Chapter 92: Interviews
Willin dropped himself back into his chair, this time free of the stress that came from almost being beheaded for his subordinate’s loose tongue, though that didn’t mean he was relaxed by any measure. Tech placed herself in her station as Nav entered the room with some food for them, the long sun holding what amounted to interviews leaving little time to stop for a bite to eat.
“Three suns asking an entire pack,” Comms began, less worried this time without the knowledge of possible death being present.
“It takes a while,” Willin agreed with a long breath as he lowered the zipper on his jacket. “Doesn’t help that it’s so hot.”
“The den was air conditioned,” Tech muttered, organizing the files being pulled from her device.
“When they weren’t running the hydrolysis forge, yes.”
“Hydrolysis forge?” Nav inquired, moving over to offer the dark green-furred male a condensed nutrient bar. It was far from gourmet food, but it was easier on their supplies. Willin plucked it from their claws and downed it quickly, grimacing from the taste.
“Don’t ask,” Tech groaned, slumping in her seat. “Leader spent far too long humouring that smith.”
“If he knew how it worked, we might have been able to actually travel the surface at a different speed,” Willin retorted.
“After we reverse-engineered it and the fleet were given a few years to integrate it, maybe,” the purple-furred female admitted, tapping her audio interface to switch songs. “And we can still go faster here. Just means that whatever is on the ground won’t be napping.”
“Have you completed the questioning?” Comms interjected, hoping to get things back on course. Willin nodded, taking a drink of water before laying the canteen off to the side.
“Save for the Grand Hunter, but he’s a different matter entirely,” Willin muttered, gesturing for Tech to transfer the sun’s files. A short beep a moment later confirmed that they had everything they needed.
“Shall we review?” Nav offered after giving Comms his portion, the male nodding tiredly.
Tech queued up the collected files, selecting the most diverse first. “We’ll start with the ones who have the most unique opinions. First will be the mated couple of Sahari and Nalah—Heads of the pack, and the only ones to insist on being a pair.”
“Whatever makes this end faster,” Willin murmured as the video started on the main display for the crew to see, Comms muting his system so as not to disturb the viewing with its constant ticks and beeps.
The recording background was between two buildings, the sounds of construction echoed in the background. Sunlight glinted off the silver wood of the structures behind the two females, but they stood shoulder to shoulder and eliminated most of the glare. Though they both seemed less than excited to be pulled from their work, they were outwardly passive enough, their two tails intertwined as they glanced to the device and back to the operator behind it.
“Why do you follow the Grand Hunter?” Willin’s voice inquired from off-screen, his voice slightly muffled by being out of the cardioid pickup pattern of the microphone. The snort of annoyance from the blond-furred female was perfectly clear, however.
“He is the Grand Hunter,” Nalah replied tersely, a shout from the site nearby drawing her ears. A breath of exhasperation was stifled by Sahari draping an arm over her shoulders.
“In the interest of time, Joseph is the reason we draw breath,” the black-furred female replied with exasperation, though none of it seemed to be directed towards her mate.
“Quite the claim,” Willin commented neutrally.
“And perfectly true,” Sahari asserted with a half-shrug. “We were starving, denless, and on the precipice of death. It is only by his generosity that we remain to answer your questions. Much is true for almost all who reside within his protections.”
“Surely you don’t think he is purely beneficent.”
“He brought us together,” Nalah stated with a roll of her eyes as another shout cried out. She paused to yell over her shoulder, resolving a budding conflict with little more than a crude comment. “Besides saving my life personally a second time...perhaps a third as well, Joseph has done nothing but ensure those who follow him are cared for.”
“And you?” Willin asked the black-furred female, the taller of the two interviewees chortling.
“I have entrusted my being to the male,” she answered with a light squeeze to her mate. “I owe everything to him by now, and I intend for him to receive all of it.”
“That sounds as if you would bed the alien,” Tech asked curiously, a soft thump resonating through the microphone indicating that she had taken a disapproving tap for the off-script question.
The purple-furred female inside the ship chuckled as the video continued.
The mated pair glanced at each other, smirking. Sahari answered first. “If he wished, I would not mind seeing what the appeal beyond his character seems to be.”
“It would hardly be outside of his considerations,” Nalah agreed with a laugh. “I am of the same mind.” The blond-furred female relaxed, her gaze falling down fondly. “For one who gave me that which I would never have? Anything.”
