Chapter 117: Sweep
The Atmo finished their checkups pretty quickly, all things considered. Those who needed to see the ship’s doctors after that ended up either having mostly superficial cuts, or long fractures of their shells which had gone without notice. It was a shock to know that the second group even existed, but once it was explained to him that the cracks were too fine to notice without imaging, he accepted their insistence on it not being as big of a deal—though not without worry.
The crew was well equipped to work on the insects, their exoskeleton being close enough to other species that the materials available worked fine for treatment. Now that two of the hexapods were walking around with off-colour sections grafted over troublesome areas—and he was promised that the patches would hold until their natural shell mended—the Atmo could start helping around the settlement again. The only change was that they were advised not to carry any absurd loads until the damage healed.
It led to him lugging things around whenever he had a spare moment. The pack assured him that they didn’t need the help, but they would also rather he stay in his office just looking important. Seeing as he had no intention of sitting on his ass while so many of them were hurt, and there was still plenty to be done, he set about working up a sweat carrying boxes where they needed to be. By the fifth trip, he had got in a surprising amount of exercise, his sweat cooling in the early-autumn air.
Joseph laid down the crate in the den he had been directed to, the contents being an allotment of clothing and sundries. Idee was kind enough to rush it out to replace whatever was torn up by the fight or ruined by the aftermath. None of it was to the same quality she usually produced—something she made sure to highlight with annoyance in her voice—but they deserved to have something to wear that wasn’t stained with blood or shredded.
The apparent need for outfits also sparked a trend amongst those who were unable to help out while recovering; from leg injuries to strained bodies, a chunk of the pack simply couldn’t work as they’d like to. Lacking a tangible way to assist with the cleanup and repairs, they asked the two seamstresses if they could learn some basics and try the craft themselves. Both Pan and Idee were on board with the suggestion, quickly bringing those willing into the sewing room and teaching them how to make the more simple garments which were in short supply.
He found it pretty amusing to see some of the more gruff security members gingerly threading quills with fine palm strings. It also gave everyone a way to feel useful—save for the couple Lilhuns still on the ship recovering from their surgeries, but he went as far as directly ordering them to rest. Considering he never actually used his authority for much of anything, being commanded to stay in bed and relax was taken with the same serious acceptance as if he had told them that the Hunt Mother herself demanded it.
He paused his stretching as the thought crossed his mind. In a way, she did—assuming they treated their ‘Guardian’ as an extension of their goddess’ will.
Did he give a divine ordinance just so his pack wouldn’t rip their stitches?
A shake of his head dismissed the troubling revelation. If it took him embracing the absurd titles foisted upon him for them to take their health seriously, then he would find the Lilhun equivalent to a pope hat and threaten damnation. He would feel like an idiot the whole time, but they could be aggravatingly obstinate when it came to some things.
Not entirely unlike the owner of a particular peppermint scent that stood in the doorway, her bronze-coloured fur complimented by the silver whip used as a sash around the attire Wraiths wore when ‘off duty.’
“Kaslin,” he greeted with a huff, working out the kink in his back after confirming that the box wasn’t going to get in the way of whichever group lived there. He used to know off-hand, but things kept growing, and he was more than happy to let Sahari keep track of the minutia. “Need something?”
“Greetings, Blademaster.” He stiffened at the title. “There has been a minor altercation I believed you would wish to know about.”
His face sunk to meet cupped hands, blowing out his frustrations through a long breath. His fingers rubbed his eyes as he wondered if he would ever get to relax for more than a single day without something going wrong. Two defeated arms dropped to his side, the dead stare accompanying the exhausted tone.
“What happened?”
“The High Huntress threatened your sibling,” she reported dutifully. “No harm came from it, but I believed it worthy of note. It was a rather irate display”
His brow furrowed, head tilting in confusion. “She went off on him?”
“Yes, Blademaster.”
“Why?”
The Wraith shook her head, almost letting her indifference slip out. “I am unaware of what triggered it. My priority was following my orders rather than eavesdropping.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled. For someone who stuck to all the prim and proper ‘respectful’ language and titles, she had a penchant for sarcasm and attitude. If she didn’t do such a good job, he probably would have had an issue with it. But, she was right, he asked her to keep watch over his brother in case something happened. She didn’t need to be listening in on every mundane conversation for that.
“Whatever,” he finally conceded. “Where is she now? I’ll talk to her.”
