Chapter 121: Runt
The accommodations were surprisingly large, considering the apologies for the cramped place. Really, the only thing that could have warranted it was that there were only three bedrooms, and it struck him as odd for a species that only slept separately when activities would otherwise disrupt the group. Besides that, there was ample space for the twelve of them. It was actually kind of nice. There were tables, counters, chairs, and even proper windows with shutters instead of blinds. It was fully furnished, if supplied for a smaller group than they showed up with. They all wandered around, checking out the place they would be staying for a few nights, commenting on the refreshing red hue that most everything sported. He had gotten pretty used to the planet’s silver motif.
The human security guards pulled out some devices, fiddling with their tablets while wearing annoyed expressions. Volta reached into a bag she brought, producing a clean rag and wiping down surfaces to look busier than she had to. Silva simply inspected the architecture, mumbling to herself between chirps of wonder, while Violet and Rose made themselves comfortable in a corner and began chatting amongst themselves. The young Queen seemed to be teaching the larger Atmo how to read and write, based on the example text on the tablet she passed over every now and then.
“So,” Rob started, running his thumb over his engagement ring as he took in the interior. “How do we split the rooms?”
Joseph shrugged. It was a pretty obvious solution to him. “You and Sil take the left one, Steve and the other two take the middle, and we’ll take the end.”
The Martian raised a brow before he made the connection. “Oh, right. Cuddle puddle.”
The Grand Hunter tipped his head casually, noticing Scarlet and Tel feeling basically every surface. “It’s actually pretty comfortable. Tel, what’s up?”
His mate finished running her claws under a table, turning an ear as she moved to another ledge to inspect. “Simply checking for observation devices. Transmitters, video devices, proximity sensors, atmospheric analyzers and the like.”
His mouth closed in time with a heavy blink. “That...did not cross my mind.”
“Nothing on our equipment,” Steve reported, tapping a tablet against his wrist. “Well, it’s not exactly working the best. It’s all alien tech anyway, so who knows.”
Robert frowned, turning weary eyes to his brother. “Think they’ll manage?”
“Jax was security, Tel’s job was getting past it, Scarlet is like Tel,” Joseph listed, flipping up a new finger for each. He let his hand drop. “Honestly, if they don’t catch it, then it might be the Goddess herself watching us, for all we can do about it.”
Silva broke from her observations, her light blue feathers shimmering as she turned to him curiously. “You’ve made several references to...the ‘Hunt Mother,’ was it? I didn’t think you were religious.”
“I’m not,” he returned, nodding when Jax gave his ‘all-clear.’ “Well, hard to say now, actually. Spent too long needing something to save my ass here.” He shot the Trilaxin a wry grin. “When you’re shit out of luck and have a priest nearby, you start to think that it might be worth at least asking the divine for a favour.”
“I believe she would listen to her Guardian,” the black-furred male opined, flipping his axe to rest the head on the ground before leaning on it.
The avian tilted her head. “I really do need to speak with the priest at some point. It would be nice to have some history or lore for these titles.”
“Sorren will talk your ear off,” Joseph warned, pulling out a chair at a table Volta finished with. He let himself drop into it while Tel and Scarlet shifted to inspecting the bedrooms. “I tried asking about the whole ‘Guardian’ thing once, but there’s a pretty big story around it. He said he’d try to condense it when he gets the chance—leave the details for the devoted, so to speak. I had to deal with a fight before we got anywhere with it.”
Rob laughed, offering his fiancee a seat at the table in the middle of the room before taking his own while the pack did their thing. “I’m surprised they argue at all. They seemed pretty rigid with you around. Not stressed out or anything, just...careful?”
The Grand Hunter ran his fingers through his hair, smiling when Violet bounced at what he could only assume was successful Lilhun script written by Rose.
“Because none wish for his ire,” Tel supplied, sauntering up to resume her favourite role as a furry cape. She opted not to start nibbling at him, thankfully. “Disagreements are but the natural course of society, but fear of their better’s displeasure drives compliance.”
Joseph gave his mate a scathing glare. “Do you need to make it sound like I’m a tyrant?”
She giggled. “You have all the power at your disposal to be.” Her light kiss on his jaw disarmed his offended expression somewhat. “It is because you are not, that I allow you to know of my affections.”
“’I love you because you’re not a power-hungry asshole,’ is it?”
“Take it as you wish.”