Willin cleared his throat, the rough sound distorting over the mic. “Due to time constraints, we must move on to the most important question; would you like to reintegrate into the UM? Mind that your Grand Hunter has explicitly stated his willingness to allow agency.”
The two looked at the one holding the device disapprovingly, their stares sharpening. “We refuse.”
The file ended, Comms furrowing his brow in thought, Nav tilting theirs in similar expression.
“That is a rather concrete answer,” Comms managed tepidly, Nav nodding in agreement.
“We tried to coax them, but it was pretty obvious that we were already pushing our luck,” Tech noted, queuing up the next video. “Those two were called away for their respective work shortly after, anyway. Next is Jax, Head of Security. We were only able to approach him during an exercise regimen.”
The next file appeared as she finished, a large black-furred male stood side-on with his arms crossed, dressed in only pants due to the temperature. Buildings were in the middle-distance, sounds of clashing swords and exhausted Lilhuns in the background told of the sparring and training happening off-screen.
“The male saved our lives,” Jax answered, Tech having skipped past the primer question. “He is the reason I have my mate, as well as a lovely den-kit to care for. Not least of the reasons I have would be that he has become an irreplaceable friend.”
“Do you believe his existence to be of the same merit as those who attacked our people?” Willin asked, a slight wind drowning out the jeers of whoever was spectating a spar.
Jax chuckled. “Only if you attack first.” The male glanced at them, the scar around his left eye rendering the organ glassy and unfocused. Even after the fact, that gaze sent a wave of unease through the spectating crew. “If you did, rest assured that it would be swift, and we would not falter to assist.”
The video cut short, Tech shaking her head at the curious glance from Nav. “We were sent away after that due to some interference in the sparring being required on his part, but he answered later that he wished to remain.”
“The den-kit... That is the young Atmo, yes?” Comms pondered, tilting an ear at a nodded response. “Odd.”
“It is,” Willin agreed, gesturing to the next video. “But so is all of this.”
“Next is Volta,” Tech provided, slumping in her seat slightly as she stalled further in speech. “I’m not really sure what she is. She certainly isn’t.”
A questioning look was redirected to the video, the setting this time being a fairly large building that was populated mostly by beds against the walls, two other Lilhuns assisting a small Atmo in cleaning the area. The blue-furred female seemed nervous about being approached by them, the cream-coloured fur of her stomach peering under the lighter leathers as she considered the first question of what she knew of the Human.
“There is not much I know, unfortunately,” she replied after a moment, pausing to inspect and approve of the work being performed. An almost black red-furred female in surprisingly well-tailored attire bowed deferentially as she accompanied the cleaner, the latter eyeing her warily before promptly accepting the company with a sigh. “The male has taken a defect as a mate, and has done little besides care for the Atmo and those who follow him. Were it not for the tales of his actions—and the recent trophy of conquest in his office—I would assume him harmless.”
“You sound as if you have other reservations,” Willin commented politely, his tone assuring her that he wouldn’t press the issue if she didn’t want to expand on it. She flinched, glaring at the servant who seemed perfectly content to remain still, though there was a hint of a smirk on her muzzle. Volta returned her focus to the soldiers, rubbing her exposed fur on her side, something having ruffled it at some point.
“The male is...different,” she answered softly. “There exists the Void under his exterior, but what may unleash it, I know not.”
“Head Volta,” a male addressed the cleaner, further informing the blue-furred female that he would return momentarily with more cleaning solution. The female nodded while wearing a stunned expression, blinking long after the male had left, a wide-eyed shock following his form until the door closed audibly behind him.
“Would you reintegrate with the UM fleet when it arrives?” Tech asked, hoping to move things along. Volta looked at them, her mind elsewhere.
“I...I don’t know...”
“Mistress Volta,” the servant interjected, gesturing to the small insect who had gotten an odd contraption on their blade caught in the fireplace. The blue-furred female apologized and left to assist with the issue.
“That was an odd reaction,” Nav commented. “What might have caused it?”
Tech shrugged, setting up the next interview. “Her response was the most promising of the Heads. Next is the ex-Grand Hunter Toril.” She stopped to shrug at the bewildered looks. “This is where he ended up. It’s in the file.”
The screen flickered to the next video, a dyed-furred female supplying various containers to a white-furred male in a long-sleeved coat, a bronze-furred servant wearing an odd silver rope as a sash organizing some things on a table in the background. The din of the pack outside was barely picked up by the microphone, the male humming with a detached grin as he dripped a clear fluid into a container before using a metal stick to stir it.