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Though he was expecting the red-furred actress to be fuming at the lodge, he ended up pointed to a den that he hadn’t stepped into since it was first constructed. It wasn’t much of a surprise for him to only know the buildings before the pack moved in—he didn’t make a point of stopping by people’s places. Not that he hadn’t been invited, but when he was, it usually had some subtext involved that he wasn’t interested in.
The brief musing was pushed aside as he tightened his face into a stern expression. He was there to figure out whatever the hell caused her to go off, because he thought that they had reached an understanding.
A volatile, sarcastic understanding fuelled by glib remarks and insults, but an understanding nonetheless. Assuming she wasn’t just testing the Martian to get a feel for his character, it meant that either Robert stepped over a line, or Mi’low really was as xenophobic as she pretended to be on occasion. He doubted the second option, but making sure was exactly why he was there.
He walked up to the door, hesitating as he faintly heard something he knew wasn’t simply the argumentative female ranting. In fact, he almost turned on his heel and set off to ask his brother first, hoping that he could just pretend he didn’t know what was happening while he killed time. Unfortunately, he wanted to hear her story before he got the human perspective, and there was still a lot to do before nightfall; kicking around while waiting for the metaphorical sock on the door to be removed wasn’t going to fly.
Taking a breath and reminding himself that he wouldn’t have needed to barge in on this if she hadn’t lost her shit in the first place, he tugged the door open, closing it behind him while wearing the most cold and commanding expression he could. His eyes flicked to the pair in the act as it took every ounce of his self-control not to abort the idea. Biting the bullet, he walked with a controlled stride to the chair across the room, sitting down calmly and folding his hands on the table. His gaze swept to them, thankful that at least one had the sense to look as uncomfortable as he felt—enough to take the hint and put a stop to things, anyway.
It was a pretty nice place, activities of the occupants notwithstanding. The front door was in the corner of the building, opening straight into a dining area that doubled as something of a long living room. A kitchen with an island counter functioned comfortably for any cooking to the right, and three doors remained closed on the wall he sat next to, opposite the entrance—though which were bedrooms or storage, he wasn’t sure.
Mi’low leered at him through hazy eyes as she braced herself on the countertop facing the rest of the living space, her breathing heavy. Joseph kept his disappointment visible, ignoring the complete lack of modesty of both her and Kelth. He figured they were a thing, but confirming this way was a bit much. He supposed it could be a more casual affair—it wasn’t like it was uncommon for any Lilhun, let alone her—but something told him there was more to it. Lacking the same sense of smell, he would have to ask someone else if there were marks in place later. It was nice to get answers to some questions.
...Minus the hour or so of burying himself in Pan and Tel’s fur it’s going to take to push the image out of his head.
“Came to seek my comfort, Grand Hunter?” the crimson-furred female asked, the...exertion leaving her attempt to seem amused a bit flat. He didn’t respond, staring the two down until the cook hesitantly got dressed and left, whispering something into Mi’low’s ear on his way out.
She waited until the door closed behind Kelth to return her attention to the matter at hand, opting to keep her position and just adjusting herself to be a bit more comfortable, her arms crossing on the counter while keeping her chest on display. A smirk played at her lips, but he had been reading their body language long enough to notice both the annoyed flick of her tail, as well as the expectant ears pointed at him. Though, how much was in regards to the conversation he was here to have, and how much was due to his interruption, he couldn’t say—not that he cared to think too deeply on it.
She waited a bit longer for him to say something, but he knew giving her anything to work with would just mean playing her game until either he brute-forced past it, or she got fed up with his insistence. Skipping straight to her getting impatient with a nonplussed reaction to her provocative posturing was easier.
The High Huntress’ wilful ignorance faded over several seconds, her attempt at ignoring the issue ending with a sigh. Without the layer of a proverbial mask she typically wore, she pushed herself upright, her arms covering her stomach defensively as she walked over to take a place at the table opposite of him. At least his decision to enter when he did had some effect on her; he could almost pretend that he hadn’t picked the worst timing for this conversation. Or maybe the best, if he considered that she didn’t have as much time to prepare anything.
“Seeing as it appears you have no intention of accepting my offer, I take it that you have something less entertaining to discuss?”
“Your outburst,” he answered flatly, mentally returning her exasperation when she insisted on foregoing clothing. Mi’low’s already unimpressed expression soured.
“Come to deliver my punishment?”