He sighed, scratching at her chin and smirking at the way her eyelids drooped. It took a few moments for him to finally notice the amusement from the other couple. “You can laugh, I know how it looks.”
Rob placed an elbow on the table, pointing a finger at the couple. “It looks like you somehow stumbled into being in a happy relationship. How the hell you managed it with two women in the situation you’re in, I’ll never understand.”
Tel’s tail wrapped around his chest as she leaned into him more, grinning at the Martian and making a show of nuzzling into her mate. “Jealous, Robert? Wishing to taste that which you can not have? I am sure there are those of the pack who would gladly sate such desires, should you merely let it be known.”
“Nope!” Robert denied cheerily, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I’m happy with Sil, and I rather like not being blind!” He flinched, his eyes flicking to the Head of Security. “Sorry, Jax.”
“Worry not,” the black-furred male assured, waving a paw dismissively before moving his axe to rest against the wall. “I do not mind jests. My deficiencies were the cause of my injury; I wear that fact without hesitation. Your loyalty to a single partner is commendable, knowing what I do about your people.”
The Martian nodded in appreciation, pausing at a thought. “You’re just with Harrow, right? Anyone else catch your eye?”
“Rob, please don’t—“
“—Our Grand Hunter has proven to be quite the mate,” Jax interrupted shamelessly, chuckling at the guttural groan Joseph let out as he joined his weapon in relaxing. The elder brother made a poor attempt at suppressing his mirth.
“Yeah? Trying to make Joe swoon? I have some energy drinks in one of my bags...”
If it wasn’t for Tel holding him more-or-less in place, he would have dropped his head onto the table. Having Harrow and Jax rib at him was one thing—he had more than enough time to get used to their style of humour—but Rob adding fuel to that fire made it all the more unbearable. Still, he didn’t fight back the smile. It was nice to have them get along, even if it ended with him being the butt of a joke or two.
Tel giggled, directing her half-lidded gaze at him. “I don’t believe Jax could quite come to standard, despite how much he may wish to. If anything, he should worry if my male does find Harrow fetching enough to pursue.”
Welp, looked like he was going to be too busy wanting to disappear to worry about the UM. Silva joining in on the laughter didn’t help, either.
He sighed loudly, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling as they went on a few tangents—from discussing who was with who in the pack, to which members of the ship had received invitations. He was beginning to think he was free of their poking fun at his place in the pack, but someone made sure to drag the conversation back to it whenever he had more than a few blissful minutes to himself. It was his own personal hell of sex jokes and suggestive comments.
But he was glad that they were showing that they cared, in their own way. It helped keep his mind off the looming threats of stressful meetings and fate-deciding decisions.
...He could do without Tel offering some of the more private information, however.
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The building’s doors closed behind them, Rey’zel leading in the front, while Leader followed a few steps behind. The layers of security kept a tight grip on their guns, straightening as she passed like a wave of respectful drones that could only relax after she had entered another room.
‘Respectful.’
While she was dragging the male into a meeting in the wake of grieving, she could only feel like it was some patronizing display intended to cow any who did not fall within her ranks, but there was hardly much she could do about it.
The largest structure in the temporary encampment was the meeting hall—or in other words, her office, sleeping area, some miscellaneous storage, and an additional room on the main floor which was to accommodate the congressional. That was until far more participants brought with them the need to expand the space.
Quite a few of her subordinates were missing out on this moon of rest to make the adjustments in a timely manner—not that she would fare much better.
The second floor opened up before them as they climbed the last of the stairs, a long hallway presenting its choice of rooms to the right, and a single option for a viewing deck to the left. They skipped all of the doors until they reached her office, pushing it open and letting the dark green-furred male close it as she sat patiently behind her desk. The room mirrored the one on the ship, save for the general lack of metal hues she had grown used to. The faux red hardwoods of her home did little to offer a sincere feeling of nostalgia, no matter how many surfaces were constructed of it.
A dusky red desk, pale red floors, and the United Military ‘Claw of the UM’ insignia embossed into the wall behind her chair in black and gold, a singular large ‘tear’ design signifying her specific rank. It was ostentatious. It demonstrated power. It communicated to all who entered just how important the one they came to see was.
Right now, all it did was remind her why she was forced to rip into a grieving male for giving a member of his ship-pack a proper funeral.
