Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Terra Two.

A backwater chunk of space rock housing about one-thousand three-hundred refugees hailing from all over the galaxy. These refugees come from a variety of planets, cultures, and histories, but all share one thing in common:

They seek refuge from the Irken Menace.

Operation Impending Doom II is a wild success. Every civilization standing in the way of the Armada's destructive path is either entirely enslaved or annihilated. Those who manage to evacuate decide to settle on any semi-inhabitable moon out of the way of the Massive's linear flight path of doom.

Irkens are known for their ruthless cunning and as such, the general opinion on Terra Two is that anyone suspected of being an Irken Agent should be promptly disposed of. This cultural hostility towards people of her ilk was just one of the many obstacles Hax found herself face-to-face with on her new home base. There were no other Irkens on this rock, at least as far as she knew. If there were, they must have been as well-disguised and assimilated already. If any Irken were to reside among the inhabitants of Terra Two, they must blend in seamlessly in every way. Hax especially had to be careful. Who knew how long she would be stranded on this rock? It could very possibly be forever...

Hax took a slow breath. No use dwelling on the bleakness of the future. If she'd learned anything from this whole ordeal, it was that there is no future. There is only the present and the need to survive.

Hax activated her stolen Invader's Holographic Disguiser Module and began to style her Vortian cover identity. Unassuming build. Small round eyes. Short curved horns, plain choice of robes...her time serving as a scout for the Empire on Planet Vort prepared her well for this situation.

...Not that she worked for the Empire anymore.

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Life on Terra Two was peaceful, if a bit tense. Its inhabitants shared limited resources and overwhelming culture shock amongst themselves, but there was always a tenuous-yet-constant sense of community among them. Everyone depended on everyone else to survive.

Ettoh, personally, was of the opinion that anyone seeking solace should be welcome on Terra Two. That was why, when she woke up one day to a new neighbor settled in overnight (apparently a Vortian just her age!), Ettoh took it upon herself to welcome them to the neighborhood.

Ettoh straightened her white silk scarf around her lithe neck, primped her elegantly curled horns in the mirror, and took a grounding breath as she stepped out of her apartment's entryway. You can do this, she thought to herself. It's just a new neighbor, no pressure.

Social situations were never Ettoh's strong suit. She was trying to be better-- she tried to talk to new people, and get out of the apartment more. It made her nervous, and she always seemed to say the wrong thing or forget to say anything at all. But she wanted some friends, darn it! Today she was determined to make one.

Ettoh centered herself with a breath and rapped a manicured claw on the steel door. She was met with a long silence. Ettoh felt the panic already setting in-- maybe the neighbor was still busy moving? Was she being rude by demanding an introduction so early from the new tenant? This was a bad idea, she should just come back later-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door sliding open to reveal a short, sturdy-looking Vortian peering warily up at her.

"O-oh! Hello!" Ettoh managed after a moment. "I'm Ettoh, I'm your next-door neighbor and I wanted to see if you needed any help getting settled in, or wanted someone to show you around, or-"

"I'm okay." The other Vortian looked unsettled but her voice was even, as if trying to save face. Was Ettoh being too pushy already? She felt an embarassed flush creep over her face. After another moment, the other Vortian mumbled, "Nice to meet you," and moved to shut the door.

"W-wait! What's your name?" Ettoh asked despite herself.

The other Vortian was silent for a moment, as if calculating. Finally, she answered:

"Grett."

Ettoh smiled. "Nice to meet you...Grett. I guess I'll leave you to it, then...I'm just next door, flat 247, if you ever need anything just ask! And if I'm home I'll definitely try to help!"

Grett blinked up at her owlishly. Unsure of what to say, Ettoh gave one last nod before scampering back to her own flat and shutting the door behind her to agonize in solitude over her lacking social skills.

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Hax watched the odd Vortian- Ettoh, she reminded herself- flee the scene. She too withdrew into her own apartment, dropping her holographic disguise as soon as the door slid shut. She hadn't expected to have to deal with nosy neighbors so soon. This could prove...problematic.

She closed her Vortcherry-red eyes a moment, and snapped them back open when she noticed something strange with her PAK. How long had it been rumbling like that? Now that she thought about it, her pulse was irregular as well. Was it something about the Vortian?

...It was definitely something about the Vortian.

She wasn't sure what it was about her new neighbor, but...something...about her made Hax's antennae twitch with nerves. She wondered if this was her spooch telling her to be wary. Maybe there was more to Ettoh than met the eye.

Whatever. Hax pulled herself together with a prompt shake of her head and proceeded to the bedroom of the apartment where her home base-security equipment sat awaiting orders. She needed to keep an eye on her new neighbor. Things were about to get complicated, she could almost taste it. Hax wondered how much worse things could possibly get for her. Then she wondered if they could ever get better.

She shoved her speculations aside and began to configure security defenses for her new living situation. There was only now, she reminded herself. For now she needed to survive.

Chapter Text

It was a week before Ettoh saw Grett again.

She feared at first that her eagerness had scared her new neighbor off. Ettoh had been told on several occasions that she could be...'a bit much'. To tell the truth, Ettoh had withdrawn a bit more than she should have after their last encounter. Every time she thought about taking a second chance at befriending Grett, her mind flooded with doubts that made her gut churn. So she stayed inside until she couldn't take it anymore.

One day, driven by a serious case of cabin fever, she managed to drag herself from her apartment down to Heedon's Recourse, which had opened earlier that week. The dingy bar looked as if it was about to collapse in on itself and was decorated by a large, dusty banner sporting "Heedon's Recourse: Now Open!" in large, yellow Plookesian characters. Ettoh smiled to herself as she stood outside its entryway; she was glad Heedon finally got his business off the ground. He'd always talked about opening a local hangout of his own. It was probably about time she dropped in and saw how he was doing.

Ettoh pushed past the swinging doors into the dimly lit bar. She crinkled her nose against the rich scent of Vortian alcohol tainting the air. If she was honest, she wasn't much a fan of the stuff herself-- nonetheless, she took a seat at the bar where Heedon himself was busy wiping some down freshly-washed glasses.

"'Ey, if it ain't young Ettoh! How ya be?" The old Plookesian grinned warmly at her.

"Just fine," Ettoh replied. "One Vinewold Slub-Whiskey, on the rocks, please."

"Comin' right up."

When Ettoh was served her drink, the two caught up. Heedon was doing well, and business was good, he said. The bar attracted new regulars every day.

"Speakin' a' which," he began, leaning over the counter as if about to divulge some juicy secret. "Not the other day a young lass come in 'ere. Young Vortian, mysterious type, you'd'a liked 'er." Ettoh groaned and buried her face into her claws. Heedon just chortled good-naturedly and topped off her glass.

Heedon often tried to introduce Ettoh to the new local ladies in town, in an attempt to keep her from becoming a complete hermit. It was sweet, in its own way, but it never amounted to anything but Ettoh somehow making a fool of herself. Every single time.

"'Ey, speak a' the devil," Ettoh heard Heedon say. She chanced to look up from her claws and saw, to her horror, a small, stocky Vortian pushing her way into the bar.

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Hax had not expected her nosy neighbor to be at the bar at this time of day. She hadn't really run across her anywhere in the past week, to be honest. She should have been more careful.

It was too late now though. The Plookesian bartender waved her over to where Ettoh sat, stone-faced and staring, right across from him. Hax considered simply turning and walking right back out of the bar, but realized that that would be too suspicious. The more distant she made herself, the more curious people would get, and she couldn't afford taking that risk. So, with a stifled sigh, she plucked her way over to the barstool nearest Ettoh.

"See, this's the one," announced the bartender to his Vortian company. Hax blinked, nonplussed, as she was served her Guartian Vilelager. The bartender then addressed her. "I was just tellin' Ettoh 'ere, I was sayin', you two gals oughta be introduced, you'd'a get along, I think. Then you come in here right as I'm sayin'. Guess the Universe knows what she's doin', hah!"

Hax had to bite back a scoff. Right, the Universe wanted an Irken and a Vortian to sit awkwardly ignoring each other in some dingy-ass bar getting their heads talked off by a salty old bartender. "The Universe knows what she's doing". This man was loose in the hardware.

"Ah, well, we've actually already met," Ettoh cut in. "Grett here is my new neighbor, she moved in recently."

"Oh? So ye've already been introduced then?" the barkeep only seemed spurred on by this revelation.

"Uh. Yeah." Hax refused to meet either of their gazes.

Some new patrons entered the bar and Heedon had to excuse himself, leaving Hax and Ettoh to each other's devices. An awkward silence settled itself between them as they nursed their respective drinks. Hax considered excusing herself with a headache or something but...

...For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to.

It must be the alcohol, she told herself, grimacing down at the oily-dark liquid. Damn Guartians and their genetically modified spice-hops.

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Ettoh had at first expected Grett to lay eyes on her and simply turn and leave. She couldn't imagine why anyone would be interested in drinking with their flighty, awkward neighbor whom they'd barely spoken to once.

But then, Grett had sat down next to her. And when Heedon ran his mouth about them "getting along" or whatever, Grett had seemed startled but not entirely put out. That must count for something, right?

When Heedon took his leave Ettoh realized she was already a bit buzzed. Enough so that her famous tongue could run loose, but not enough to forgo self-consciousness about it. Grett seemed content just to drink in silence; Ettoh spent the lull in conversation desperately begging herself not to open her mouth. But the awkwardness between them closed in on her like rising pressure. She began to mull over Heedon's suggestion...maybe he was onto something after all? You miss all the shots you don't take, right?