“He has offered us a place of sanctuary,” Toril answered, glancing at them with a sharpness in his eyes that didn’t match the affable smile. “Precious, could you pass me compound forty? Thank you.” The male added a purple powder to the substance, returning the bottle it came from to the female casting wary looks at the soldiers. “We are ‘guests,’ if you will, though he was kind enough to offer Kaslin there as an assistant to our work,” he explained cheerily with a tip of his head towards the servant.
“Then this building existed previously?” Willin asked for clarification. The structure seemed tailored to the needs of a chemist—as much as they could expect from such limited resources, anyway. The male beamed.
“Not at all! It was constructed as an act of cooperation, much like all of the containers and tools you see before you.”
“Then you have no vested interest in remaining here,” Tech surmised. “Will you be reintegrating into the UM?”
The male paused, his smile faltering as the black dyed-fur female glanced at them. He turned his focus towards the soldiers with a slightly distressed expression. “Why would I do that?”
“If nothing else, you would be able to run a lab much more sophisticated than this,” Willin offered, obviously taken aback by the genuine concern in the male’s voice.
“And lose the opportunity to study his kind?” Toril huffed, open disapproval on his face. “Leave. I must return to my work. It was a pleasure conversing, may the sun treat you well.”
The crew fell silent until Comms took a breath loudly. “What happened to his tail?”
“Didn’t get the chance to ask,” Tech muttered, a paw supporting her cheek as she lazily readied the next video.
“He wouldn’t humour any additional questions after that,” Willin sighed, scratching at his ear. “Considering he and his mate are the only ones in the settlement not directly influenced by the alien...Human, that was our best chance at a clean agreement.” The dark green-furred male fixed his sleeve before sinking further into his seat. “He’s awfully interested in biology for a chemist.”
“His file warned us he was eccentric,” Tech pointed out, gesturing with her free paw to the screen. “Next is Mi’low. Also an ex-Grand Huntress, now High Huntress.”
“Quite the collection,” Nav commented idly as the file loaded.
The interview took place in an office, though conversations off-screen suggested the pack was processing the most recent result of their hunt behind a closed door. A crimson-furred female folded her paws on her desk, sunlight beaming in through a window off to the side. Her expression was perfectly neutral, absent of even a suggestion of the emotions she felt hearing the prodding question that started each of the files.
“He is as he is,” the female answered plainly, making no move to elaborate further.
“Ah, I see,” Willin replied politely, though his tone suggested that he had no more of an idea of what she meant than before the question was asked. “Do you believe he and his people are a threat to ours?”
The red-furred female exhaled, a pensive tint of sadness temporarily visible before she regained her placid composure. “For a male who would mourn the loss of one of us despite having no relationship with them? No. If he is any indication of what his kind is like, then I truly fear what would become of us were we to antagonize them. As things stand, he would bleed himself dry to see those under him thrive.” The High Huntress held a claw up to stall his query. “I have seen much under the UM, under the civilian sector, and under his command—if one could call it such. Never have I seen people so stripped of what makes them strong, yet remain content.”
Mi’low’s expression faltered, a small smile forming under the veneer of impartial judgment. “I have spent most of my time under him trying to discern that which you seek now, but never have I returned with an answer so clear, yet so vague.”
“What might that be?”
The female laughed, waving them away in dismissal. “Look not into the Void and expect malice, for the haze of assumptions shall assure you received it. Seek kindness instead, and be embraced by the cool touch of the unknown to soothe your wounds. He lives up to his Essence, new ones, and the answers in which you pine will be given in the medium you prepare for.” Her voice quieted, as if mostly speaking to herself. “To see that which wears no boundaries for those who reciprocate, it makes those like us lost.”
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She looked up to them, her lips thin in contemplation. “To head off the inquiry, No. I have a duty to those who serve under myself, and to him, unfortunately. If those I am responsible for leave, then perhaps, but I would not expect such a response.”
The video ended, Willin taking a sip from his canteen. “That was the most cryptic answer, but probably the most insightful—apart from the Heads.”
“We’ll get to those at the end,” Tech interjected before Comms could speak. “Moving on to one of the general pack, and one of Mi’low’s, Heralt. He works as the smith for their metal constructions.”