The chair groaned under her weight—likely a chosen feature of the furniture, implying how much muscle and mass the opposing side was up against. For her, it just brought back memories of falling onto her back after shoddy seats failed to accommodate a Lilhun of her kin’s size. She had only her blood-father and early maturation to blame for that.
She folded her paws on the desk, allowing Leader to shrug off the box he kept a protective grip on. Gingerly—almost reverently—he placed it on the red surface before stepping back and offering his textbook posture of subservience. None of it reached his eyes. No, that amber gaze showed only anger and mourning. Rey’zel tapped at her terminal to bring up the report and start the audio recording.
“Leader one-four-four-five, as of three moons—local time—you reported the expiration of Tech one-one-nine-three. Is this correct?”
“It is, First Claw.”
She nodded absently, skimming over the details to make sure she covered the basics. “To reiterate on the information bundled with this debriefing, could you give a summary of the events leading up to, and following, her passing?”
Though she tried not to notice, every ounce of her guilty conscience zeroed in on the swallow from the male. The way his voice threatened to crack beneath the stoic exterior. The shaky breath and misted eyes.
“Of course, high one.” Leader shifted his footing, relaxing his posture now that the initial formalities were being disposed of. “During the sun of the reported expiration, we received orders to travel to Grand Hunter Joseph’s settlement and inform him of the impending congressional, as well as to lay out the terms and expectations for his attendance.”
“I believe the records of your ship-bound vital trackers detailed that Tech was resting during this time,” she supplied, focusing the discussion slightly.
“She was.”
“And why was this the case?”
He cleared his throat, the dryness making an airy sound. “We had arranged a rotation to monitor the ship’s sensors while awaiting orders. Her shift happened to align so that her time of rest coincided.”
Rey’zel brought up additional notes. “Your records also indicate that she had not been following this schedule, instead operating the minutiae of the ship’s functions for majority of her wakefulness. Do you know why?”
He smiled weakly. “She was as unnerved by being in the Blademaster’s domain as any of us, high one. I believe that she simply didn’t trust the automated surveillance around the ship.”
“And the continuous breach in security encryption protecting the medical records and monitoring of the crew?”
The male blinked, mild surprise showing through. “I...was not aware, high one.”
She leaned forward, a doubtful expression pulling her muzzle into a slight snarl. “You were unaware that she had unmitigated access to not only her own files, but yours and the other’s as well? You knew not that she recorded, notated, and even adjusted them down to nutritional allotments?”
A flicker of recognition passed by his face. The First Claw offered an open paw.
“You recall something of note, Leader?”
“I...can not say if it is related—“
“—I will be the one to determine such.”
“O-of course, high one,” he stammered, bowing his head in apology.
It tugged at her heart to see him fight past the sorrow to be hammered down like this, but neither of them would do well if she were to be too lax with him. All she could do was cleanly offer him a path that would answer all the important questions as quickly as possible, so that he could return to remembering his lost friend fondly.
“Tech has been making pulls for the medical tracking for as long as we have known her. It only ever resulted in subtle adjustments to things that benefited us, so we simply assumed that it was within her purview to tend to the health of the crew.”
“Benefits such as...”
He smiled, blinking heavily to dismiss the building dampness. His foot raised to show boots that had been modified past standard issue. “There was evidence of strain in my legs due to the harsh terrain of the planet when wearing my old attire. She adjusted the material and thickness in some areas to reduce or eliminate the concern.”
She hummed curiously. “And such...forward thinking alterations were common aboard your craft?”
The male winced, likely knowing the polite way to say ‘unauthorized modifications that might get you in serious trouble.’ “She has only ever shown concern for her ship-pack, high one.”
“I’m sure,” Rey’zel returned softly, allowing the genuine agreement appear in her tone. From the records pulled, there was never any evidence of tampering or malicious use of the information gathered. Just optimizations made here or there, and the occasional reference between scans to compare how her changes were affecting them. There was even a case to be made for dismissal of the concern, given that she only ever did as he claimed. Everything he was saying matched up perfectly with her psych profile.
Until the moon that the Smokeless Hunt hacked her ship, that is.
From the moment she noticed, and right up until her expiry, there were countless pulls of everything. Medical records, security protocol adjustment, and even flagrant disregard for the subtlety that had her previous escapades within the system go unnoticed for so long. She shifted from unapproved access that could be minimally punished, to breaching security clearances that even a Claw would need stacks of paperwork to bypass.
It was desperation. It was reckless.