In a moment of drunken recklessness, she dared to strike up conversation anew.

"So! How have you been!"

It was in this moment Ettoh realized she was a terribly boring conversationalist.

"Fine," was all Grett responded before taking a long draft of her drink. She must not be one much for talking, Ettoh thought to herself. Nevertheless, she persisted.

"You don't look like you're from here!"

Grett straightened up, startled. "Uh...What?"

Ettoh felt her face flush. She hadn't meant to sound so rude!

"I-I meant...I was wondering where you came here from!"

This must have been a sensitive subject, because Grett's face closed off into an unreadable expression. "I don't see how that's your business," she said with a dour tone.

Ettoh swallowed down the growing lump in her throat. "I...I didn't mean..."

There was a tense silence between them where Grett glared at her and Ettoh couldn't think of anything to say.

In her panic, her brain simply refused to put any more words together. So Ettoh did the only thing she felt she could do- she stood up and swept, mortified, out of the bar. She fought back hot, drunk tears all the way back to her apartment, and she crashed onto her bed as soon as she got home. She spent the rest of the night awake, ruminating over could-haves and should-have-nots.

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Hax watched Ettoh beat another hasty retreat. Alarm was still coursing through her veins and she could almost still hear the Vortian's words ringing in her antennae.

"You don't look like you're from here!"

"I was wondering where you came from..."

...Was it possible she...knew...?

Hax scoffed silently at herself after a moment. A flighty thing like Ettoh? Seeing through her decades' worth of experience in espionage? There was no way.

Something else wasn't sitting right with her, though. It was an entirely different kind of unpleasantness, one almost feeling like regret, but worse. Regret over what, though, Hax couldn't identify. She elected to chalk her troubled headspace, too, up to the alcohol, and ordered another round.

Fuck, this was why she always drank alone.

The bartender caught her eye as he served her her drink, and she only responded to his questioning glance with the monies to cover her bill. After a moment, she realized that Ettoh hadn't paid when she rushed out. Maybe it was her impaired judgment, or maybe she was still thrown off by her strange encounters with the Vortian, but... Hax offered to cover Ettoh's bill too.

"That's mighty kind of you, but this sorta thing happens with young Ettoh," sighed the barkeep. "She always comes back to settle. Sometimes she just needs to...recover. Y'anno how it is."

Hax didn't. But if he was so sure, she'd keep her monies. She downed the last of her second glass and pushed her way out of the bar to begin the slow walk home. She found herself acutely aware of the desert-planet's arid breeze blowing over her disguised antennae and she mulled over useless things like round yellow eyes and white silk scarves.

As soon as she made it to her bed, she passed out cold.

Chapter Text

Ettoh watched the sun rise the next morning feeling like a dead weight.
The whole debacle last night seemed silly to her in hindsight. She may have overreacted a bit. She should apologize to Grett for ditching her at the bar…
Ettoh rolled over to face away from the daylight filtering through her shuttered window blinds. She cringed a bit at the thought of trying to talk to Grett again. How many bad impressions was she going to force herself to make? It always ended this way anyways. She’d meet someone new, make a fool of herself, and disappear off their radar in shame. She couldn’t see any reason why Grett should be subjected to that nonsense too.
She gripped the blanket a little in one claw. She was not going to lay here all day feeling sorry for herself. Maybe just a little while longer…but not too long. She could decide whether to follow up with Grett when she was feeling better. First, she needed to wash up. That usually helped her feel a little better.

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Ettoh emerged from the dustbath feeling a bit more like herself, albeit still a little tired. She also felt peckish and decided to root around in her sparse pantry for something to snack on. Her cabinets were nearly bare, she found. She failed to scavenge anything but a few sauces and seasoning packets. Ettoh was truthfully tempted just to go back to bed on an empty stomach.
She shouldn’t go much longer without a meal, though, she realized with a sigh. She’d already skipped dinner last night. Like it or not, she needed to hit the marketplace today. She should also probably stop by Heedon’s and apologize for making a scene. Come to think of it…did she even pay for her drink last night? Ettoh huffed at herself in annoyance.
She grabbed her grocery satchel from its hook by the doorway and took a deep breath. The world outside was too bright and loud, but maybe the fresh air would do her some good. It was better than moping inside all day, at least.

Ettoh’s stroll through town was peaceful up until she reached the marketplace. The colorfully-decorated stalls and their clamoring vendors were an immediate assault upon both the senses and one’s personal space. The merchants waved signs and samples in front of her face as she pushed past, speaking over each other so she couldn’t make out what any one of them was saying. Ettoh tried to be as polite as possible, but when one particularly aggressive salesman tried to grab her wrist to smear some sort of cosmetic on it, she decided she’d had enough and started pushing her way past the crowd. She wasn’t here for exotic perfumes or accessories or whatever, and she was certainly not here to get scammed into spending way too many monies on a jar of Flurbalgae to smear on her face to “detoxify” it again.
She reached the grocery stalls at last, feeling rather frazzled. Because the Refuge was built on Terra Two’s only oasis, and could fortunately dedicate a considerable amount of it to agriculture, there was never any shortage of farmers selling their seasonal harvest. Ettoh loved the smell of the fresh produce and exotic florals this part of the market district offered, and was grateful that the vendors here were considerably less aggressive. With renewed enthusiasm Ettoh flitted from stall to stall, testing this Plumpeach for ripeness and that legume for bruising. She frankly could’ve spent all day there, and she almost did.

The sun was beginning to set when Ettoh realized she may have spent too much time (and perhaps too many monies) on her groceries. Oh, well. She never could bring herself to regret the occasional retail therapy session.

Satisfied with her selection, Ettoh made her way to the entertainment district, where the local restaurants and hangouts were located. Her anxiety spiked once again as she came up to the entryway of Heedon’s. She just had to get this over with. Ettoh tried to slip in as quietly as she could.
“Heyo, there she is!” Heedon declared for the whole bar to hear. Ettoh cringed a bit as the other patrons turned their attention to her. She avoided eye contact with them as she slunk to the bar where Heedon was wiping down the barstand.

“So what’ll it be, m’dear?” Heedon asked. Ettoh shook her head.
“Actually, I’m here to settle the bill,” Ettoh responded in a small voice. “From last night.”
“It’s no shame, young’un,” Heedon chuckled good-naturedly. “I knew you’d’a come back to settle eventually. Y’anno, that gal—Grett, wazzit?—offered ta’ settle for you last night. Told ‘er it was real kind of ‘er but you never did wrong by none. I think she took an eye to ye.”
Ettoh sighed as she signed off on her belated transaction. “I don’t know…she probably just felt bad. I don’t think she liked me much at all, to be honest. Sorry, Heedon, I think I chased away another new customer.”
Heedon just clicked his tongue pityingly. “It’ll come together for ye, if ya let it. Don’t be so hard on yerself, Ettoh. Ye’re a good one.”
Ettoh just gave him a wan smile and a muttered, “Thanks.” She decided she probably shouldn’t have any more alcohol—especially after having missed several meals in a row—so she bade Heedon goodbye and toted her grocery bag back outside. She hadn’t realized just how dark it had gotten until she stepped outside into the warm glow of Terra Two’s twin moons rising past the horizon line. She should probably get back home, she thought, truthfully not in any hurry to do so. She wanted much more to enjoy the temperate night air, now without the pressure of personal responsibilities weighing on her shoulders. She decided to skirt around the market district on her way home so as to avoid whatever night life might still remain.

She’d been on Terra Two her whole life, so she knew every shortcut like the back of her claws. Sure, some of them were a bit isolated, and maybe even a little creepy, but she’d never had any problems using them. This particular night, though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Once or twice she heard some sort of skittering behind her, but when she looked, saw nothing. No reason to panic, though, she’d just keep her wits about her and it would all be fine.
She managed to keep her cool until she heard the distinct sound of a footstep behind her, and she whipped around to see a large, looming figure not twenty paces away. They stopped when she turned to face them, and then shuffled towards her even faster. Without another thought Ettoh took off running, and she could hear her pursuer give chase. She rounded corners and ducked into alleys, hoping to lose them, but she just couldn’t seem to. It wasn’t until she came face-to-face with a solid cement wall that she realized in her panic she’d gotten turned around, and was now cornered.
Whoever had been chasing her slowed to a leisurely pace. Their features were obscured by the city’s shadows, but Ettoh could make out a pudgy hog-like face and dark, beady purple eyes. The stranger seemed to be sneering.
“W-what do you want,” she demanded, clutching her grocery bag to her chest. It was getting hard to breathe through her panic.
The figure muttered something at her in a language she didn’t understand. She looked around wildly for some way out but they were too close. There were buildings on either side of her, and a wall against her back. She’d have to push past this person. She’d have to do it fast.
The stranger kept repeating their question in an increasingly louder, angrier voice. They apparently did not like Ettoh’s refusal to answer and decided to get up in her face about it. Ettoh tried to ram past them, ducking her head down to use her horns as leverage if need be like her mother once showed her; the stranger remained unphased and instead grabbed one of her horns, painfully, and yanked her to the ground. The street hit her head with a harsh sound and Ettoh cried out at the sudden blow. Under the ringing in her head she could hear the stranger full-on screaming at her. She closed her eyes tight, bracing for another blow…which never came.
Her head was still swimming but she forced her eyes open. The stranger lay in front of her, eyes wide in a look of shock and bleeding profusely from their head. Ettoh struggled up to her hands and haunches and scrambled to put some distance between them. She jumped at the sound of another person’s footsteps—these lighter and more leisurely than the stranger’s—and whipped her head around to see…

…Grett?

