropped as she dismissed probable cause after probable cause in rapid succession. Another shot rang out after a prolonged pause, shattering what little denial she had been clinging to.
The enemy had been conservative with their ammunition and actions, opting not to simply kick in doors to check each and every room—something she owed her and Bill’s current success in hiding to. If the enemy had shot, then they had found something worth shooting at, and the only thing which fit the criteria that way was…Bill.
Multiple eyes and similar analogues snapped towards the direction of the sounds—and, in turn, to where she was watching from. Her paws moved automatically, slipping the pistol back into its makeshift holster and snatching two charges from the straps of her bag. Cold blood pumped through her veins as her arm loaded back and pitched the first explosive into the crowd. Most were too preoccupied with processing what had been thrown to react accordingly, but the few that chose to scatter caught a glimpse of the second object following after the first. The defect broke into a retreating sprint before she could see the result of the unorthodox combination, nor notice the lack of guilt in implementing something which would have previously violated her principles.
The first bomb detonated in the air, the enemy suffused with shredding fragmentation and fine caustic powder—a non-lethal deterrent on its own, but the second was what elevated it to being devastatingly lethal. The later charge clinked and tumbled across the ground…then sparked.
It was such a small click to follow after such a jarring bang, yet it was that part of the sequence that confirmed she had abandoned her old ways. Neither were useful outside niche applications. In fact, neither would do much more than disable a vehicle, assuming one were to get creative. Separately, they were cruel methods to drag out the suffering of the dying or deny access to certain areas. Combined, they transformed the corridors into unforgiving crypts of flame and corrosive fume.
The low whisper of wind being sucked in was responded to by a deafening roar of expanding inferno, bathing the pale-furred female in cleansing fire just as she covered her muzzle with her shirt. Her flattened ears and closed eyes stung—the superheated, aerosolized acid eating away at the exposed flesh of her various lacerations. The burning dissipated quickly enough, the chemicals failing to reach a point of reactive equilibrium, though only just. It freed her paws to wipe away what remained as she exited the effective range of the biochemical war crime.
She should have been trembling in horror once it registered that she had strayed so far from the path she once vowed to follow, yet the need to reach her bond blocked out all else. How miniscule the sin had become when compared to his safety. How willingly she would do it again…
She turned a corner at full speed, stumbling to a halt when she found her other much farther from the room than he should have been. Bill leaned against the wall in the hallway, one paw on the side of his ribs while the other dangled a rifle of some design by the grip, his eyes glued to a crumpled corpse on the floor. A single wound in the alien’s abdomen left a gaping exit hole that slowly spilled its orange blood into the growing pool. The male’s breath was drawn through clenched teeth, then shakily exhaled in time with his trembling form, a hardened disgust causing him to wear a vicious snarl.
Sunundra took a step closer, the worrying neutrality of his scent reflecting nothing within the bond. It wasn’t absent, just…empty. She felt his influence as a lukewarm presence within her core, yet an uncomfortable sting in her side accompanied the uneasy pressure of something lurking underneath. It was like stepping into a lull of conflict in an active war zone; both sides were too alert to accept respite, clutching their weapons and awaiting the moment that the Void swept the battlefield once more. Her claws tapped against the ground as she approached, confused and cautious.
One tick of her walk proved louder than the rest, her bond stiffening almost imperceptibly. Her heart thumped in response, a shot of adrenaline acting as a defibrillator, her senses sharpening to a painful degree in preparation to face the looming spectre of death closing in on her. Only a twitch telegraphed the male’s movement, a whipping pivot and sloppily shouldered rifle ending with him looking at her through the sights with an almost feral gleam in his eyes.
For the smallest fraction, Bill did not see the defective female he had entrusted with his safety; he saw an enemy which came to strike while she was away. Despite the poor form and haphazard stance, his defiance and a spiteful need to persevere for the sake of another stoked the flames of survival that aimed the gun. He was not a soldier—he never learned how to assess the situation during a firefight, nor taught anything at all—yet one did not need training to point a barrel and flex a claw.
The muted click of the trigger echoed in their silence, a malfunction causing the weapon to fail and leaving him to stare at the unaffected female. Realization slowly joined his wild expression, followed by relief, then horror as he processed what he had almost done. He glanced at the wavering rifle in his paws before dropping it to clatter against the ground. There was no imminent threat, only her, yet he had wasted no time in trying to dispatch what he thought to be an enemy. It was such a small breach in his previous request of her, yet the crack in his resolve let emotions flow through the bond; worry, fear, guilt, and a surprisingly strong urge to protect became pillars to support her sanity.