The sound of ringing iron instantly filled the room, the screen showing a male hammering what looked to be a large armour plate that they recalled the red and blue Atmo wearing during the initial meeting with the Grand Hunter. The smith’s gaze was hardened, but not unfriendly. The occasional scrap of slag fell onto the grass of the outdoor workspace, the brown-furred male only stopping to address them after a nod and adjusting the temperature of his forge lower, the armour placed into a basin to cool, steam hissing from the water.
“What do I think of the Grand Hunter?” the male repeated for clarification as he removed a fibrous plug from his ear and placed his hammer on the anvil. Heralt shifted his gaze skyward with a breath. “There is not much to say of him.”
“Nothing?” Tech queried doubtfully. The smith shrugged.
“He accepted me after my blunder, and arranged work that I enjoy under a Head who transfers his ideas into a form I may act on. If anything, I would call him kind.”
“Blunder?” Willin prodded. “What might you have done to require forgiveness?”
Heralt looked to his feet regretfully. “I disturbed a torch during the winter. Our settlement was more ash and cinder than den and Lilhun by the sunrise. The Grand Hunter did not fault me, nor did he forgive me. He gave me work in which I am suited, and trust that I would repent through serving his will.” Levity returned to the male with a self-assuring nod. “I am glad to do so now. It has not erased my faults, but it has given me purpose.”
“Would you consider reintegrating into the UM?” Willin asked, his uncertainty showing through his voice. The brown-furred male shook his head, thumbing over his shoulder to his now-cooled armour he had been working on.
“There is no place for one like me with them. Here? Here I may craft designs of curiosity with minds most convoluted providing them endlessly. I see our kin return with beaten armour, scratched plates, and dulled blades, but whole. I am thanked for my work here.” The male gave an almost serene smile. “My place is following the Grand Hunter.”
“Even if Mi’low were to accept?”
“Even if.”
“The response was pretty much the same for the rest of her pack,” Tech summarized, skimming through the related interviews. “The closest we got to a ‘yes’ was from an artist’s mates, and that was only if the male himself agreed.”
“Did he?” Nav asked, their tone suggested that they already knew where this was going.
“Nope, but not because of the Grand Hunter,” the purple-furred female clarified. “He was absolutely obsessed with a particular Atmo. Mama, if I recall.”
Comms tipped an ear. “Romantic?”
“I tuned it out,” she admitted shamelessly. “He was rather verbose and insistent in drawing the topic back to their art projects.”
“Have we considered following Sunundra’s lead and dealing with the Atmo?”
Willin laughed, a phantom sting of blade to his throat surfacing for just a moment. “Comms, never let them hear you say that.”
The male shrunk as Tech threw on the next interview. “Bratik and Sorren. Previous High Hunter and acolyte of the Great Hunt, respectively.”
The screen displayed the interior of what looked to be a temple, though obviously not a dedicated building. Torches were placed in stone bowls to prevent the danger of over-burning, while also illuminating the space. Windows were closed with sliding panels to control how much light entered the space—a consideration for those who wished to pray.
Despite the questioning, an ashen-furred male pushed around his mobile chair, one arm favoured over the other as he put away some materials used for services. A male of yellow fur sported black patches around his coat. It was an odd coloration, most Lilhuns being primarily solid in colour or having their torso shifting away from it, but he seemed healthy and happy, so none of the crew commented on the sight.
“What might I enlighten you on?” the priest asked genuinely, Tech’s nasal sigh barely audible from off-screen. Willin ignored the female.
“We just wish for your general thoughts on him.”
Sorren blinked, an apologetic frown donned. “I’m afraid that I have little to say, other than that we owe the male much.”
“I would be within the Void if not for him,” Bratik explained, pushing himself to his mate’s side. Sorren rested a paw on his shoulder.
“Is your arm well?”
The enfeebled male grinned. “It aches at times, but Head Harrow was correct; I believe it will heal fully soon enough.”
“If you were to reintegrate into the UM, we could see to your condition,” Willin offered diplomatically. He faltered when the pair looked at him sternly.
“Our apologies for wasting your time, new ones, but we will remain,” Sorren asserted, leaving no room for dispute. Bratik nodded firmly.
“Our place is serving The Guardian. May his light protect you.”
The video cut abruptly, Tech repeating the same sigh as recorded. “This is why I hate the church.”
