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Chapter Text

“Church Boy, come on!” 

The voice of Rax was barely audible over the low scream of the Echo’s conventional thrusters. In the darkness and chaos of the battle for Bryce Canyon, the light coming from the open ramp to the ship’s cargo bay was an inviting sight compared to the cold darkness. 

Two Daxy carried a writhing young man to safety. “Get off me! Get off!” he screamed. “My mate is hurt. I need to see her. I need to go!”

Matthias Carter eyed the ramp, no more than a hundred yards away. He kept his back pressed to a sandstone boulder for cover. He shivered, his suit coat, white shirt, and body armor not adequate protection against the cold. Many of the hunter shuttles had already left after Colonel Braxys was injured, leaving the Administrator’s forces in their leave. 

Right as Matthias put a finger to his ear to order his team onto the ship, more approaching Daxy voices echoed up from the bottom of the hill. 

“The Colonel’s mate is getting away.”

“Don’t let them escape!”

“Stop that ship! Open fire!” 
 
Coilgun-propelled bullets pinged off of the Echo’s warming thrusters. A few penetrated the gray hull with the horrible noise of rending metal.

A dozen or so Daxy regulars, mostly in unmechanized fleet armor, ran up the hill. The main road winded up to the radio tower and the Echo directly adjacent to it at the top. The assaulting force was about seventy five feet below the line he had chosen to defend.

“Damn it!” Matthias swore to himself. He shouted up at the Echo next. “Don’t worry about us! We’ll cover you. Get out of here!” He put a finger to his ear. “Everyone, defend that ship! I repeat, defend the Echo at any cost!” 

“Understood,” a male voice came through his ear piece. 

The second-in-command of the Archangels was next to reply. “Sisters, see that the will of the Lord is done!”

Small-arms fire chipped at the sandstone boulder covering Matt. With the familiar roar of a plasma accelerator, a burst of burning plasma hit the rock. Molten stone dripped into the snow, vaporizing the water as his cover was melted behind him. 

Matthias jumped to his feet. He ran along the defensive ridge him and his team were digging into on the side of the hill.

Matthias fired off a suppressing shot of his rail-rifle as he ran across the crumbling sandstone, the supersonic projectile flying over the Daxy troops. He dug his heels into the snow and slid behind the next pile of boulders for cover.

“Shit!” one of the Daxy shook with panic as the troops began to scatter to either side of the path. 

“We have males up on the ridge. Check your fire!” The firmer voice of a commanding officer was quick to take control. She pointed up the hill with a single claw. “I repeat, males on the ridge!” 

“Sure that wasn’t a human female? They have a fucking rail-rifle!”

“By Axillis, if you kill a human male, I will shoot you next! Focus your fire on the- shit, they’re going to get away!”

The ramp to the Echo raised into the ship, sealing away the light shining from the cargo bay. It left them in the dimmer light of the full moon and the occasional flash of anti-air weaponry attacking the Administrator’s fleet.

“Everyone, this is it! Cover the Echo’s escape!” Matthias ordered his team as a wave of heat from the Echo’s burning thrusters washed over him. “As soon it’s gone, pull back to the cloaked buggies!”

Matthias, his male allies, and the Archangels stood from their cover along the ridge to fire down at the Daxy like fish in a barrel. A symphony of cracks, pops, and booms disturbed the night air.

The Fleet regulars scattered to cover, but their lower elevation was a severe disadvantage. A few were hit, with one of the bigger, slower ones falling face-first into the snow.

The Echo lifted from the top of the hill with another burst of its glowing thrusters. The metal feet of the landing gear folded back into the main body of the sleek vessel with the whir of intricate hydraulics.

“No you don’t!” A few feet from Matt’s side, the shorter and younger James fired a conventional rifle at the shoulder of a Daxy as they aimed a plasma accelerator at the Echo. 

“Ah!” the Daxy dropped the glowing sidearm into the snow.  

“They’re almost out of here!” Paul was further down from James. He pulled a homemade pipe-bomb from his nice leather belt, his red tie whipping around in the hot air of the Echo’s thrusters. “Just a little longer.” He threw the improvised explosive down the hill, into the center of the main road. “Bomb is hot!”

The explosive sent the Daxy forces into a frenzy, jumping as far from the bomb as possible.

“Shit, IED!”

“Get down!”