It was dark and Grett was half-turned away from her, standing over the stranger. But something about her was off.
Ettoh thought at first she must be concussed, because it seemed like Grett was flickering, like a television screen. Grett responded to this by fidding frustratedly with something at the base of her left horn, spitting something in yet another language Ettoh couldn’t understand. And then she just…faded from existence. Ettoh couldn’t help the loud gasp that left her as she realized someone much smaller stood in “Grett’s” place.
The stranger who’d attacked Ettoh seemed shocked too and gargled out something up at the newcomer. The small person said nothing but calmly strode up astride stranger’s bloodied face.
Ettoh screamed a little when the little one brought the heel of their boot down onto the larger’s skull with a sickening crack.
Apparently satisfied, they finally turned to her and as they emerged from the shadows, Ettoh’s horror only grew. She felt frozen as she stared into the luminescent scarlet eyes of one of the universe’s most feared beings: an Irken. An Irken who apparently had decided Ettoh was next.
Ettoh had almost begun to beg for her life when the Irken deployed some sort of camera-looking device from the metal attachment on its back. A bright white flash momentarily lit up the alleyway and in an instant Ettoh could feel her consciousness slipping. Before she slipped into darkness the last she saw was the Irken’s impartial countenance glowering, unwavering, down at her in the night.

Chapter Text

Hax had no choice but to deploy her emergency Invisifying Nanobots to hide herself as she dragged Ettoh’s unconscious form back to her base. Her holographic disguise was bust in the fight with the bounty hunter and Ettoh had seen what lay beneath—it just wasn’t an ideal outcome.

Hax dragged them both around back of the apartment building, where her own apartment’s window faced away from the street. It was a convenient covert entrance, and a large reason Hax had chosen this particular location. Hax deployed her PAK legs and carefully scaled to the window, which unlocked and slid open in reaction to her biosignature, just as she’d rigged it to do.
She dissipated the Nanbobots and shut the window firmly behind her. She left Ettoh lying on the floor a moment as she dug around a nearby dresser for—there it was. A small metal cube which, when she set it in the middle of the room and pushed the switch on top, unfolded itself into an operating table, complete with limb restraints. Hax used her PAK legs to lift the larger alien onto the table before locking her arms and legs down.

Hax estimated Ettoh should be unconscious for a while yet. She had to be awake for what Hax needed to do.
Hax scoured her many shelves and storage units before she found the necessary device. It had multiple sticky-pads attached by long wires to each other, and to a central box which blinked with multiple screens and tiny lights when Hax turned it on. She brought it to her Computer desk and connected an auxiliary cable to the device. Her Computer’s screen lit up with many options and technical details for her perusal.
To be honest, Hax wasn’t even certain the thing would work. She’d bought it from some shady InterGalacNet site for relatively cheap on a whim. She thought she would be able to do without it, but here she was. Caught between a rock and a hard place.
There was no other option, though, Hax told herself. A traitorous voice in her head chided her that there very well was.

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Hax scrolled through parameters and options for the device well into the early morning, when she heard Ettoh begin to stir. Hax didn’t look back until she could hear the Vortian jostling her restraints.
Hax swiveled her chair around and rose to inspect her captive, who was breathing hard and scanning the room with round, yellow eyes. When their gazes met, Ettoh’s tongue seemed to jump start. “Y-you-!”
She huffed, hoping to cut the Vortian off. Ettoh did not take the hint. “You’re an—but Grett—what did you do with her?! What do you want?! Let me go, you monster, you-!”

“Enough,” Hax barked in her best terrifying-alien-menace voice. She just needed to get this over with. She silently thanked her past self for soundproofing her apartment’s walls.

“This won’t take long.”

Ettoh’s eyes got even wider at that. “Vort, are you actually going to kill me…?”
Hax felt one of her antenna twitch with irritation. “No. I’m going to use this—” she held up the now fully-calibrated device for Ettoh to see—“Mindwiping Device to wipe your memories of the past week. You will fall asleep, and when you wake up, you will have no new neighbor, no recollection of ‘Grett’, and no incriminating information about my true identity. It will all be very quick.”

Ettoh just looked confused. “Why wouldn’t you just kill me? I’m a loner, very few people would notice anyway.”

Hax sneered at her. “What, so you want me to kill you then, like I did Big Ugly last night?”

Ettoh flinched but pressed on. “I mean, no, but it would just be easier don’t you think, and I’m just wondering-“

“-Why a bloodthirsty Irken monster would spare your pathetic existence when you know too much?” Hax finished, reigning in her outburst in favor of her normally cold exterior. “It’s precisely because you are a loner. The few connections you have on this faltering excuse of a refugee site would consider the Newcomer you’d just befriended the number one suspect.”

“If you wanted to you could have just let that guy kill me last night, or killed both of us and made it seem like we killed each other, or-“

“Enough!” Hax snapped again, louder this time. This Vortian didn’t know when to keep her trap shut! How dense could someone be?! “I don’t have to explain my motives to you. Now sit still so we can get this over with.”

Ettoh was silent as Hax attached the Mindwiper’s stick-pads along her cranium. Before Hax could power up the device, though, Ettoh insisted on one more question.
Hax sighed longsufferingly. “Irk, what is it now?”

“What do you even want with the Refuge here?” Ettoh demanded.

“Why would I tell you that?” Hax deadpanned.

“Because you’re going to wipe my memories anyways and it doesn’t make sense for the Empire to waste resources terrorizing such a small, sparsely populated refuge when they have so many bigger fish to fry?”

Hax glared at her in silence for a moment. She was just going to turn on the device before Ettoh could get any more questions in, but—
She hadn’t really gotten to tell her story to anyone else yet, had she?

Before she knew it, her tongue was running without her. “I don’t work for the Empire anymore. And you’re right. The Empire doesn’t care to employ Irken forces out here because there are bounty hunters willing to capture and sell you runaways back to them anyway. The man who attacked you last night? He was one.”
Ettoh, for once, seemed speechless at this answer. Despite herself, Hax kept going.
“I’ve been monitoring the movements of known bounty hunters in this area since I got here. You have quite a few circling the Refuge but none of them got up the courage to try anything until last night. I decided to make an example of him, and you just happened to be his target.”

“Okay…why don’t you work for the Empire anymore? Aren’t Irkens supposed to be mindless slaves to their leaders or something-“

Hax growled low in her throat. “No more questions. Sleep well.” And she jammed a claw into the “BEGIN PROCEDURE” button on the Mindwiper’s interface.

Ettoh’s eyes widened and she cried out in surprise as the device around her thrummed with an increasingly frequent pulse. She struggled against her restraints as Hax monitored the device closely, ignoring the returning feeling of sour regret settling in her throat. This wasn’t so bad, she reminded herself. She could do worse.
The device stopped as soon as it began, and Hax could immediately tell something was very wrong. Its lights and screen were dark, with no confirmation message in sight. Hax raised her eyes to see Ettoh staring back at her, not unconscious as she should have been, but wide awake and apparently very cognizant.

“It didn’t work!” Ettoh half-whispered to herself. Hax felt an irrational fury burn in her gut for a moment. “Haha! Your scary torture device didn’t work!”

“It’s not a torture device,” Hax protested through gritted teeth, but the Vortian ignored her. She didn’t know why she was surprised this piece of junk malfunctioned. She should have invested in something more reliable. Something with more reviews, with company recommendation, anything--

“So, you won’t kill me, and your memory-erasing thing didn’t work, and I know about you—so what are you going to do now?”

Hax felt the beginnings of panic settling in her chest. She had to think of something, or she really might just have to kill Ettoh. But that would mean being on the run again, and being alone out in space again, and she couldn’t do it-
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she rasped, realizing how breathless she’d become. “Anything you want. I’ll find a way. Don’t tell anyone about me.”

Ettoh narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Anything?”

“Yes,” Hax ground out through her teeth. “Anything.”

“So…If I want to look at your creepy Irken spy tech?”

“Yes.”

“If I want you to answer all my questions about you? And Irk?”

“Yes…”

“ALL of them?”

“Augh! Yes! Do you agree or not?!”

Ettoh’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Yes. I accept. Now…release me from this scary table thing.”

Hax swallowed and unshackled Ettoh’s arms and legs. She knew very well that the Vortian could just leverage this situation to get as much information out of her as possible before exposing her to the Refuge. But she was out of options.

She couldn’t kill her. She just…couldn’t.

Hax guessed this was why she was such a terrible scout for the Empire.
Ettoh stretched out her stiff limbs and rose to her full height. Hax hadn’t realized just how much taller than her the Vortian was. But now, feeling cornered and feeling caught, she couldn’t help it. She just felt so small.
So she just waved dismissively. “You’re free to go.”
Ettoh smirked a bit at her, as if already plotting. Hax just turned away and began packing up her equipment. She knew very well letting Ettoh go free could be a grave mistake.

But Hax just couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Chapter Text

Ettoh returned to the Irken’s base the next morning. She’d decided to postpone exposing the Irken’s identity in favor of exploiting their little “agreement”—she wanted to interrogate Hax about her technology, her plans, her resources. The Irken probably wouldn’t tell her anything of the truth, but if she slipped up—well. That would just make this easier.

When the Irken answered the door she was in her “Grett” disguise. Ettoh had sort of figured out that Grett was never real, but it was still unnerving to be led inside by a familiar Vortian face only for it to dissolve into the foreign, sharp-featured visage of an Irken. Ettoh swallowed down her unease, plastering on her best poker face and gripping the pen and notepad in her claws. Time to see just how far this rabbit hole went.