What Tech may have been looking for or gathered, there was no way to tell—she had wiped everything that would suggest she had done more than break encryption. It was clear that she no longer cared about if anyone knew she had done so, and merely saved time by not bothering with the details. All that she left behind for a trail was the uncovered pulls on Leaders vital-tracking up to the moment she lost connection with the ship.
Rey’zel closed out that particular log. “You received orders, awoken her, then started towards his settlement, yes?”
“Correct, First Claw.”
She laced her claws, leaning forward. “And the sonic booms that followed?”
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“...We noticed some distortion in our equipment. Tech offered to look at it, but she...” His voice cracked, his lips drawing thin.
“Take your time.”
He nodded thankfully, but there was a scathing tint to his eyes. “...She clutched her throat as she fell. Her heart felt so weak. I ordered Nav to expedite the trip to Grand Hunter Joseph’s settlement in response, then carried her to the medical ward to find a way to help her. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know what would help her. I didn’t know what would kill her.”
The hurt and agony in his words made her guilt so much stronger. She couldn’t even hold up the facade of stoicism, softening her tone. “There are no records of a priority communication to the Smokeless Hunt. You could have requested access to her files in light of the events.”
He shook his head, biting back what he wanted to say. “I...wasn’t thinking clearly, high one.”
She hummed a note in understanding. It wasn’t the best thing to say during a recording, but she could play with the details or embellish some things to smooth it over. “As for your decision to hurry to the...’humans,’ was it?”
“Yes, high one. Grand Hunter Joseph has a recorded history of assisting Lilhuns without pause. His pack is composed mostly of those pulled from the depths of the Void, and they follow him ardently for it.”
“And you assumed as much could be said for yourself and Tech, two members of an opposing faction that previously—and I am referencing an interview file linked with the report—suggested that the UM may impose a mandate for reintegration on his pack.”
Surprisingly, Leader smiled. “Yes, I did.”
“And you were correct, it seems,” she replied dryly, shifting back in her chair. “I am curious where that confidence came from, but seeing as it is outside of the scope of this meeting, we will overlook it in the interest of brevity. You arrived at his settlement, left the ship, then by moonrise are recording the funeral rites. What happened during the interlude?”
The fondness drained from his face. “She was taken to a medical tent staffed by humans and...’Trilaxin,’ if memory serves. The avian that accompanied them here is of that species.”
“Another Union aligned race, I presume.”
He actually paused in his agreement. “If I may speak freely?” She nodded curiously. “We have proceeded under the rightful assumption that the Union was as named—a monolithic entity that sought our demise—but...through our interactions, I cannot help but feel that there are far more than those two species who wish to amend the trespasses of their leadership.”
“So you’re saying that you feel those two species are sinless?” she challenged, more intrigued than angry.
“I feel that those who I have met are, and believe there may be more who seek understanding rather than bloodshed.”
“Interesting,” she allowed, making a note of it on his file. “The medical tent?”
“Of course, high one. They did what they could, but they lacked the ability to repair her organs.”
Rey’zel’s eyes snapped to him. “They are aware of the modifications?”
He shook his head slowly, unconcerned. “They are aware she had been modified, but nothing was in a state that could be reverse-engineered or identified—not that they were of time to do so. Their equipment was experiencing...severe malfunctions at the time. They were quick to inform me of it so I could make my peace and prepare for the funeral. I watched them set the pyre...”
She gave him a weary glare as he gestured to the box on the desk, urging her to check the contents. She did, sliding it closer before carefully opening it after the scanner built into the table detected no traps.
There they were, as documented. Pieces of or full organs populated the container; heart, liver, lungs, kidneys... Everything that had been replaced, modified, or improved. Whatever wouldn’t burn in a fire, anyway.
“Submitting low-intensity scans of contents returned to the UM as an attachment to the file.” She closed the box after allowing the attachments to finish, pushing it to the side. It took a moment for her to find her voice again. “To reiterate: Tech expired, you retrieved the recording equipment, then—as the file shows—watched the rites, gathering her remains before storing them aboard your ship.”
“Yes, high one.”
“And you confirmed that the deceased was Tech?”
His face distorted into a grief-ridden grimace, sending a fresh pang of guilt through her. Her only reprieve was that she was required to clarify even the most obvious questions to cover both of them. She had done more than enough to this male. She had taken from him. It may have been with her own life held by more powerful paws than her own, but she still followed the order.