“We’re not here to speak of religion, Tech,” Willin warned, rolling his eyes. Nav and Comms weren’t quite ‘devout,’ but the mention of an Essence happening twice seemed to unsettle them. As an agnostic, the dark green-furred male found himself cautious of the connotations accompanying the assertions, but decided to remain neutral on the topic for the sake of diplomacy both on and off the ship. There was something to be said for dealing with Aspects, since they often gave you an idea of what to expect when interacting with them, but reading too much into it only led to theological debates that would take longer than they had—assuming it ended at all.
Tech muttered about the dismissal, but threw on the next few videos without complaint, each being more mundane conversations with assorted pack members that generally ended with tentative ‘no’s or ‘only if X did.’ Regardless, the turnout wasn’t exactly promising. Even a short interview with Idee, a previous Grand Huntress, resulted in the light brown-furred female shaking her head sadly. The designer wanted to remain to continue her work in fashion, as limited as it was for the time being, rather than return to a war she wished no part in.
“There are a few who accepted,” Willin assured them, his tone more disappointed than he would have usually allowed. “But they seemed to be the newest additions.”
“What of the other three Heads?” Comms asked, still shaking his head at so many positions of power not instantly tearing the pack asunder. Willin and Tech exchanged a glance.
“Harrow, Tel, and Huntress Pan,” Tech listed hesitantly. “Those three are...”
“Odd,” Willin concluded, adjusting himself in his seat. “Start with the heiress.”
Tech nodded in affirmative, the video changing to the forest just outside the walls. They had found her dozing in a tree and used the opportunity to stage the interview, so the upwards angle only really showed the canopy and passing blue clouds, a hint of a storm far in the horizon against the orange early-sun sky.
A sickening giggle poured from the female, a single eye cracked to view the two soldiers below. “It is rather bold of you—or perhaps ignorant—to ask what I think of my Sheath, no?”
“It’s just procedure,” Willin assured.
“Then would me telling you that the only reason I have not personally verified how much you bleed before joining the Void is due to his wishes?” she purred, the lustful smile still sending shivers down Willin’s spine.
“We will be sure to note a positive opinion,” he answered evenly, a smile he didn’t truly mean tinting his voice.
Tel closed her eyes again, her tail swaying loosely behind her. “As you will.”
“Do you believe his people are a threat to us?” Tech continued, wanting to wrap things up instead of playing around with someone openly hostile towards them.
The Blade snapped her eyes open, the piercing gaze burning through them until a smirk formed. “If you provoke them, absolutely, and I will revel in it when the time comes.”
“You see it as an inevitability?” Willin ventured, concern growing on his face as the female rolled onto her back to inspect the ring she wore, her tail curling around the branch to support her. Her response flowed as if she were discussing the weather, but neither of them could miss the almost rapacious quality her lilt took.
“You offered to remove that which he holds dear, new ones, and bring a fleet to do the same. I am not my other, for I desire not to offer you a place within his considerations,” she murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear. “But there is more to your question than you know.”
The female rolled off the branch to land on the ground, only her ears visible on screen due to the angle. “There exists a line between salvation and ruin, new ones. I will meet you on the wrong side.”
Comms swallowed audibly, opening his mouth before failing to find words as the video ended. Nav cycled a breath and glanced at Willin. “I think I wish not to discover her meaning.”
Tech nodded slowly in agreement. “Same here. Think that has something to do with Hasen?”
Willin shrugged. “If so, then we’ll see how dangerous a clawless biped can be, I suppose. Who’s next?”
The purple-furred female flicked through a few more recordings, most of them banal or too short for any real consideration. A few featured the pack interacting with the Atmo, but in each the pack was quick to place themselves between the insects and the soldiers for the duration. The attempts at directly asking the servants who had been in the Grand Hunter’s den were met with polite, but ironclad refusal to comment, citing their work to be the reason that they were unable to humour such talks. Willin chalked that up to be a possible ‘no,’ but held onto hope.
“Next is the defect,” she announced, her tone more curious than judgmental. “Huntress Pan, posited Paw of the Grand Hunter.”
“Can he not detect her ailment?” Comms asked with a furrow of his brow.
“Perhaps their scent is attractive to aliens?” Nav suggested, though their contemplative head tilt confirmed how little stock they placed in the theory.
“I think the main question is why the pack doesn’t seem to mind,” Willin commented, gesturing to Tech. “When we were walking through, it felt like we were a twitch away from a full-blown riot until she arrived.”
“As opposed to ignoring her at best?”
Tech shrugged. “Whatever the reason, it got paws off swords.” She tapped her audio interface to change out her music. “I don’t think it would have mattered while we were armed and away from the den, but I wouldn’t chance a repeat unarmed.”