“I have some questions,” she asserts firmly, brandishing the pen and pad. The Irken nodded slowly, large almond-shaped eyes betraying no emotion. Ettoh cleared her throat, notepad at the ready.

“Okay, first: your name isn’t Grett, is it?”

“No. Vortian ‘Grett’ was and is simply my disguise while inhabiting this planet. There is no Grett,” the Irken confirmed. Ettoh felt a twinge of disappointment but pushed it aside, willing herself to focus on the task at hand.

“My real name,” the Irken continued, “is Hax.”

“Hax?” Ettoh raised a brow. “No rank or title?” An unusual introduction for an Irken. They took pride in the roles they played for their Empire.

One of Hax’s antennae twitched. “No. No rank or title.” Her features grew a little more stone-faced.

Ettoh stared her down a bit, trying to decide if she was lying or not, before deciding to press on. “Okay…Hax. Next I want to see the PAK technology. Those robot legs, the disguise, and…” she glanced down at her notepad for reference. “…Whatever it was you used to knock me out.”

She was expecting resistance of some sort, but Hax merely nodded again and moved to the center of her living room, where she had more space. She deployed the sharp, spidery legs from her PAK, and Ettoh scribbled quick notes while Hax explained their capabilities as weapons, tools, and means of transportation. Ettoh was surprised at the level of depth Hax was willing to go to, even demonstrating how the PAK legs could convert themselves into a variety of useful gadgets at her whim. Ettoh felt a sense of awe as Hax explained to her how her holographic disguise module could shift the wavelengths of light travelling around her to form her Vortian disguise. Hax explained that she could not demonstrate the disguise because an implant in her cranial structure was busted during the fight the night before, and needed repair before it could operate again.

Despite herself, Ettoh was fascinated with the cunning technology at Hax’s disposal. Of course, she realized that it all just made her that much more of a danger to the citizens of the Refuge—but she could still appreciate the technological wonders for what they were.

Hax at last deployed what she called the Whiteout Beam, the device she used to render Ettoh unconscious the night before. Ettoh shivered at the sight of it pointing towards her, but Hax did not seem to notice as she was too wrapped up in explaining how the innocuous-seeming lens could overstimulate a target and overwhelm their central nervous system, causing it to shut down.

“You were lucky,” Hax adds with a hint of a humorous smile. “You didn’t suffer the occasional side effect of violent seizure.”

Ettoh shivered a bit.

Ettoh questioned and took notes more on the technology scattered about Hax’s makeshift base, and couldn’t help but notice how few items were necessarily lethal in nature. She figured Hax must be hiding the weaponry elsewhere, to prevent giving Ettoh the tactical advantage.

There was one bit of weaponry that she couldn’t hide, though.

“I want to see your PAK,” Ettoh demanded next.

Hax twitched an antenna up curiously but she turned around, giving the Vortian a full view of the red-spotted machinery.

“No, I mean…I want to see everything inside,” Ettoh pressed. She could only imagine what kind of horrendous instruments of death the Irken must keep on her.

Hax whipped around, antennae pinned back and eyes wider than usual. “You want to open my PAK? Why?”

Ettoh drew herself up to full height so she could look down stubbornly at the Irken. “I want to see what else you could use against my people.”

“I have showed you what the PAK can do,” Hax deflected.

“I bet you haven’t shown me everything,” Ettoh shot back.

Hax chuffed a bit in nervousness and didn’t answer. Ettoh crossed her arms impatiently, but Hax just stared back up at her, face intense.
“Well?” Ettoh pressed before she could lose her nerve. Hax opened her mouth, closed it again, and then answered:

“I don’t want to.”

If Ettoh didn’t feel uncomfortable before, she certainly did now. Hax didn’t sound like she was being defiant. Actually…she looked cornered.

“Uh…fine. Whatever…” Ettoh cleared her throat and averted her gaze, feeling a wave of shame, for some reason. She shouldn’t feel ashamed for trying to understand this threat to her people. But Hax had seemed almost a little afraid of her in that moment. It was such a shift, Ettoh couldn’t help but feel thrown off.
Hax seemed to relax, at least. She could very well be hiding something very incriminating in her PAK, but…

Ettoh hoped a little she wasn’t. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.

They finished the tour of Hax’s base, but Ettoh wasn’t finished. She needed to know before she left why Hax was here. Or at least, she needed to hear whatever story Hax would give her.
Because it was becoming increasingly clear to Ettoh that something was off.

There were no weapons around the base. Except for the PAK incident, Hax answered all of her questions, showed her anything she wanted to see, explained the full extent of her immediate resources. She showed no signs of lying but became distressed if Ettoh mentioned discrepancies between Hax and “most Irkens”. And most of all…
The Empire insignia wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Not on her uniform, not on her base technology, not decorating the inside of her base. Nowhere.
Ettoh, like everyone who grew up in the Refuge, was educated extensively on what to look out for to identify an undercover Irken. Irkens touted their allegiance to the Empire in any way they could without getting caught. They would refuse to say certain things of themselves, the Empire, or their leaders—anything the Empire would deem blasphemy. They would show disdain for any and all other lifeforms, even while trying to blend in amongst them.

Ettoh needed to see how Hax handled those topics. Hax could just be over-careful, not displaying any Irken insignias in her base in case someone broke in. She could just have good acting skills, seeming more approachable than she really was. But...
Ettoh hadn’t met any Irkens before. Things between the one she had standing in front of her and the ones she’d been taught about just weren’t adding up.
“One more question, and I’ll leave you alone,” she announced. Hax stopped and looked up at her, looking a bit tired.

“Ask.”

“What do you want with the Refuge?”

“The same as anyone else here,” Hax answered easily. “I seek refuge from the Irken Empire.”

Now that was not what Ettoh was expecting to hear.

“Wh- Why would you need to hide from the Empire? You’re Irken!”

Hax averted her gaze a bit, gaze hardening. “You would not understand.”

That feeling Ettoh had of something being very wrong flared up anew, and Ettoh couldn’t stop herself. “It’s not like you’d ever be a threat to the Empire, or anything. You expect me to believe this?”

Hax turned her glare on her and bared her teeth a bit. “Believe, or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Ettoh flinched a bit at the sudden aggression. She felt she was being left with more questions than answers. Hax genuinely seemed upset, but she was telling Ettoh what could only be an egregious lie. Irkens were a hive-mind. They didn’t just break off from their colony. The story Hax was telling her just didn’t make sense.

“What would you do if I exposed you the everyone in the Refuge, right now,” Ettoh asked carefully, a little breathlessly.

“I would have to pack up my base and find somewhere new to inhabit if I wanted to live,” Hax answered evenly. Then, a pause. “But I don’t think I would, this time.”
“Why…?”

Hax crossed her arms and took a slow breath, before asking a question of her own.

“Ettoh, have you ever been in space on your own?”

“No, I haven’t,” Ettoh answered, a bit dumbstruck.

“It is suffocating. I would rather die than do it again.”

Hax was glaring up at her, as if daring her to challenge the statement. Ettoh found herself speechless. She gave a mute nod, and turned to show herself out.

Even as she closed the door behind her, she couldn’t scrub from her mind the desperate look in Hax’s large, red eyes as she admitted that she could feel suffering. That she ran from it.

That was one of the things Irkens were never allowed to say of themselves.

Ettoh’s claws felt cold.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Ettoh continued to visit Hax’s apartment to needle information out of her. Hax noticed that since that first day of interrogation, Ettoh seemed to ease off her confrontational attitude (even if she remained a bit wary). On one day when Hax wondered what else the Vortian could possibly interrogate her about, Ettoh asked her how she got to Terra Two from Irk-controlled space.

“In a ship, of course,” Hax responded. Ettoh’s small round eyes widened a bit.

“Do you still have the ship?” she asked, rejuvenated by the prospect of new reconnaissance.

Hax nodded. “It resides far outside the walls of the Refuge, out in the desert. I had to land it there so it wouldn’t be easy to find. Just in case.”

As per usual, Ettoh asked to see it. The ship was rather far into Terra Two’s scorching desert, so they would have to pick up some supplies from the marketplace to prevent dehydration and hyperthermia. Ettoh turned to lead the way before stopping abruptly, causing Hax to nearly bump into her.

“Wait! What about your disguise?” she asked.

Hax cocked an antenna. “…What about it?”

“I thought it was broken?”

Hax blinked at her uncomprehendingly before realizing that Ettoh didn’t know much about PAK biotechnology or its self-repairing capabilities. “Oh, that. It’s fixed by now.” Hax raised a claw to the spot on her head where the implant was located, just below the base of her right antenna, and her holographic disguise deployed, good as new. Ettoh watched with her jaw dropped a little. Hax found the Vortian’s wonder at military-grade technology amusing, to say the least.

Thus they made their way to the market district. Hax, truthfully, had not paid much attention to this part of the Refuge, as she’d already brought the majority of what she needed to survive on her own, and was not willing to waste monies on useless trinkets. Still, she found herself begrudgingly curious about some of the vendors, and one stall in particular caught her eye. It was draped in many different elegant accessories, from jewelry to scarves. She must have stopped walking, because Ettoh circled back to Hax’s side, where she followed the Irken’s gaze to the stall.

“Oh hey, that’s where I got my scarf!” she chirped. Hax was about to insist they keep walking when Ettoh grabbed her wrist and rushed them both in the direction of the stall, sporting a wide grin on her face. Hax dug her heels in when they approached the vendor—another Vortian with shrewd orange eyes, wearing gaudy bangles and amulets that jingled enticingly as he moved. Being around strange Vortians made her uncomfortable, like if they looked too close they might see through her disguise.