“Nope. At least, not yet.” He leaned back in the chair, slinging one arm over the backrest. He looked around the den casually. “I’m here to find out what caused it.”
She relaxed slightly, her eyes only a shade sharper than usual. “It would be faster to pass judgment, no?”
“Probably,” he admitted with a shrug. He let the agreement linger in the air for a moment, cycling a breath as he dropped the dispassion. “But, I know you better than that. You’re a lot of things, but stupid isn’t on that list. Since you didn’t give me reasoning for why acting like that would tell us something useful, it means you genuinely got worked up. You’re too measured otherwise—too careful of how you come off. Starting shit with my family is pretty high up on the list of stupid. Something you are fully aware of.”
He extended his arm forward, palm up as if to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Which is why I’m here to ask: what happened?”
She glared at him, her ears flattening slowly. Eventually, his hand dropped to the table, prompting both a long exhale and her response. “He mocked the cinders my old settlement had become while discrediting your leadership—and by extension, our faith. I will not ask for forgiveness for slighting that which we follow both in form and in spirit.”
Joseph let her answer sink in, adjusting himself to rest both elbows on the table, leaning forward. The skeptical furrow of his brow said enough, but he put words forward just in case. “Robert openly made fun of people losing their dens to a fire...to a person who lost their entire settlement in a fire? And what’s this about jabbing at your religion?”
She tensed slightly at the incredulous tone, taking a moment to decide which of the two questions to address first. “As much as you wish to play ignorant, you are fully aware of how your followers see you. There were such times that I wished not to be an Aspect as well, but one must accept what the Hunt Mother has ascribed to them.”
He noted her confidence reassert itself, her firm words hammering home her sincerity.
“Those within your walls see hope and protection in your presence, Grand Hunter, and though you dismiss the importance, we do not. In your domain, we have something worth risking life and limb to hold—a place worth losing everything for, so that others we cherish might keep it. I, and many others, will not accept blatant disregard for that. To discredit that which our kin had died for is the same as discrediting their sacrifice, and to denounce our loyalty to the Essence that the Hunt Mother bestowed upon her weary kits. Abandoned and broken, she saw fit to save us, and give shelter to all who remained faithful. None shall bring into question its sanctity. Not without consequence.”
Her eyes shifted away from him, a hint of remorse staining her voice. “As for the fire, I admit that I had perhaps extrapolated a touch too far. I acknowledge that your relationship with him may perhaps permit such superfluous slander such as implying incompetence, but to speak such in the wake of those who perished so that the rest may continue under your rule... I found it unforgivable in the moment, and distasteful even now.”
Joseph sat, his mouth open with genuine surprise at her candour. To have the prickly bitch ‘bring out the claws’ for an insult wouldn’t have been too surprising—he would have just berated her and forced her into some sort of timeout for a while—but to go off because he was the target of said insult? That was...
Honestly, he was touched.
The two of them certainly had their moments. Sometimes they would act in tandem, her skills as an actress playing the devil’s advocate to whatever he was suggesting so as to feel out the room. Other times, they would argue or just glare at each other when their opinions clashed. Regardless of how broad their spectrum of interactions was, she had been a great help keeping things running. He would go to bat for her whenever he needed to, should such a situation come up. Hell, he already had on a number of occasions—not that he mentioned it to her.
Just knowing that she felt the same begrudging...whatever they wanted to label it, it softened his expression to caring consideration.
“I...” He struggled to find the words he wanted to say.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t given a chance to.
“Grand Hunter!” The door to the den swung open, one of the hunters who worked under Mi’low looking like he wasn’t quite certain if their leader would be in the High Huntress’ den. The expression on his face turned to relief at having found the Human, then surprised to see him with the bare female. “T-there’s... ah...”
“Speak clearly, you fool,” the crimson-furred female spat, at least showing a modicum of shame by shifting her arms from her stomach to her chest. The flick of her ear followed the rushed words and defensive posture.
“Y-yes! There are others approaching the gate.”
Any remains of the possibly tender moment shattered as Joseph once again wondered what he did to deserve the unending stress. His fingers found his temples, rubbing circles as he hoped the usual security healed up just that much faster. It saved the extra questions.
“Who, how many, and what arms?” he rattled off.
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“Five of no affiliation make themselves known, but the Wraiths claim more hide in the brush, unarmed. The only one with a weapon is the male seeking an audience with you, and that is but a sword.”