She still instructed it to be carried out, even if she hated every moment.
Yet it did not absolve her. She killed a soldier over petty concerns of experimental technology with an alarming failure rate. The fact that Tech walked at all was a gift from the Hunt Mother, and she had become a shining example of what the Electronic Warfare division could have been. Entire crews consisting of living EW platforms, truly moment-to-moment monitoring of every system, instantaneous counter-hacking responses...
“As recorded,” Leader voiced shakily, “there was a small slip during the transportation of... Her arm fell from the pelt. It was stained with blood, but she has a rather distinct colour.”
Rey’zel nodded, taking a breath. “Purple is a rare choice, true.”
Silence hung in the air before she moved on to the more general matters, covering the explanation for the increase in personnel brought, as well as detailed recollections of his trips to various settlements. It was quite late by the time they had finished, the sun bathing the sky outside in a nearly red hue to match the structures it illuminated. It was still strange that the planet experienced an orange sky, but she was quick to get used to it during the few suns she had stayed.
The First Claw dismissed the male, satisfied by the sincerity of his report, and fighting the urge to vomit from how sick it made her to pretend like she was ignorant to the cause of his distress.
He, on the other paw, was not.
It was subtle, but the look in his eye said it all.
He knew that they—if not specifically her—made the decision that his ship-pack was worth less than a ‘maybe.’ Worth less than a possibility. Worth less than their enemies getting a hold on technology that was more likely to harm them than to bring harm.
They were willing to cut off the paw to avoid a cracked claw...and he knew that.
Rey’zel sat in her office alone, staring at the ceiling as the bile settled in her stomach. Almost out of reflex, she brought up the interviews, hoping to bring her mind somewhere else. Hoping to cling to the once piece of excitement she had that wasn’t tied to her metaphorical press of a button.
The recording played, showing two females speaking well of their alien Grand Hunter. The First Claw skipped past the various segments to find the one she was looking for. There.
The black-furred male on the terminal smiled as he talked about his leader, and it brought a similar expression on her own muzzle. The first few viewings had passed her by initially—she was concerned with the content, rather than who was being interviewed—but it eventually became a niggling doubt in the back of her mind. It had been so long that she didn’t recognize him.
But her nose did; his scent hadn’t changed at all, save for the mark.
The moment he was in the open air, it hit her. The suspicion was confirmed, and elation almost caused her to rush towards him, but their circumstances forced her to prioritize her duties. How would he react? Would he be surprised? Overjoyed? Would he abandon his Grand Hunter’s side to embrace her like she wished to do?
None of it happened.
At first, she thought he was actively ignoring her, but the strange biped gestured to her, and only then did she question her assumption. He turned to look at her, sniffed the air reflexively, then seemed nothing but confused by her expectant gaze.
It sowed a doubt in her. A fear. She fought against it during the whole meeting with Leader, but now that she was free to consider it, that worry resurfaced. She had to see him—even if he hated her, even if he forgot her, even if he would rather it was her demise that had been discussed this sun.
Her claw tapped the intercom. “Send for Grand Hunter Joseph. Allow him one guard—though, it would perhaps be best not to invite the Blade. The black-furred male should suffice.”
“It will be done, high one,” responded one of her attendants. “And their armaments?”
A thought crossed her mind; his unease while unarmed would be more harmful than not. “Allow it within the encampment. It would reflect poorly if we were to rob the clawless ones of that comfort.”
“Yes, First Claw.”
The click confirmed that the communication ended, prompting her to lean back in her chair and resume her blank stare into the faux red hardwood of the ceiling, wondering what caused him to not recognize her, and why there was something itching at her about the way he acted.
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Eventually, the joking calmed down, and they were told that the day was mostly for everyone to get their bearings. Jax had a feeling that it was tied to them arriving with more people than their hosts were expecting, but no one had said as much, leaving the purpose up to interpretation. Joseph suggested taking a look around—a surprisingly bold assertion, given his usual caution. It was vetoed at first, but when he mentioned that Sunundra would probably be at the encampment by now, Violet jumped in to show her excitement.
The Head of Security warmed to see the den-kit so eager to meet with the Grand Huntress, but he had his duty, and Tel would never allow something as reckless as to have her mate roam the unfamiliar region; there were far more soldiers and weapons available than they could reasonably defend against.
Apparently, all it took for the Wraith to agree was for the den-kit to look heartbroken with her refusal.