She couldn’t remember if she’d ever felt that trepidation around Ettoh, though…

“Ettoh, good to see ya. Who’s your friend?” the vendor greeted them amicably.

“Oh, this is H-…uh, Grett!” Ettoh answered cheerily. Hax grit her teeth a little at the almost-slip up.

“Nice to meet ya. Name’s Drepf,” the vendor answered, lazily extending a claw in greeting. Hax shook it with only a nod.

“Uh…well. Take a good look around, take your time,” Dref said, returning to slouching over the counter. Hax busied herself examining some nearby scarves. The colors were a bit gaudy for her taste. She wasn’t too familiar with fashion, if she was honest. It wasn’t like she’d ever really needed to be.

She heard Ettoh give a pitched gasp behind her and looked up. The Vortian was holding a bright red bandana, eyes shining. She practically jumped Hax, tying the bandana around her neck in a smooth motion. The Vortian stepped back and bounced on her delicate toes in excitement, taking in her newly-decorated companion.

“Oh stars, it’s so cute!” the Vortian gushed. “It’s exactly your color!”

Hax was not altogether sure what Ettoh meant by that but figured it was code for “it’s the same color as your eyes so I’m going to make you wear it”.

“We’ll take it!” Ettoh announced to the vendor, who gladly accepted her monies. Hax was not sure how to feel about Ettoh making a purchase for her, but…the fabric did feel sort of nice. And the color was not as terrible as the others.

So she let it slide. This time.

Once they had picked up the supplies they’d need to brave Terra Two’s barren desert wastes, Hax led the way through winding back roads to the Refuge’s massive concrete East Wall. Once she assured herself there were no prying eyes, she wordlessly scooped Ettoh up from around the waist and lifted them both into the air on her PAK legs. She scaled the wall easily, clamping a claw over Ettoh’s mouth to silence her sputtering, lest they draw attention to themselves. When they touched down on the other side, Ettoh shot her a bemused look but said nothing. Hax shrugged and began to lead the way.

The red-sanded desert was barren except for the occasional jagged rock formation or towering sand dunes. Now that they had left the Refuge’s climate-controlled perimeter, Terra Two’s proximate sun beat down with a harsh glare. Hax and Ettoh were left with no choice but to distract themselves from their mounting discomfort if they were to ration their supplies for the trip back.

“You know,” panted Ettoh, digitigrade legs struggling to wade through the deep fine sand, “I’ve never actually—hahh--been outside the Refuge walls before. Not like this, anyways.”

“There isn’t much to see, from my experience,” Hax replied. “When I first landed here I thought there must be no native life at all. I thought this planet’s solar star must be too close and have fried anything organic that tried to evolve. I did see a creature once, though.”

“Out here? Was it big?”

“No, not at all.” Hax waved a dismissive claw. “Some small reptile-thing. I was climbing a very tall dune. It took me almost an hour to scale it, and I was almost to the top, when the wretched little beast sprang out of the sand making this horrible racket.” Even in the heat Hax felt her face warm a little. “It…scared me and I fell back down the dune.”

Ettoh snorted loudly. “What, you just rolled down the hill like a little tumbleweed until you landed face-first at the bottom?”

Hax tried to look indignant but couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at her face. “You wouldn’t be so damn smug if it was you. You grew up in air conditioning.”

“Someone raised in a factory can’t possibly judge me for living in a climate controlled environment,” Ettoh retaliated.

Hax chuckled, deciding not to mention that she’d existed in a harsh, multi-environmental military program since she’d been born. Instead, she deployed a tracking screen from her PAK, which marked her own location on a digital map and plotted the nearest course to her Jugg Voyager. Only a little ways more to go, at least, she thought with relief.

At last they came upon it, and the ship uncloaked itself automatically in Hax’s presence. The Jugg was comfortably sized, pod-shaped, deep purple, and housed just enough space for a small cockpit and an even smaller living area. Ettoh breathed a small “whoa!” as it appeared and trotted over, examining it with renewed enthusiasm.

Hax approached the ship and the entry hatch opened. The two climbed aboard, and if Ettoh was excited by the ship’s exterior, she was ecstatic about being inside. Hax realized it was possible the Vortian had never been aboard a starship before, if she’d been born in the Refuge.

The ship’s entry hatch sealed with the woosh of compressing air, and Hax felt a pit in her stomach form at the all-to-familiar change in atmosphere. She carried a superficial pride in her ship, as all pilots do, but...

Hax had to busy herself bragging about the ship’s functions to Ettoh, to keep from feeling too suffocated.

Ettoh clearly had no idea what Hax was talking about, but listened intently anyway. And, as usual, after hearing Hax’s piece the Vortian scampered around, flitting from one module to the next compartment, asking endless questions. Hax wondered if she’d ever felt so much excitement over being in a ship for the first time.

They’d cooled down, and with Ettoh’s curiosity more or less satisfied, it was time to be off. But before they left, Hax needed to be sure of something.

“Ettoh…humor me. And be honest.”

The Vortian turned to her, eyes glinting curiously.

Hax kept her voice steady. “Will you tell anyone about this ship? Or…me?”

Ettoh looked caught for a second, nervously shuffling a hoofed foot. “I…was going to. At first. But I think…I’ve decided to believe you. About everything.” She quirked a nervous smile. “At least for now.”

Hax wasn’t, truthfully, completely satisfied with this answer. But with a breath, she acknowledged that it was probably the best she could have hoped for, given their current situation. So the Irken merely nodded and gave a forced smile, and suggested they return to the Refuge while the day was still young. So the two set out, a tense silence settled between them.

Chapter Text

When they returned to the Refuge something was obviously different.

Sunset had begun once again and it seemed that over the course of the day the whole Refuge had changed its tone. Streets where people would normally mill about were almost empty. INTRUDER ALERTs were projected onto every available screen surface, warning citizens of the Refuge to stay inside and report suspicious activity. Ettoh could sense Hax’s increasing wariness as they weaved through alleyway and sidestreet back to the apartments.

They were stopped at the entrance by an armed Vortian in Refuge Guard uniform.

“Personal identification and proof of citizenship, please,” he ordered.

Ettoh quickly dug hers out of her coat pocket and after a moment of scanning it, the guard nodded and turned to Hax.

“I…left it at home,” Hax muttered. The Guard tightened his claws around his weapon.

“All citizens of the Refuge are required by law to carry their identification records and proof of citizenship on their person at all times in case of lockdown,” he growled.

“If you’ll escort me to my apartment I can get it for you,” Hax replied, terse.

Hax didn’t bring any fake ID with her? Did she not know about the Proof of Person laws or something? Ettoh chuffed and decided to intervene.

“This is really a big misunderstanding,” she cut in with a polite smile. “Grett here is just a newcomer to the Refuge, she just forgot is all! Surely there’s protocol for if someone forgets, right? Doesn’t this happen all the time?”

She swallowed a bit under the guard’s intimidating glare. “Yes, there is protocol for situations like this,” he said. “Such protocol demands that the suspect individual be taken in for further questioning by the Guard until proof of citizenship has been provided or seized from the residence by authorities. Hands in the air, do not attempt to resist arrest, or I will have to use force.” And with that, he advanced on Hax, deploying the pair of energy cuffs which had been hanging at his hip.

Ettoh watched wide-eyed and babbling protests as Hax reluctantly held her arms in the air. The guard forced them behind her back and cuffed them securely together, snapping at Ettoh to go home. Hax shot her one last look as she let herself be jostled away. Before she could be dragged out of sight, Ettoh watched as something small and delicate looking dropped seemingly from the thin air where Hax’s disguised PAK remained invisible.

When the guard and Hax were out of sight, Ettoh snatched up the trinket. It seemed to be a small microchip of some sort. Hax wouldn’t have dropped something from her PAK on accident…she probably wanted Ettoh to use this somehow.

“Crap, crap…” Ettoh turned and stormed into the apartment. She rode the elevator up to their floor and marched to Hax’s front door. It was locked, as usual, and if Ettoh remembered correctly would not unlock unless it read Hax’s biosignature nearby. Which was impossible now because Hax was being dragged off to face justice.

Ettoh turned over the microchip in her claws. She’d hoped this thing would open Hax’s base somehow. But even as she tried to tap it against the doorframe, wave it around in the air, anything at all, it didn’t seem to do much. What did Hax want her to do with it?

Ettoh paced back and forth in front of the door, as if desperation alone would somehow cause it to unlock. “C’mon, Ettoh, think…”

What were her options? She could try to forge an identity for “Grett” and turn in her fake identification papers, but she had no idea how to do that, and she had no pictures of Grett to make the fake records with anyways. Hax was saying she could provide the records if she was allowed back to her base. That may have just been a ruse, but…Maybe Hax had something in her base which could fabricate records accurately? Or could at least help her know what she needed to do to make one herself?

Ettoh couldn’t break into Hax’s apartment through the door or windows because they were reinforced.

Come to think of it though…They were neighbors. They did share a wall.

With a determined set of her brow Ettoh darted into her own apartment.

She ran a mental diagnostic of her things. She needed something she could break through the walls with without making too much noise. She couldn’t afford to raise suspicion, especially if a guard had already seen her accompanying Hax. She examined the wall, knocking a knuckle against it and hearing its hollow echo behind the plaster. This was going to be expensive to repair…

She dragged her toolkit down from its high shelf in her closet and rummaged through it. She didn’t have a hammer big enough to knock through the wall, but she did have the chisel, a drill, and small handsaw Heedon had gifted her when she temporarily took up woodworking. It wasn’t enough to actually break through the wall though…

The long wooden leg of her barstool caught Ettoh’s eye. Maybe…?