“I-I didn’t… You were… T-then he… I thought…” he stuttered, swallowing down the dryness in his throat and trying to suppress the trembling in his paws. He stepped forward when she failed to respond, her blank confusion watching as his unsteady legs buckled. He used the wall for support, pushing himself upright with the arm covering his side, revealing the crimson dampening his shirt. “A-are you okay?”
“You’re hurt,” she whispered vacantly, glancing between the blood soaking through his clothing and the deceased opponent. “Why are you not in the room?”
“I almost… I ran into him when I came out to help and managed to wrestle the gun away,” he explained, warily accepting the dismissal of his mistake before checking the injury. He poked at his ribs with a claw, hissing through a grimace before shaking his head. “It stings, but it’s just a graze. What about you? Are you hurt? Is the elevator clear? We need to go back down.”
Sunundra blinked, a scowl of disapproval joining the tone of concern. “Help? Down? No! You are injured! I ordered you to hide!”
He took a defiant step closer, only still standing because she was there to catch him. His arm rested over her shoulder as he steadied himself, the dregs of endorphins leaving him unbalanced and shaking. He pursed his lips, determination colouring his voice. “I watched the video. If…that is what they’re doing, then I can’t just sit still while you run off into danger. There are others here, and we need to help as many as we can.”
“Bill, the enemy will act quickly,” she insisted, stopping herself from agreeing with him through a painful bite of her tongue. The bond pushed her to protect—to act and assist—though it was a terribly stupid thing to think of. “We can consider the others once we have escaped.”
“We can't just leave them!”
Her ears were assaulted by the voice of the only one she would ever be accepted by, her core traitorously mirroring the demand as her own. Everything within her wanted to comply. She wanted to comply…but they couldn't.
“W-we need only flee to Iras. Then, we will alert my people to the crimes being committed,” she proposed pleadingly, hoping beyond hope that he would see reason. “Bill, we are too few, too underequipped, and in no state to stage a rescue within enemy territory.”
His gaze hardened with disappointment. “Then I'll go alone.”
“…What?”
He bitterly separated from her, walking past with a shambling gait as he clutched the wound on his ribs.
“Bill, it is too dangerous!” She reached out to stop him, yet he harshly shrugged off her paw, violently spinning on the spot.
“That's why I'm going!” His ire faltered when he saw her flinch, his tone and anger hurting her more than any wound. Shame forced him to look away and clench his jaw. “What kind of father would I be if my boys learned that their old man found out about this, and didn't even try to do anything? The world has enough of an ‘all for themselves’ mentality. I don’t want them to…”
The reflection within grew clouded with doubt and fear. There it was, the reason for his reaction surfacing from beneath the fragile veneer of confidence. Sunundra closed the meagre distance, taking his paw within her own. He didn’t acknowledge the contact, though gently returned the squeeze.
The enemy, the facility, the impending reinforcements… It all faded away as she became lost in the pain he had let slip, wanting nothing more than to heal the wound that time had left behind. How foolish…yet how necessary. Her tail moved to wrap around his waist, securing what was hers so as to never lose it.
Her voice came out soft and filled with the desire to understand. “What, Bill? What do you not wish for?”
A wetness lent a shimmer to his visage, the depth of terror pulling him deeper and deeper. A fear of failure gnawed at his throat, the pressure on her heart sitting with a familiar weight.
“They…grew up without a mother, Sunshine. Maybe half a father, at best. Yet no matter how hard it was for them, they've always… They’ve always just smiled and said everything was okay, even when it wasn’t… Whenever things went south, and they needed help, they'd just shut down any offer I made, sarcastically going on about how they just wanted to make me proud—that I had it hard enough without them adding to it. It was a lighthearted joke…”
A droplet of shame fell from his cheek, echoing for eternity within the confines of the soul like a cry for help that was never answered.
“I never actually said that I was,” he admitted with a mirthless laugh. “I spent so long worrying about them that I never stopped to just…let them know… Alli was always the one to do that; I just tried to make sure they had a home to come back to…”
He wiped at the tears with his wrist, smearing a light stain of crimson on his cheek. “Hell, I'm still worried. They say that everything's fine, but I got used to the tone they use when they don't want ol’ dad to stay up late thinking about it. They see me as some…sad man, hopping from job to job while trying to scrape by. It's probably true, but honestly, I just wanted to live long enough to see them happy—to have what I could never give them. I want them to have an actual family rather than the shambles they were forced to grow up with.”