It was amusing to see from the grey-furred female, her stoic hostility melting in stages. From being vehemently against it, to doubtful, then guiltily accepting the idea as long as Joseph promised to remain armed and not to stray from his guards at any time. Based on the expression hiding beneath the sarcasm, Joseph would have paid to have Pan there to see her other’s determination crumble. Jax was fairly tempted to see if Harrow would have the same reaction as well.
Not because she was less vulnerable to the den-kit—Tel was supposed to be the only one who could resist the urge to pamper and play with Violet—but because thinking of his mate weakly agreeing to their kit’s wishes made him feel at ease in the otherwise tense circumstances.
The four of them gathered their things, Scarlet and Volta being tasked with assisting the Grand Hunter’s sibling and translating if it was required. Tel prepared her equipment, Jax hefted his axe on his shoulder, and Joseph made sure Violet’s tablet was prepared for the deluge of greetings and questions that she would no doubt display to any who would humour her.
Unfortunately, the First Claw had other plans. They were caught as soon as they left the building, then told that he and Joseph were being asked to meet with her. Violet was visibly disappointed, but her adoptive blood-father assured her that they would have a chance to see Sunundra soon enough. Tel was significantly less accepting of being separated from him, and it took quite a bit of polite convincing for her to promise not to follow him covertly.
The two males shared a knowing glance once the female agreed more easily than expected. Knowing the Wraith, she would shadow them without any being the wiser for it, but at least their escort watched them attempt a dismissal.
They were brought through the encampment using a different route than they were shown to their temporary den. He wasn’t quite aware how large it all was until he noticed just how many structures there were, his perception hindered by his eye and the sheer scope of inhabitants remaining unknown as he fruitlessly sniffed the air.
That was one thing he still did on reflex—it was difficult to discard both instinct and ingrained habit, he supposed. He knew not of how many had set up here; any strong emotions or the number of mates one possessed had long since become something he needed to guess or surmise from conversation.
Whispers of the Grand Hunter’s scent changing had made their way to his ears, but without the ability to confirm for himself, he could only keep a watchful eye on the male entrusted to take a place in raising their young.
Joseph was alert as they walked past the buildings and soldiers, his focus flitting from person to person, evaluating them before switching to the next. The relaxed posture and unconcerned stride didn’t match with the sharp edge in his regard.
A short while later, they were introduced to the building that the congressional would take place in, then guided to a secondary entrance that didn’t have the same sounds of construction behind it. The doorway led to a hallway, then to stairs, then to a long corridor with several doors on the right, and a singular exit to a balcony on the left. Their weapons were surrendered to the escort as they walked, the various rooms passing as they were informed where to retrieve them. Most all of the options were skipped as the escort rapped on the furthest door, the reinforced frame notifying any who wished to enter that breaking their way in was only going to tire.
With a muffled confirmation, the door chirped a single tone before opening.
The First Claw sat behind her desk, the dusky red wooden furniture a departure from both her black coat, as well as the metal accents of her uniform. A ‘Claw of the United Military’ emblem was embossed behind her in a deep black, the golden trim contrasting the pale crimson of the wall. She pushed aside her terminal monitors, sitting straight with a drained expression.
“Come in,” she breathed, glancing to confirm something on the screen before dismissing it fully.
They did as told, Jax making a point of standing to Joseph’s left to keep him in his periphery. The escort asked if there would be any other requests before being dismissed, letting the door close as they stood guard just beyond it. Satisfied with the relative privacy, the First Claw allowed a professional smile in greeting, though her gaze lingered expectantly on Jax rather than Joseph. When he merely shifted his stance to something marginally more comfortable, the female’s expression flickered. It was almost imperceptible, but the many suns of relying on his remaining vision had made him more aware of such things.
Sadness, guilt, and conflict. Each flashed through in sequence faster than Jax could actively keep track of, only registering them after her automatic stoicism had reestablished itself.
“I take it that you are Grand Hunter Joseph,” she began, folding her paws on the desk. Joseph nodded, the razor’s edge to his gaze remaining.
“I am. You would be the ‘First Claw’ that I’ve heard of, right?”
Her eyes slipped back to Jax for a moment. Anxious. “Indeed. I trust you understand why I have requested your presence beyond the congressional?”
“Because I came with more people.”
The female nodded, sighing as she leaned back in her chair. “That would be exactly why. Before I begin making assumptions, I’ll allow you an opportunity to explain the breach of expectation.”