She snagged the hand saw and got busy until she was left with a three-legged barstool and one tool of property destruction. It was light, possibly too light for her needs, but it would have to work—she’d have to make it work.

With a breath Ettoh hefted the chair leg and lunged forward with its foot-end pointed at the wall, like a battering ram. It took less force than she expected to punch a hole in the drywall, and at least now she had an opening. She tossed the chair leg aside and used her claws to tear at the drywall. It took a few minutes and dislodging more than a few splinters from her palm, but she’d torn her way through, only to be met with a gap of open space and another layer of drywall. Ettoh took up the chair leg again and made short work of the other side of the drywall. She scrapped to make the hole big enough to climb through until she could stumble into Hax’s apartment. It was dark, and significantly creepier now that it was vacant. Ettoh shook off her trepidation and made her way over to Hax’s Computer, examining the dashboard.

There were all sorts of cryptic symbols and Irken characters labelling a vast array of buttons, switches, and monitors. Ettoh didn’t know a lick of Irken and she wouldn’t be surprised if the Irkens made sure no one else did. She pressed a large red button, holding her breath. The Computer didn’t respond, so she pressed and held down the button…still nothing. Ettoh grunted in frustration and began flipping switches, mashing buttons, pulling levers, whatever she could get her claws on. The Computer remained unresponsive.

“Dammit, turn on!” Ettoh swore at it. It did not reply.

Ettoh huffed and turned the microchip Hax left her with over in her claws. Maybe Hax wanted her to use it with the Computer? If that was true, she must have thought Ettoh could operate the Computer. So at least it probably wasn’t tied to Hax’s biosignature like the base was.

Ettoh took a breath and tried to remember what Hax had done when she’d shown Ettoh the Computer for the first time. She’d sat down in the chair and typed a series of the small grey buttons. It was a start.

Ettoh plopped into the desk chair and took in the dashboard again. The grey buttons were arranged in a nine-by-nine panel and appeared unmarked. Hax must have typed some sort of passcode to get the Computer to begin functioning. So…Ettoh had to guess the keycode? She couldn’t even remember how many keys Hax had typed. Punching in every combination of keys would take an egregious amount of time…time she didn’t have. The guard had said that the authorities might try to seize Hax’s records themselves. That must’ve meant they were planning to search her apartment at some point… so Ettoh had to be quick, and she had to cover up her tracks. Stars, how was she supposed to pull all of this off?

She shook her head furiously at herself. She didn’t have time to overthink this. For now, she needed to break into Hax’s Computer and forge some believable identification records. Ettoh took a moment to center herself before fixing the keyboard a determined glare.

Hang in there, Hax, she thought. I’ve got you.

Chapter Text

When Hax received her first high-profile mission, she already had decades of experience in intelligence gathering for Irk. She weathered still more years’ worth of grueling military training, fighting her way tooth and nail to the top of her class come hell or high water. She bore years’ worth of keeping a stone-straight face through failure, agony, triumph. She clenched her jaw shut when her Tallers sabotaged her skirmish missions or took credit for her wins or tripped her in the streets and she didn’t complain, not to anyone, not fucking once. Despite it all, she and a handful of others were promoted to Scout status were chosen to be assigned various soon-to-be invasion targets for the commencement of Operation Impending Doom II.

She was assigned the trade-oriented metropolis of Vort, and when she had long boarded the Lug and punched in the coordinates for her station, and the fruition of all of her struggles and sacrifices finally, finally processed, she was overcome with a nearly euphoric sense of pride. She could hardly stop herself grinning like a lunatic. Vort was perhaps one of the most critical targets for the Tallests’ Operation, and frankly Hax had begun to think her efforts would never be rewarded. She’d heard about it happening to other smallers, and the fear of it ate at her for most of her existence. Not anymore, though. She’d earned the Empire’s trust, and that was all she could ever ask for. Finally she could reap the rewards of her dedication and sacrifice.

As the stars whizzed by the Lug’s starshield, Hax pulled up her debriefing report on the main console. She was part of a cohort of several other Scouts assigned to the planet; they would blend in with the native population and report everything there could possibly be to learn about the planet and its inhabitants. They would take note of every way its people and resources could benefit the Empire, and through their combined efforts, Vort would ultimately sit as the prize jewel on the Irken Empire’s crown as its primary military manufacturing hub. This feeling of being part of something unstoppable and bigger than herself? Hax could get absolutely drunk off of it.

The Vortians did not seem to be well prepared for a large-scale invasion, despite being fairly technologically savvy and regularly fending off pirates and bandits. It seemed they didn’t expect to be a target for intergalactic warfare, and why should they? They sold goods to nearly every other major power in their sector. Former Tallests Miyuki and Spork had even engaged in good faith trade negotiations with them.

In short, the minute Irk’s scouts touched down planetside, these poor goats would never know what hit them.

A few days of space travel later, Hax landed on Vort’s surface and busied herself deploying her base under the cover of night at the edge of a large city in the Varnas region called Yirn. In the span of that one night, she crafted a seamless cover and touched base with the other stationed scouts. When night bled into morning, Hax wasted no time beginning her reconnaissance. She did it all by the book, followed every protocol to a T, elegantly and on time, just like she’d been trained for the past—Irk, how long had she been preparing for this? She couldn’t remember exactly.

The Vortians of her base’s neighborhood, she learned, were generally very sociable creatures. It was not long before they noticed the presence of a newcomer to their fringe community and made attempts to connect with her. Hax hid perfectly her impulses to stare at their horns and digitigrade legs and emphatic flighty gesticulations whenever they spoke. She noted their social cues and mimicked them, so subtly, until they began to relax into familiarity around her presence. She would dole out false personal details just enough to seem trustworthy but private, sating their curiosity while simultaneously keeping it at bay. Time passed, and the locals began to trust her. This easy trust was their foremost weakness, she reported. As she ventured more frequent excursions into the city, she learned that this was a whole cultural attitude, even within the urban bustle.

The Vortians—or at least, the ones she interacted with—seemed to be naïve about the dangers of welcoming a newcomer so freely into their ranks. Hax might have envied their carefree attitude just a bit, but she couldn’t envy their foolishness.

The Irken spy network began to report intel on the Vortian government officials as one Scout had managed to blackmail information out of a bureaucrat’s most trusted confidant. Later, another Scout began keeping a report about a government conspiracy involving intergalactic narcotics trade, which may have been the key to Vort maintaining peace with its neighbors. The mission was going smoothly, but they needed something which could tip the scales in Irk’s favor. An ace in the hole, when exploited in tandem with all of the other weaknesses this planet had to offer. Hax was determined to be the one to find it.

So she plunged headfirst into the luxury technology manufacturing business. Varnas as a region boasted many of Vort’s luxury technology factories, with one particularly prominent manufacturer setting up shop in Yirn. Hax was no stranger to learning the ins and outs of foreign technology, and quickly landed herself a job in the assembly line at said factory. The security there was considerably tighter than she’d expected, but it proved only a nuisance as she bugged the factory, took copies of engineers’ notes, located the higher-ups’ places of residence and bugged those too. She’d almost worried that she’d gotten over-ambitious at first, until one of her plants picked up a passing conversation between two workers about how Corporate had cut costs on materials again.

Cutting costs on materials used for luxury trade goods which made up the primary export of a trade-priority planet? Maybe she was just desperate for something to look into rather than sifting through hours of inane prattling and workforce drama, but her gut told her not to pass it up. So she requested her fellow scouts look into any similar phenomena in their respective regions.

And lo and behold—her gut was right.

According to the communications between factory workers, it was no secret amongst those involved in Vort’s manufacturing facilities—planet-wide, manufacturers of all sorts of goods were ordering that factories use cheaper materials, cut corners on assembly, sometimes even design inherent defects or planned obsolescence into the product. One scout managed to swipe a transmission between two bigwigs on the subject, where one voiced his dissent with the scheme and the other mentioned that it didn’t matter what they thought because the Vortian government had ordered it into effect. And just like that, every Irken spy assigned to Vort was clamoring to gather more solid evidence of this conspiracy, because if Vort was scamming its trade partners—read, literally everyone—then this could be the lynchpin Irk needed to bring it to its knees.

They ended up with damning evidence of it all—recordings, legal documents, copies of government orders in writing. Months of hacking and spying later, Hax herself obtained the most damning piece of all—a highly secured legal document detailing the Vortian government’s decision. Apparently, the Vortian government wanted to cheapen the technology they traded to other civilizations to prevent them from reverse-engineering and improving upon the technology. Although the Vortian public remained blissfully unaware, it seemed that Vort had gotten wind that the Irkens were mobilizing, although they did not know to what extent, and Vort’s bureaucrats had decided to respond by quietly reinforcing Vort’s defenses while attempting to weaken everyone else’s. Fearing that other civilizations would reverse-engineer cutting edge Vortian technology, they ordered all manufacturers of defensive resource exports to cheapen their goods.

Hax did not report this finding at first. She found herself stalling, though for what reason she couldn’t place. She read and re-read through reports and profiles; she monitored the multiple factories and corporate facilities she’d bugged from floor to roof; she even bothered to clean the base, Irk’s sake. She hadn’t been outside in days and her neighbors had one by one stopped knocking to ask her to “brunch” or whatever. When she went a full day without a single Vortian attempting to pry into her base, she realized it was time to stop stalling.