“She was also the most polite one,” Willin added, taking another sip of his water. The purple-furred female barked a laugh, a grin directed at the dark green-furred male.
“Compared to Tel? At least Huntress Pan didn’t strip your weapon while scolding you the whole time.”
He nodded bashfully, resisting the urge to adjust his clothing again so soon. “It’s been a while since we’ve been to a gunsmith.”
“It’d be better if you just learned how to care for it.”
Willin waved her off. “We’re hardly drowning in free time right now.”
“And before?”
“Tech, play the file.”
She gave a long roll of her eyes. “As you wish. I’m pushing the manual to your personal device, too.”
He blew a long breath out of his nose as the screen changed, a random spot at the wall of the settlement serving as the close background, the Huntress idly running her claws over the young purple Atmo that seemed to be sleeping on her lap while she sat on the ground, her back resting on the shaded silver barrier. She wore a polite smile, her ears moving purposefully for a few moments before her attention was focused forward towards the two soldiers behind the device.
“Are you prepared to begin?” she asked sweetly, her previous unease from meeting in the den replaced by an unbothered tip of an ear.
“We are now, Huntress Pan,” Willin answered, manually adjusting the focus that the sun wished to ruin. “Before we ask our prepared questions though, may I inquire as to the nature of those accessories yourself and Tel wear? I don’t see them elsewhere.”
Tech groaned at the video, receiving a scowl from the other crew. “What? Who cares about a ring? The answer wasn’t even helpful.”
Huntress Pan giggled on the screen, saving Tech the chastisement. “It is a gift from our mate; a mark of his kind, if you will. It is his declaration that he wishes us his forevermore.”
“Told you,” the purple-furred female grumbled, earning a tossed scrap of garbage. “Hey!”
“They are similar to those of your condition then?” Willin asked, his voice free of judgment. The Paw seemed surprised by the question, blinking before chuckling into her wrist, apologizing to the Atmo for disturbing its rest and resuming her petting.
“I suppose in a way they are,” she admitted, her smile only growing wider. “But only as far as those such as Jax or Volta.”
“They are damaged?”
The white-furred female shook her head. “Not in the way you’re assuming. Their sense of smell has been altered by injury and chemicals. Where I will still be able to enjoy the scent of fresh food, they are not. They still produce the typical pheromones, however.”
“And the...Humans are closer?”
“Their smell is simply much weaker for such things, though stronger in others,” she explained, not bothering to cover what exactly their sense excels at.
Willin grunted in understanding, regardless of how closely he was actually following the conversation. “Apologies for the tangent. What is your opinion of the Grand Hunter?”
Huntress Pan tilted her head in complete apologetic confusion. “He is my bond; there exists nothing else I value more.” Her gaze fell to the Atmo on her lap, then momentarily to the side as she considered it. A satisfied smirk faded as she regarded them again, her expression returning to the friendly one she seemed to wear usually. “Apologies, there are two others I hold in similar esteem.”
“Your bond?”
She nodded, her smile brightening. “I understand your hesitation to accept such, but it is true.”
A hum resonated as the two soldiers collectively decided to move on. “Do you believe his people are a threat to ours?”
“Are you one to him?” the white-furred female returned instantly, her eyes sharp. The insect adjusted its legs slightly, interested in the answer of the female’s question. A dark green-furred paw could be seen held out haltingly at the top of the frame.
“It is a standard question we are asking of everyone.”
The female maintained her gaze for longer than anyone was comfortable with before cautiously placating the Atmo with her claws. “If you mean no harm to that which is his, he will mean no harm to you. From what I have had the pleasure of learning, such is common for his people.”
“Thank you for answering. Would you be amenable to reintegration into the UM?”
Huntress Pan shook her head, looking lovingly at the settling insect. “My place is where he resides. I wish not to think of...I wish not to be separated. Please understand.”
“Of course,” Willin assured neutrally, unsure what to make of the conversation at all. The device moved as he prepared to end the recording, the video flipping on its side before he paused. “What if all the others were to agree?”
“They will not,” the Paw replied with certainty. “I will be remorseful for those who wish no more of us, but we will not follow.”
“And if they were ordered?” Willin pressed out of morbid curiosity. “Your Grand Hunter is not protected by our laws.”