Oh? Setting aside that the girls were apparently public knowledge amongst his pack now—they were more-or-less forced to interact with them for the assault on the settlement—the people coming here only having a single weapon was curious. Was there some plan to rush them once he went to the gate, or were they desperate and scared? Maybe it was a show of good faith?
No, if literally only one of them had anything on hand, then things were either dire, or they knew they were possibly being watched and ditched everything before getting here. He could be wrong, but the Wraiths would have gathered to keep an eye on things. If they had guns and the...visitors didn’t, then he could afford to relax a bit.
Hopefully, no one was going to demand another duel for the right to live in the settlement. He shot a glance to the participant of the previous incident where just that occurred. He was far less worried about it now, and had far less patience for anyone’s bullshit.
His hands dropped to his lap as he nodded to the hunter. “I’ll be there. I don’t think things will get out of control, but have the temporary security armed and ready to respond if needed.”
“It will be done, Grand Hunter.”
“And you,” he continued, waiting for the door to close again before he reluctantly dragged his gaze over to Mi’low. Her chest was still covered, but that only let him see what she was hiding. “...You’re hurt.”
It was a fairly short wound, but the crude stitching told him all he needed to know—he had seen enough the other night to take a guess at what caused it. She was either stabbed by a narrow blade, or shot by an arrow.
The actress shifted her arm lower to cover the poorly treated injury, scowling at him defiantly. “You need not concern yourself with something so trivial.”
“Let me see it.”
“Must you coddle all who come within—“
He got up, pulling her arm out of the way with one hand while bracing her shoulder with the other. She didn’t make any further efforts to hide it from him, knowing he would absolutely parade her naked ass to the ship if she kept being stubborn—over his shoulder, if necessary.
“Why hasn’t this been looked at?” he asked in a level tone. The start of a suggestive smirk spread on her muzzle at his forceful handling, but the intensity of his gaze caused it to falter, dismantling whatever distraction she had in mind. She turned her head away bitterly.
“As I said, you need not concern—“
“Mi’low.”
The High Huntress flinched, her scowl deepening in direct proportion to her quieting voice. “They need strength. Now more than ever.”
He released her arm, feeling around the wound gently. It was inflamed and sore, based on the wince she failed to keep off her face. “So being strong means getting hurt, then letting it get infected? I’ll add it to my notes.”
She pushed him aside as she stood, gathering her clothing from the floor and tossing it on with her back to him. “Your pack should be revelling in the elimination of an enemy, Grand Hunter, yet they are morose and languid.”
He crossed his arms as he watched with concern. “We lost people, Mi’low. There’s nothing wrong with mourning that.”
Her fist crashed into the countertop, not quite turning her head enough to glower in his direction. “And we should celebrate what their loss has given us!”
“No,” he denied quietly. His eyes fell downward, the tension leaving his shoulders before he returned his focus. “I know you don’t believe that.”
His words were enough to warrant facing him, the crimson-furred female glaring daggers and speaking in a mocking tone. “Is that so? The Human knows my kind so well? My faith?”
“I know you.”
Mi’low’s hardened exterior faltered with the finality in his voice, internal conflict showing through. Slowly, the facade of outrage fell.
“We both know there’s something deeper going on in your head here,” Joseph sighed, unsure of how much of a delay he was causing outside. Screw it, every other Grand Hunter ran things on their own timetable.
“Your words have a purpose, I hope.”
He ignored the flaccid jab. “You’re as torn up as anyone else. How couldn’t you be? I got the reports back; you were one of the last to evacuate the clinic, on top of taking a shot making sure no one else did.” He gestured to the injury, the very edge of it barely peeking past the leather and fabric of her top before she tugged the garment down further. The blood was still visible along the edges, the fur stained a slightly darker hue.
“I was doing my duty.”
“That’s all you’ve ever done, Mi’low,” he criticized softly. “I’ve been told it, and now I’m telling you; stop trying to sacrifice yourself.”
“I do no such—“
“—you sent the Heads of your settlement somewhere else in hopes they’d survive an alternative to a plan that even you thought was suicidal, just because those who stayed were too stubborn to leave you behind. You’re constantly putting yourself at odds with whoever has more power than you, just to take the heat away from whatever arguments are happening with those you’re responsible for.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you—“
“—Atrox talked to Mama, Mama talked to Violet, and Violet talked to me,” he explained with a tinge of sadness, tipping his head to the side. “I didn’t say anything about it because it looked like you were more comfortable picking at me than if I just told you not to worry about it.”