Try as she might to focus, though, all she could think about was the little old lady down the street who had brought her a tray of fresh-baked pastries as a “housewarming gift”, and how, come invasion time, that little old lady wouldn’t stand a chance.
About the family of three that lived just next to her, with their Vort-smeet just solar cycle old.
About the quiet and lonely male who lived across the road, whose eyes were always sad but whose laugh was like the chimes he strung from a tree in his yard.
And Hax…couldn’t keep thinking about them, she realized with a chill. She didn’t have control over their future. All she had was a job to do. She’d wanted this.

And none of it was personal, she thought as her claws began to click over the keys of her Computer.

Chapter Text

As Ettoh’s claws flew over the keys of Hax’s computer, she began to realize that trying every combination could quite literally take forever…especially since she didn’t even know how long the correct keycode was in the first place.

But she was nothing if not stubborn, and it was a matter of minutes before she’d noticed that a specific few of the keys had lightly scratched surfaces, presumably from Hax’s claws wearing them down. If these were the keys Hax used most often, they were likely the ones which made up the keycode.
That narrowed it down, but not enough. Knowing Hax’s paranoia, the keycode could be a mile long. There had to be some better way, Ettoh thought, she just had to-

There was a firm knock at the door.

Ettoh stifled a gasp and looked between the door, the unresponsive Computer, and the hole she’d made in the wall, claws hovering over the keyboard. She could hear muttering voices outside, and there was a second knock.

“Refuge Authority, if anyone is in there you need to open up,” commanded a firm female voice. Ettoh stared in wide-eyed silence in its direction. The door jostled violently, but refused to budge. “Shit, can’t open it. Go get that landlord, tell him to bring the master key."

Ettoh’s breaths came quicker as she was hit with the gravity of her situation. She was in a room full of Irken tech, there was a secret entrance she’d carved in the wall between her apartment and Hax’s, and the Refuge Authority would discover her any minute. She had to cover up the evidence and hide but she had no time. If she was caught here she’d be questioned about her failure to report an Irken living among the Refuge’s residents…

There was about another ten minutes of silence wherein Ettoh crept as quietly as she could about the room, trying to collect things to pile in front of the hole in the wall. She was in the middle of attempting to deploy a compact storage-cube when the door gave a loud beep and slid open, revealing Veve the Arnob landlord and two armed Refuge Authority guards.

“Ettoh?” Veve asked, their large green eyes widening even more in surprise. Ettoh swallowed and gripped the storage-cube just a little tighter.

“Drop the…whatever that is, arms in the air,” barked the bulkier of the two guards, whose voice Ettoh heard before. Ettoh dropped the cube with a harsh clatter and lifted her claws where they were visible, feeling her pulse in her throat. She was so in for it now…how was she supposed to get out of this?

“We’re going to have to ask you to come with us,” said the other guard. “You are currently trespassing, and now we have reason to suspect you of collaborating with possible enemies of the Refuge. You will have to submit to questioning.”

“Wh-no! No, you don’t understand, this isn’t-“

“You will be able to give your testimony once you’ve arrived for questioning,” the guard interrupted her, looking irritated. “Come along. Go quietly and save us all some trouble, okay?”

Ettoh’s jaw clicked shut and she gave a dumb nod. She picked her way to the guards and did her level best to avoid Veve’s shocked and disappointed gaze boring into her.

“I never woulda suspected this, not from you, of all people,” the landlord jabbered at her, their voice pitched to a frantic octave. “One a’ my best tenants, and you’re conspiring with a- a…!”

The bulkier guard cuffed Ettoh’s arms behind her back and shot Veve a glare. “Go back to your office, civilian. We’ll take it from here.” Veve gulped and gave an awkward salute before skittering off, muttering to themself about enemies.

The adrenaline clouded Ettoh’s senses. She barely registered being herded out of the apartment building and to the Courthouses. At some point she’d been led to a blank room and sat in a metal chair, in front of a small table, and people kept coming in at different intervals and saying things to her but she couldn’t understand them. She could see irritation on some of their faces but it was impossible to breathe and her brain fuzzed with static. If she’d managed to tell them to go away, leave her alone, they ignored her. She hadn’t stopped shaking since she arrived.

Eventually, though, there was enough of a gap between interrogations that she could find the presence of mind to take in her surroundings. Four blank walls, no windows…The uncomfortable three-legged chair and its matching table, both made of sterile chrome. One solid metal door that had a biosignature lock...One round, glaring light in the dead center of the room, glaring with fluorescent light.

She managed to regain control of her breathing and her mind slowly cleared, even if her pulse still raced. Ettoh needed to find a way out of this. She remembered hearing the guard say that she was under suspicion for “conspiring with the enemy” or something like that. That meant it was likely Hax had been discovered already…Ettoh had gotten herself in trouble with the law, and for what? Hax was careless and now she was taking Ettoh down with her. And Ettoh just felt bad for being surprised.

Not that it mattered much now. Her foremost priority was getting herself out of this.

(She tried not to think about how Hax had said that if she were discovered, she would accept the consequences. Even if Ettoh was angry at her…it made her a little sick.)

The door swished open and a tall, dark gray-skinned Vortian woman holding a tablet and a pair of spectacles in her claws strolled into the room. She took a seat across from Ettoh and set the spectacles over her oval-shaped pink eyes, reading over something on the tablet.

“So…Ettoh, is it?” she asked, shooting Ettoh a warm smile. “My name is Doctor Ibis. I was called in because of reports you were experiencing nervous shock. Your medical records say that you’ve suffered from severe anxiety for a while, is that right?”

“I never consented to having my medical records released to you,” Ettoh spat.

Ibis gave a serene nod. “True, but I work for the Refuge Authority, so I have as much access to civilian records as any other employee here.” She tapped a manicured claw on the tablet a few times before sitting back and turning her attention more fully onto Ettoh. “You seem much more responsive now. That’s good.”

Ettoh huffed and crossed her arms defensively. “What do you want from me?”

“Primarily, I was asked to evaluate your mental state. Make sure you are acting of your own will, and all that.”

Ettoh frowned. “What, I have anxiety so I’m not in my right mind?”

Ibis blinked slowly and set the tablet aside. “Miss Ettoh…do you fully understand why you are here?” When Ettoh did not respond, the woman continued. “You’re here under suspicion of aiding an Irken invasion attempt. This is a very serious charge, with proportional consequences if you’re found guilty of it. So I am here to either verify or deconfirm the presence of mind-controlling technology, blackmail, or any other means of manipulation an Irken agent may have at its disposal to force your cooperation. My findings will play a role in whether or not you are found guilty, but I cannot emphasize enough that I am a strictly neutral party and will report my notes honestly and thoroughly, no matter how they may reflect on your situation.”

Ettoh took a shaky breath. So Hax had been found out. (Maybe she’d been deactivated already.)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said at last. “I don’t know any Irkens.”

Ibis narrowed her eyes slightly. “Less than a week ago, an Irken Empire-employed bounty hunter was found dead in the residence district. He suffered multiple fatal injuries indicative of an attack, some of which were stab wounds which match the typical profile of PAK weaponry." Ibis picked up her tablet and turned it to face Ettoh, and on it was displayed a photograph of the stranger who had attacked her that night in the alley, when Hax saved her. Ibis must have caught a look of familiarity on her face, because she lowered the tablet and continued, "So you do recognize him? City surveillance showed a Vortian of about your stature and profile being attacked by this man first, and then by an Irken agent. The Vortian was dragged away, presumably to the Irken's base of operations...and, later, when the Irken's presence is discovered and the Refuge placed under lockdown, you and an unidentified stranger with no Proof of Person seem to have no awareness of it. The stranger is taken away and discovered to be an Irken in disguise, and during that time you are discovered by Authority Guards using Irken technology. Investigations find a hand-carved passage between your apartment and the Irken’s base of operations. I suggest you don’t try to lie to me, Ettoh. I am trained to tell when someone is doing that, and frankly, you aren’t very good at it.”

The doctor levelled her sharp gaze across the table, searching Ettoh’s face a moment, before she continued. “So far you’ve expressed none of the typical symptoms of mind-control, so I think that can be ruled out. There are, of course, other methods Irkens use to control people. You should know, Ettoh, that if the Irken used blackmail or threats to coerce you into doing its bidding, all you have to do is say so. We will interrogate its PAK for evidence and if we find some you will be cleared of the more severe charges.”

Ettoh was silent a moment. Then:

“Fine. She-it…didn’t coerce me. I was investigating it myself.”

She felt nauseous but she kept her expression neutral. It was too late for Hax, she thought to herself. And once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been a lie. She had started out investigating Hax with the intent of turning her in. And maybe she was throwing the Irken to the beasts, but…she couldn’t sacrifice herself for Hax’s mistakes.

So even if shame began to eat at her from the inside out, she told Ibis about how she’d discovered Hax’s true identity that night in the alleyway and leveraged that knowledge to gather more evidence against the Irken. She omitted the parts where Hax accompanied her at the bar, showed her the starship, admitted things Ettoh was told no Irken could admit. The Refuge Authority would never believe any of it anyways.

As Ettoh spoke, Ibis nodded and typed quick notes onto her tablet.

“…And when the Authorities discovered me, I was trying to break into her Computer,” Ettoh finished. "But I didn’t get to. Only H-…the Irken knows the passcode.”

“And why were you trying to break into the Computer? Could you not have blackmailed the Irken into showing it to you before, like you did with its other technology?”

Ettoh blanched a moment as she realized...The microchip Hax had given to her was still in the base. The Authorities would probably find it. She had no idea what was on it…but…

“There was a computer chip I had,” she said carefully. “I put spyware on it. I was going to boot up the Computer, the program would copy all of its files, and I could bring it to the Authorities when I turned her in.” A lie through her teeth, but maybe the computer chip would be returned to her if Ibis bought it.