“Bill, you cannot recklessly put yourself in harm's way,” she begged quietly. “We must leave for you to rectify your mistake. Now is not the time to disregard your safety for the sake of others.”
“If not now, then when?” he asked wetly. “If I turn away here, then all I'm doing is turning down people in need. Who's to say that the Union won't just execute everyone to cover this up? What then? It'll be our word against theirs, and I'll have run when I could have done something.”
“The recording—”
“—What if they don't accept it, huh?” he pressed, his grasp around her claws tightening. “I don't know about your people, but humans have gotten pretty good at fabricating videos from basically nothing. All the Union has to do is drag out some random citizen's render, and our proof becomes ‘slander.’ They will, and it’ll be the first thing they do. Then, we'll be accused of trying to sabotage everything and left to rot in prison…or killed before we get there…”
The defect opened her mouth wordlessly, the possibility of his claim sinking in, yet he pulled her into an embrace before the panic could begin spiralling out of control. She drew an anxious breath, steeping in the smell of stress and regret, drawing comfort from the warmth as her tail tightened around him.
“I can't just leave and have my boys hear that their father disappeared without a trace after trying to sabotage relations between species. And I couldn't live with myself knowing that I had a chance to stop this, but cared more about myself,” he murmured, the rumbling words reverberating in the ear pressed against his chest. “They grew up trying their hardest, keeping problems to themselves, and quietly fighting every battle life threw at them…all so they could avoid making me worry.”
He loosened his hold, not bothering to clear the sorrow dripping off his face, even when she looked up at him with their faces mere fractions apart. “I want to be the man they thought I was, Sunshine. I want to be the suffering hero they saw when their mother passed. I don't want to be ‘sad’ and ‘barely getting by’; I want to live up to those expectations. I want to be a father they can be proud of, so I can finally say just how proud I am of them.”
“It is far too dangerous,” she whispered. It was a weak denial of what had already been decided; there was affection clouding her vision, her eyes wandering his features as his own roamed hers. An unspoken tension built between them, expectation building with no obvious outlet. “Is there no other way?”
The human shook his head with a sardonic grin. “Not for me, no. If you think leaving is best, then you can, and I won’t stop you. I'm… I’m going to do everything I can for those people. I know it’s selfish and stupid, but…I stand a better chance if you’re there to help me.”
She felt the dampening fur and wistful smile on her muzzle, a warmth persisting through how much she hated how foolish the plan was. The answer was obvious: deny his folly and drag him to the hangars. Yet she almost mewled at hearing his reluctant request—at trust and desire warring against his concern for her well-being… At the comfort he gained from having her near…
“This soul has been bound by the Mother, Bill; her faithful will follow her other, no matter where that might be.”
His wistful smirk grew from the ashes of sorrow, the infinitesimally small distance between them closing unexpectedly. His paw moved to hold her cheek as he kissed her. It was so tender, the display of deep gratitude and affection woefully ending far too soon.
Bill separated first, his face tinting a shade of red that she was coming to find particularly endearing. He bashfully cleared his throat, nervously glancing at the deceased security member and the weapon he had dropped. He stiffened, a flood of bonded fear slamming into her like a runaway transport.
A dulled bang shattered the moment.
Enemy. Danger. Now!
She ripped Bill to the side with her tail and drew her firearm. The alien that her bond had confronted was still on the floor, though no longer playing dead, instead weakly holding a secondary weapon towards them as smoke listed off the end of the barrel.
Her pistol’s sights centred on its head. Her claw pulled the trigger. Its viscera splattered outward.
Yet everything still felt wrong.
“Oh…” Bill’s mumbled confusion coincided with the muted scent of emptiness, her focus snapping to her bond.
Everything came to a screeching halt, adrenaline-laced blood freezing as she watched him uncover a fresh wound just under his rib.
Crimson rapidly spread throughout his shirt, his paw hesitantly raising for him to inspect the sheen of red ichor with a frown before he stumbled backwards into the wall. He flashed her a wry grin marred by terror.
“H-hey, Sunshine? I don’t… I don’t think this one's a graze…”