The blink it took for the white-furred female to process the suggestion was all the time needed for her regard to turn borderline murderous, her voice laced with venom. “My purpose is to ensure that which is his remains as such. My other’s is to remove that which thinks to draw my need. Your words come from ignorance and a pining mind.” The female held a paw up abruptly, an ear snapping to something off-screen, but even at the time, Willin didn’t know what caught her attention. “His people are not what you should fear, but what we will do if you try to keep us from them.”
The video cut, the echoing of a Void-filled promise souring the otherwise dismissive comments. Conviction behind that small female felt like a loaded gun pressed to their heads at the time, and not even viewing the recording from the safety of their ship removed the feeling.
“Next?” Willin suggested after a long silence of concerned glances, hoping to dispel the foreboding sensation.
“Head Harrow,” Tech provided, shaking off the last of the unease at reliving that moment. “She’s in charge of implementing the Grand Hunter’s creations.”
“Do we know anything about her before her inclusion within this pack?” Nav queried, curious what might qualify someone to work with literally alien methodologies and happy to switch topics.
“No records of anyone for this ship, but it’s safe to say that would be Trill’s doing,” the purple-furred female griped, a disdainful look given at the acknowledgement that half of their work was changed from ‘looking up information’ to ‘going in blind.’
Willin gestured to the video starting on the screen to shelve the conversation. An oddly arranged fire sported supports and a funnel atop it to channel the heat of the flames, wooden pieces of unknown purpose placed and adjusted by the orange-furred female. Her black leather vest shaded her face, the hood propped up by the holes for her ears to prevent the sunlight from shining into her eyes.
“Thank you for agreeing to the interview,” Willin started gently, Tech taking a seat at the edge of the screen, though only her leg could be seen. Harrow removed the curved piece from the funnel, replacing it with another that had yet to be charred.
“Joe asked us to humour some questions. That’s all I’m going to do.”
“And we appreciate your cooperation,” the dark green-furred male assured, the open malice in her voice surprising him. “What is your opinion of the Grand Hunter?”
The female’s face fell conflicted, a flash of contemplation passing through her bit lip before she sighed. “The Grand Hunter is...” The silence reigned for several moments. A breath from behind the microphone was cut off as she finally continued. “Joe is everything to...us. He gave us a den and family when most of us couldn’t even think of it. He cares for us as if he were one of us... More even, I think.”
Harrow gave a sorrowful smile towards Willin. “And he needs us as much as we need him. Have you read through the report yet?”
“We wished to do these interviews unbiased,” Tech explained, earning an understanding nod from the orange-furred female.
“Do you believe his people are a threat to us?” Willin asked, sensing that the conversation had stalled.
Harrow laughed, pausing to wipe a building tear from her eye. “The most dangerous thing about a Human is what they do to us.”
“Care to explain?” he asked cautiously, on edge at the specific answer amongst the cryptic.
“Have you bonded, Leader?” she asked, a resigned tone to her voice, smirking when he answered in the negative. “What if I told you that there exists an entire species more suited to giving the Hunt Mother’s gift than our own? What if I suggested that gift can push us beyond our limits?”
“Humans? I would say we should remove them immediately,” Tech opined in disgust.
“Why?”
“Because we should have no desire to be bonded to them. What of our natural bonds? Who do we blame when our people no longer feel the warmth and comfort afforded by our own?”
Harrow shook her head pitifully. “What if I told you that we are not limited to one bond? That our greatest barrier is a chance of biology and desire, wrapped in assumptions and distrust?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Read the document,” she implored wistfully. “And learn why the last thing you wish to do is recommend action against them. How much we have to gain. And how much I...”
The female smiled weakly, fresh wetness staining her fur in the bright sunlight, her paws clenched in futility. Willin softened his voice. “Would you like to-”
“Leave,” Harrow hissed, the crack in her voice brokering no argument. “Unless you’re asking to help him...leave. Please.”
The video ended, leaving the two not present for the initial event to glance at those who were worryingly.
“Why do I feel as if there is much to consider before we have our final meeting?” Comms asked quietly as he met Nav’s gaze, their expression mirroring the question.
“Because there is, Comms,” Willin answered with a sigh. “Tech?”
“Yeah, Leader?” she answered at a volume just shy of a whisper, a second exposure to the raw emotion on display sapping her of her usual energy.
“Bring up the report that the Grand Hunter provided.” He perched his elbows on his knees, leaning into the cupped paws. “I hope you all got your rest, because it will be a moon of little sleep.”