Ibis raised a brow, but she didn’t call Ettoh out on it. She didn’t look convinced, but she tapped out a few more notes anyway. Then, she gave Ettoh another quick smile and rose, removing her eyewear.

“Well, thank you, Ettoh. Your assistance has been most helpful, and I am optimistic that you may be able to come out of this with meager charges.” She bade Ettoh a good day and turned to go.

“Wait-! Where is she now?” The words were off Ettoh’s tongue before she could stop them. Ibis turned her head with a pensive expression.

“Likely, the Irken is awaiting review of its PAK,” she said. “Good luck, Ettoh, I’ll be rooting for you.” And the doctor swept out of the room.

Ettoh slouched forward, head in her claws. What a mess…Hax was going to die. Tears pricked at her eyes but she didn’t care to wipe them away.

She didn’t notice the ceiling light flicker out until she raised her head again. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the disorienting darkness. Did the bulb break…?
A voice on the intercom blared out and nearly scared her out of her chair.

“-ATTENTION ALL GUARD UNITS, CODE RED-BLACK, INTERROGATION ROOM FOUR. REPEAT, INTERROGATION ROOM FOUR. PLEASE SECURE THE AREA AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.-”

And Ettoh could hear a familiar metallic skittering coming from the ceiling above her head.

Chapter Text

Before she’d been arrested, Hax had thought that it would be easier just to let the Refuge deactivate her if she was ever caught. She couldn’t have foreseen how wrong she was.
Because now, locked in a containment unit of impenetrable reinforced glass on all sides, being grilled for information she didn’t have, her pulse rapid-firing with the impulse to survive, her only thoughts were of escape.
The bespectacled Vortian woman interrogating her grew impatient. “Enough of this. Tell us what we need to know and perhaps we’ll let you leave Terra Two peacefully.” Hax knew that was a bold-faced lie.
Hax huffed and struck the wall separating them with a PAK leg. The woman didn’t flinch.
“Ettoh is detained here, you know,” the woman continued. Hax paused a moment, just enough to see a small smile flash over the Vortian’s features. She knew she’d caught Hax’s attention.

“The Ettoh-Vortian has nothing to do with me,” Hax hissed.

“Oh, I’m sure,” the woman replied. “That’s why she was last seen entering your base and using your technology.”

Hax blinked in confusion. “What- Why would she be in my base?”

“We were hoping you would answer that,” the woman sighed. “There is no use playing dumb, Irken. Are you aware that she was attempting to use your technology? Which implies she knows of your true nature.”

Hax fumed a moment. This woman was so smug… “Actually, I already knew that,” she snapped.

The woman just smirked. “Of course. So tell me, then, if that is true…what was the point of tolerating her presence? Why keep her around?”

Hax thought over her options a moment. If Hax wasn’t getting out of this, at least Ettoh should be able to go back to her life. She was never supposed to be wrapped up in all this anyways.

“She was useful for my cover,” she settled for. They wanted a bad guy? Then they’d get one.

The woman said nothing but raised a brow for her to continue, so she did.

“I fooled her at first with a disguise. I befriended her. She taught me the ways of the Refuge citizens so I could blend in. Having a connection here helped the locals to trust me. She was already lonely and easy to manipulate. It was not hard to use her.” Hax ignored the sour taste in her mouth.

“Clearly she didn’t teach you our ways well enough, if you walked around lacking proof of citizenship,” the woman snarked. She typed something on the tablet in her claws, before giving a nod and turning to go.

“Where is Ettoh now?” Hax demanded. The woman stopped and looked over her shoulder with an impassive expression.

“Being interrogated, I assume. I’ll be speaking with her again soon, rest assured,” she answered with a smile, before exiting from the room. The door locked shut behind her with a click, leaving Hax alone in a transparent cage inside a blank room with her thoughts.

This place was surprisingly equipped to contain Irkens. As soon as she’d been placed in this cage her holographic nanobot disguise has crumbled like sand. She’d tried every last one of her PAK tools against the walls without so much as a scratch. She couldn’t seem to find a single weakness in its structure. She wondered if it was designed specifically to stand up to Irken technology. She wouldn’t put it past this place.

She paced like a contained animal in a zoo enclosure along the walls of her cell, scanning with her eyes and her PAK and the tips of her claws for even the smallest chink in the armor and finding none. This went on for a matter of a few hours before the door opened again, revealing two aliens of origin she didn’t recognize.

One was a short, stocky tri-ped with beady purple eyes settled at the forefront of their blocky face. One of their four arm appendages, which seemed to be missing its hand, cradled a tablet similar to that of the Vortian from earlier; their companion was a very large, brutish looking guard, standing almost to the top of the doorway and so wide across they had to enter sideways. Hax stared them down, calculating what was coming next.

“Irken, it is time for your routine PAK scan. Your PAK will be scanned for valuable information to the Refuge, and your fate will be decided from there,” the smaller one announced. As if her fate hadn’t been sealed the minute she was discovered.

They typed something onto their tablet and the walls of the cell collapsed. Hax deployed her PAK legs, making a bolt for the door. She crumpled with a screech when the guard shot her in the side of her neck with a stunbeam.

She lay twitching spastically on the floor, desperately trying to regain control of her limbs. The guard picked her up by the collar of her tunic and without a word they secured energy cuffs over her arms and legs, and a metal muzzle for her face. She tried to hurl all manner of profanities at them, but all that came out of her mouth was an embarrassing gargling sound. She was carried from the room to the nearest elevator, where they rode up to the next-highest floor. The voice over the intercom chimed: “Floor 45: Extreme Detainment and Criminal Proceedings. Please enjoy your visit.”

Hax was dragged through a series of hallways and despite her best efforts she couldn’t keep track of the winding turns they made. She felt the effects of the stunbeam beginning to wane, but there was not much she could do anyways, restrained as she was. The smaller alien punched some sort of complicated code into a keypad by a heavily armored door labelled “45D8”, and with a brief retinal scan the door slid open. The guard dragged Hax in and placed her in a stiff red chair in the center of the room and secured her with tough fabric straps across her limbs and neck to its frame. There must have been a hole for her PAK to fit through, because her spine sat flush with the back.

When she recovered from the jostling, Hax took in her surroundings. There were computer monitors lining the walls all around her, with cables draping over every open surface like invasive vines. She couldn’t see behind her, having been strapped down. The tri-ped alien strolled past her, moving to her blind spot. She attempted to swipe at them with a PAK leg, and realized in alarm that her PAK tools weren’t responding. That was…not good.

She could hear them rummaging around behind her before she felt them run an analyzing hand over the surface of her PAK. She snarled at them, unable to form the words she wanted to use behind her gag. She yelped as she felt one of her PAK’s ports forced open and a cable plugged into it. Whatever the cable was connected to wasn’t scanning yet, but the technician behind her was making quick work of plugging more cables into her PAK. She counted a total of six before the technician finally stopped and returned back into her line of sight. She levelled her best murderous look at them, but they simply didn’t acknowledge her.

They typed something else into their tablet and she felt the machines she was hooked up to whir to life. Another typed command, and she could detect a preliminary scan of her PAK software.

Hax had needed to be very tech-savvy during her time as a Scout. She also needed to know how to handle herself during interrogations, in case she was ever caught by the enemy and probed for information. The Refuge was equipped to handle Irkens, certainly…but Hax wondered how ready they were her.
So she ran a scan of her own.

She discovered one loophole she could use. Whoever had set up the computers in this room had made a mistake configuring one of them. It wasn’t filtering for incoming scans to anything directly connected to it. Which meant-

As the computers scanned her stored memories, she honed in on the vulnerable computer’s communications specifically. It was making copies of the day of her encoding.

All Scouts come with a special piece of software from their encoding. It was called the “Logic Bomb”, and it was designed for situations like the one Hax found herself in. It was risky to use, but very valuable in a pinch. Hax found herself, then, with no choice but to see it in action for herself.

She sent over the code for the Logic Bomb to the vulnerable computer, which of course, accepted it willingly.

Nothing happened.

Hax let out a shaky breath and turned her glare to the ceiling. Of course. Nothing could go her way, right?

It was another couple hours of sitting in this room, dark except for scripts and statistics scrolling at unreadable speed over the various monitors surrounding her, before the technician finally moved to unplug the cables from her PAK. Hax tried her PAK weapons again, to no avail. She could still feel prickling in the tips of her claws from the stunbeam.

The technician walked from behind her again, holding a small microchip in one of their hands. They swept from the door, their guard following behind, leaving Hax in the room by herself.

She checked in with her PAK. Not all systems were offline—thank goodness, or she’d be dying—but her tools, her communications, and her geographic trackers were all unresponsive. It resembled the effects of system overload, but only on a few PAK functionalities, and they weren’t recovering for some reason. Her best guess was that the stunbeam the guard had hit her with had something to do with it. If that were true, it likely wasn’t permanent, but who knew how long it could last…

Clearly they were confident if they left her here by herself.

She needed to find a way out of her restrains, first of all. They felt like some sort of ultra-tough synthetic leather. She couldn’t chew through them because her neck was restrained. If only she had her PAK legs…

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was the reason why, at first, she didn’t notice the monitors around her blink off, or her PAK systems come back online, or the commotion outside when the entire fiftieth-to-fourty-fifth floor block lost all power, all systems overloaded by some mysterious malware no one had seen before.

When she did open her eyes, she immediately recognized the effects of the Logic Bomb hitting its mark.