The Grand Hunter’s eye twitched, but he kept his composure. “The wording of the request was for ‘representatives of major powers’ to attend. I did what was asked.”
The First Claw’s eyes narrowed, her previous oddities waylaid in the face of the male’s challenging tone. “Oh? And bringing several species hostile to the UM was ‘adherence?’”
Joseph shrugged. “The other human, Robert, is a key person in his circle, and is very influential outside of it. The Trilaxin, Silva, is the representative for her species, and Violet is one of the leaders for hers. Not one of them are looking to start something.” He let his arms relax, shifting his weight to one leg. “I’m the least important person to come on that ship, First Claw, and things would be a lot smoother if you remembered that.”
“Bold of you to command me.”
He raised a paw noncommittally. “Not commanding anything. Just saying.”
Jax raised a brow at him. Joseph had a history of reacting poorly to those who tried to enforce their station, but this was a flagrant disregard at best. “Joseph...”
The Human smiled back at him, switching to English for a moment. “We’re pretty fucked no matter what I do, Jax. Might as well make things clear.”
The First Claw drummed her claws on her desk, glancing between the two of them. “Do you have anything to support such claims?”
“Your warp-spike ruined any chance of that,” the Grand Hunter snarled out, the pure venom in his voice surprising even himself. What was even more unexpected was the resurgence of guilt on the female’s face; it lingered for a moment before she cycled a breath, nodding instead of arguing.
“It was a...necessary precaution.”
“I’m sure.”
The First Claw brought a claw to her temple, massaging out an apparent headache. “It is best to leave the full discussion for the appropriate time. I will accept your reasoning for now, since it aligns with Leader’s claims.”
Jax watched Joseph bite back another scathing remark, the Grand Hunter drawing a breath to delay his vitriol. “Sounds good. Are we done here, or is there something else? I’d like to go back to my mate and kit.”
Her paw fell to the desk, the wear of a long sun showing in her eyes. “That is all I wished to clear up in regards to your attendance.”
Joseph nodded sharply. “Then we’ll be going. Come on.”
The black-furred male hesitated until a paw was placed to his arm to encourage the words. It was just as they reached the door that the First Claw’s whisper reached his ears.
“You don’t remember me, Jax?”
He froze in his step. Her words were said with such longing and remorse that there was no doubt in his mind that he was missing...something. His head snapped back to see the First Claw stand, both paws placed on the desk while her desperate eyes clung to hope. A weak smirk spread across her muzzle, marred by the sorrow.
“The warmth of the fire, the stories told, the promises made,” she continued, fighting against the tightness audible in her voice. “The late moons pretending we were resting instead of sharing our own fantasies of wonder?”
A tug on his arm reminded him that there was more than just him and the female in the office. Joseph gave him a weary glare. “Jax, you said you didn’t know her.”
The black-furred male’s face contorted in confusion. “I—I do not—“
“—I left while you were still the runt, true,” the First Claw interjected, her voice cracking, “but have you truly forgotten my scent?”
Runt. The word struck a chord deep within his memories.
He was still small, resting in his blood-mother’s arms as one of the den-fathers regaled them with stories of his latest security detail. It was some embellished recollection of what would otherwise have been a fairly mundane deployment, but his vigour and dramatic flare made each word captivating to his tiny audience.
Several of the siblings passed around treats or edged away from the fire they sat too close to while trying to get closer to the mystical tale presented. The eldest of them—just shy of leaving the realm of the kits—collected one of the smallest off the floor. The little male was too curious about the flickering flames to be wary of its heat, and too young to cling to the story that enraptured his others. All the while, the largest of them would care for and playfully torment her younger siblings.
Jax remembered the smile on a face that was much smaller than now, and the form so much less developed. The jesting title bestowed upon him by her insistence that she would always be larger, teasing the younger Jax while also providing additional snacks that the adults wouldn’t approve of.
He remembered the warmth and love in that gaze, despite the remarks. His own pout reflected back at him as he messily chewed the food sneaked into his paw, her claw raised in a gesture for him to be quiet with a cheeky grin. There was no stress in those eyes back then, but time had taken its toll.
“Rey’zel?”
The First Claw smiled, blinking away the building moisture with an enthusiastic nod, her voice cracking with relief. “It’s been a long time, Jax. You’re not so small anymore. Guess I can’t call you a runt now, can I?”