Finally, the persisting wisps of confrontation faded from her visage, replaced by an expression of uncertainty and hesitation. “I am the Smoke, Aspect of Guidance. To what purpose do I serve if not to mask those loyal to me from opposition? My enemies should know little, my allies should continue without concern of subterfuge, and nothing should elude my notice, for the smoke encompasses all.” She lingered on a thought, her eyes shifting hopelessly. “...What place do we have in your future, Joseph?”
He blinked, the use of his name catching him off balance. “What?”
The High Huntress looked at him with a plea for answers. “As grand a boon as your kin reaching us may be, what becomes of us now? The ship may fit many, surely, but not all of us. Who do you leave behind when you abscond away to parts unknown? Which of those—the ones who hold allegiance to that which you command—are going to watch as their Grand Hunter...no, their Guardian disappears, trapping them with naught but prayer and wistful wish?” A mirthless chuckle slipped from her lips. “Could you even do as much? Will any of us follow into the sanctuary you represent?”
“Mi’low—“
“Your people are of the Union, Joseph. Your kin are beholden to that which seeks our end, even if you alone operate beyond it. Is it not folly to deliver us upon their door? Try as you might, you would still be harbouring those who would never know a single sun without fear of everything crashing down around them.”
She turned her gaze away, an almost hurt expression worn. “What would be the outcome? Here, we face much the same, but you have gripped a place with claws and kindness for those without. We have learned to weather the climate, thrive against the fauna, and... For the first time—since we were attacked as a species for what we may become—we have known unity. No longer are trivial variations in genetics cause for war amongst our own. Now, we find what the Union feared we would, and I see not that of a scorned people, but of the truly content. The hopeful.”
The crimson-furred female smiled softly, gesturing broadly. “When our reality without...this is such that we must face a return to what we were—to a life of mindless vengeance against that which we would not survive... What will you decide when your kin leaves? Will you join them, abandoning us to our fate with naught but the walls you helped construct to remind us of what once was?”
He reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder—to answer her worries as much as he could—but she deflected it gently, walking past him to the door.
“I need not reassurances...Grand Hunter. I need little more than for you to have heard me. To hear that which your pack is too fearful to face. Once I leave this building, this conversation will never have happened, and we will claim our titles once again.” She straightened her posture, her breath hitching as pain struck for a moment. “I will meet you at the gate; if nothing else, it will hopefully make up for the distraction you interrupted in its capacity for entertainment. I would prefer if next time you were to at least do this female the kindness of continuing that which you cease, no?”
The High Huntress shot him a smirk and a wink before leaving him in the den by himself, suddenly faced with far more to consider than if the people outside were a threat.
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The orders came in, but none of the crew were particularly ecstatic about them. Then again, they were soldiers, so no one cared if they were.
Comms and Nav went through the process of clearing their departure with the ships just beyond orbit, as well as the other shuttles which would act as transport for the two settlements that were assigned. Willin and his group were chosen to retrieve Joseph—probably due to the fact that they were the least likely to be shot on sight. They had the most extensive rapport with the alien Grand Hunter, after all.
It didn’t make the upcoming discussion and request any more appealing for the dark green-furred male, his notes scrolling on his terminal as he adjusted his jacket absently. It was one thing for him to be keeping the Human company while also staving off his own boredom, but having the undoubtedly tense atmosphere lingering over the transit was going to be taxing. More so, once the limitations were voiced.
The delegates for each settlement—and in this particular case, species—were limited in who they could take with them. Ostensibly, it was to ease the number of people being ferried from place to place. In actuality, it didn’t take much thought to conclude that the UM wanted to have the largest amount of guns on the ground to discourage any more reckless ideas.
He doubted that they would use the opportunity as an ambush, but one couldn’t completely dismiss the concept. He knew that Joseph wouldn’t miss that—being as paranoid as he was—which made the upcoming conversation that much more unpleasant.
If nothing else, they were given the leeway of a few suns for the Grand Hunters to select their escorts and to prepare their packs for their absence during the congressional. It struck as much less severe if the decisions weren’t expected to happen at a moment’s notice, so hopefully ‘tense’ was going to be the worst of the moods experienced.
“Tech,” he called over the internal relay, getting a grumble in response. He felt guilty waking her up, but she had been so busy doing...something with her system that she had gone far past neglecting rest, and he needed her to run diagnostics before they could leave. The trip should only take them to moonrise at the latest—assuming they took their time to avoid alarming any ground forces—and then he would likely split her shift with the other two so that the purple-furred female could actually catch up on the sleep she had been wilfully ignoring.
“What?” she slurred back. A notification on his screen informed him of several pulls regarding the ship’s integrity, security footage, and even any recent medical records related to the crew. There was a brief pause until a new project for the fabricator was added to the queue—a new pair of boots in his size, with additional support factored into them.
He huffed a laugh. The notion that his gear was ill-suited for the terrain had only submitted the sun prior, and she went through the trouble of addressing the issue before she could even respond coherently.
“Is it food?” Tech followed up, sounding a bit more awake.
“No food, I’m afraid. Orders.”
“Dammit.”
“Agreed,” he sighed. “We need a full scan of everything before we can— Ah, thank you.”
“Shouldn’t take too long,” she mumbled, belting out a surprisingly loud yawn for someone using a modulator to speak. “I’ll be up in a bit. Need to wash up first.”
He nodded, reminding himself they were only using audio before voicing his acknowledgement. Closing out the communication, he revisited his summary of their reports as he waited for the checks to run in the background.
Personality analysis, relevant passages from the various scriptures that reference the Aspects, and any condensed notation from interviews were pulled up, examined, then closed in favour of going over the specifics of their assignment.
Pick up the delegates, transport them to a predetermined location in neutral territory that the UM would prepare during the wait, then standby until either the agreements had been made, or until something forced their paw. Nested in each point was several guidelines and rules to abide by, ranging from specifying the number of acceptable guards, to the amount of provisions and personal weaponry that they would turn a blind eye to.
Of course, any explosives were to be denied, but low-energy plasma-casters and melee armament was within tolerance. Willin got the feeling those first two were directed towards Sunundra and Trill, but seeing them make a written consideration for the claw-less biped was interesting. It was certainly in his observations on the male, but he distinctly remembered clarifying that the Grand Hunter was also largely credited for his acumen in regards to unarmed close quarters combat. Granted, they didn’t have much to support those claims, so he supposed allowing the Human something to defend himself was an act of kindness.
Not that it would do much good against a pistol or CARD. Non-lethal or otherwise.
His musings fell back to the reminder of several regular protocols that had seen small revisions since they were last in contact with the main fleet. What to do in the event of a breach in low-atmosphere, a minor tweak in the frequency of regular medical examinations by both systems and certified crew, and an addition on fire suppression that looked to have been copied or written separate from the rest of the document—the minor difference in font size nagging at him until he identified it. With a dismissal of the curiosity, he saw the notification for their systems passing all the checks, and signalled Nav to start everything up.
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“I’m alive,” Tech announced lazily, the slight dampness of her fur and mild dragging of her feet ensuring the others that her statement was only true by technicality. Willin smirked at the drained female, earning a disapproving frown that tugged at her mask. She turned her chair, flopping into it and letting inertia spin her back towards her station, her arm resting on the console to support her head.
“Rest well?” Comms asked with a chuckle.
“No, but at least we’ll be done soon,” she sighed, bringing up various monitoring windows on one screen while another launched an entertainment program. “I want to stop at a station and actually relax.”
“Are you even permitted on most stations?” Nav queried, peering around their readouts with a raised brow. Tech glanced upwards in thought.
“Strictly speaking? No, but that’s something a bit of tinkering with their validation software can get around.”
Willin snorted, shaking his head. “That would be the exact reason the rule exists in the first place.”
“Not my fault their encryption sucks,” she grumbled, loading up a save from her last session. Sound leaked from her audio interface until a paw crept up to nudge it back into place.
“There are plenty of places you can go to unwind that don’t involve breaking military security measures.”
“Name one that isn’t just a sad place of people arguing about the old war.”
Willin closed his muzzle, contemplating it for a moment before Tech held out a paw as if she ‘won’ the discussion. “We could always visit my city,” he suggested, running out of other ideas. “My blood-parents were lucky enough to be assigned a monitoring station not far from their den, and I doubt they’d mind the company.”
The purple-furred female’s ears perked. “Taking me back to meet them?”
“We’re not supposed to—regulations and all—but if you’re ready to crack encryption just to lounge around on a secured station, then I’d say you could fake us spending time resting somewhere less interesting for the duration, no?” She paused her program, turning in her chair with a glint in her eye. “Shouldn’t be much extra effort to spoof the four tags.”
Her expression flattened with a sigh. “Yeah, I could do that. Not sure when we’ll get out of this though.”
Nav furrowed their brow, the distinct change from the passively amused listening catching both of their attention. Willin pushed his terminal out of the way, leaning forward in his chair. “Something wrong?”
Their eyes flickered to him, then returned to the console just as quick. “The readouts do not match what is expected. It is rather distorted...”
Tech stood from her station, slowly walking across the room and stretching. “I’ll run another set of scans. Mind if I take a look?”
Nav shrugged, shifting their screens for the other’s viewing. As soon as they did, the static they all had begrudgingly tolerated from the warp-spike returned, increasing in intensity at an alarming rate.
Comms quickly pulled away his earpiece, the shrill shriek of distortion playing loudly through it. “The warp-spike is active? I thought they calibrated it to avoid our systems?”
“I don’t know,” Willin admitted, his voice filled with cautious concern. They hadn’t brought it up with the others, but Tech was already waiting for his eyes to find her. She shook her head in a poor attempt to dismiss his worry, failing to hide the grimace. The ship stuttered in flight as the engines were affected next.
“Running protection programs,” she announced, bringing a paw up to her ear. Her expression became less controlled, her balance weakening. Fear overtook her face. “This isn’t the same as last time.”
“What do you— TECH!”
The screeches of Comms earpiece ceased, the distortion on Nav’s instruments cleared, and the flight resumed as if there was never a problem in the first place, but the purple-furred female collapsed on the spot, crumpling to the floor with pain in her eyes as her paws shot to her throat.
Willin fired himself out of his station, paying no mind to the expensive equipment that crashed to the ground in his wake. It only took two strides of slamming his feet into the metal hull for him to reach her, but even that was too long in his mind. He slid across the small distance between them, quickly but carefully pulling her up into his chest.
“Tech, talk to me! How bad is it?”
Nothing but choked gurgles came out in response, agony peering through her wandering focus. He hooked a claw behind her mask, flinging it across the bridge. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but she was surprisingly...normal. Maybe he thought he would see scarring or something, but all he saw was her muzzle desperately trying to swallow air as she finally looked at the ceiling pleadingly. He pressed down next to her own grip to get a pulse. It was terrifyingly weak—sporadic for a few beats before going still for a few more.
How much was tied to her augments? Her lungs? Heart? Was it full or partial modification? Replacements?
Dammit, he should know this! She was his crew! But the damn regulations required them to keep things to a bare minimum. He didn’t even have access to any detailed medical screenings, because it was all locked behind more layers of encryption than he could hope to bypass, even if he wasn’t currently in desperate need for it. The only one who could get through it was incapacitated in his arms. Without them, he couldn’t even scratch the surface of what she needed done. For all he knew, anything they had on paw could finish the job with standard doses. It never mattered before, because she would have whatever she might need brought up in the medical ward at a single thought. Without that, he was blind on how he could help.
Help...
He tucked another arm under her legs, grunting out an order as he pulled her up with him. “Nav! Distance to the settlement!”
The Navigation Officer jolted, yanking their screen back. “Approaching visual in ten.”
Too long. Far too long. He made his decision instantly. Protocol could rot for all he cared. His voice came out cold and commanding as he stared into Tech’s hazy eyes. “Push it. I want us there now.”
“That would only incite—“
“NOW, NAV!”
The ship pitched slightly as the adjustments were made and they tore through the atmosphere at a speed they were never supposed to go, the sonic boom almost definitely causing havoc on the living creatures below. Multiple warning lights flashed as the engines were forced to operate in conditions they couldn’t technically support.
He ‘technically’ couldn’t care less, the screaming alarms and dangerous red hues fading from his version of reality as he sprinted out of the bridge and towards medical. Her paw gripped for him like a lifeline as his rapid pace rocked her in his arms. Tears forced their way out through the pain of a body failing everything it tried to do to sustain itself. He clipped his shoulder as he burst into the only room they had aboard that might help her, laying her on the examination table and sweeping entire shelves to the floor as he searched for something, anything to keep her stable.
“Stay with me, Tech. Stay with me just a little bit longer. We’re getting help, okay? I’ll bargain with the Void itself if I have to, don’t worry. Just stay with me...”
He mentally made an offer to the goddess he never truly believed in; if she was real, and the Guardian was her chosen...he would give anything...everything. Just, please...please save her.