A terrible hail of dark soil, white snow, and glinting shrapnel flew into thirty feet into the air as the bomb blew a shallow crater into the ground. 

With one last crack of the Echo’s thrusters, the ship lit up the walls of the sandstone canyon like the daytime sun. It blasted off into the night sky, and in a matter of seconds, the Echo was beyond the reach of enemy fire. 

“Damn it! Tell the Administrator that the Colonel’s mate is in the air! We’ve got human males and Daxy fighting together with serious firepower. These aren’t the Daughters, this is Zion! We need fucking reinforcements now!”

Matt threw down his heavy rail-rifle. The max-power suppressing shot had spot-welded the accelerator rails, making it useless. “Alright, that’s our queue. Everyone move along the ridge to the buggies. I’ll take the rear!” From a holster across his chest, he pulled an MP5 submachine gun, equipped with a drum magazine. He raised the stock into the nook of his shoulder and let off bursts of bullets in the direction of the Fleet squad.

Thomas’ gruff voice came through his crackling earpiece. “We’re like sitting ducks out here. Sooner we leave, the better!” 

Matt, his men, and the Archangels began the shuffle along the ridge, rounding the hill to its opposite side. Their cloaked buggies were parked in a sheer rock crevasse on the other side, just out of view of the shuttles and troops. They laid down a barrage of fire to keep pushing the encroaching Daxy back.

“They’re calling in reinforce-” Matt was silenced as a massive form tackled him to the ground from above. Him and the confusing blur of solid black clung tight to each other as they rolled down the hill and away from his men.

“Hunters! They flanked us!” Paul’s voice played into his ear. The gunfire from the ridge above became more erratic and panicked. 

Matt heard James’ voice next. “Matt is down! I lost him!”

“We will cover you and retrieve Elder Carter!” One of the Archangels said. “Keep moving to the buggies!”

Matt barely registered the cacophony of voices from his ear piece as him and his grappling foe finally came to a stop at the base of the hill. He pressed his arm to the neck of the much larger, VANTA-suit clad Hunter below him. “Negative, Commander, I’m on the opposite side of the hill! Fleet has reinforcements en-route, get-” 

The hunter drew her haunches back and kicked Matt square in the chest, sending him flying through the air. 

He landed a few meters back in a bank of puffy snow, barely feeling the packed desert sand beneath. Despite the soft landing, his body ached with the force of the kick.

“We can deal with them, Elder! Let us come and get you!”

With a wince, he pushed himself back onto his boots. When he rose to his full height, his nine-foot assailant quickly got to her feet. “Leave me and protect my men! That’s an order!” He pulled the rubberized ear piece from his ear canal and threw it into the snow to focus on his assailant.
 
“Finally,” The single Daxy’s voice was deep and muffled through her mask. The Hunter towered over him, her pure-black VANTA-suit making her look like a two-dimensional blur in space. Only the clumps of white snow clinging to the suit gave her form any depth. “I am Huntress Asyx, warrior of the Third Chieftess.” She pulled her mask off of her face, revealing a sharp snout, green scales, and dark-green eyes. She started to walk in a circular path.

Matt mimicked her motion to keep his distance. He buttoned his blue, water-splotched suit coat over his wrinkled dress shirt. “Charmed.” 

Asyx’s narrowed eyes glinted with hunger and fierce cunning. “What’s your name, human?” There was almost a tenderness to her query.

Matt reached into the pocket of his suit coat, retrieving a cigarette and a lighter. He put the cigarette between his lips. “I’m-” He stopped and smiled. “I’m-”  

Asyx stopped too, crooking her snout in curiosity.

Matt looked up at the sky to see the bright points of over a dozen more shuttles closing in on the rocky canyon. The suppressing fire of his team grew more distant as they escaped the pursuing Daxy. 

“What? Answer me, human!”

Matt stood straight, his posture dignified. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it into the snow at his feet. He slid his old Zippo lighter back into his pocket. “I am Elder Matthias Carter, a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Asyx growled in response. “Zion.” She took one hulking step toward him, shaking the ground beneath them. “I tire of the Oath, and you…” her voice shook with desire. “…you will do just fine, Matthias Carter.”

“What, going to stick me with pheromones?” 

“Oh, no.” Her laughter is deep. “Injections are a desperate act. A true huntress takes a male, and owns him in the way nature intended. I will break you until you are my obedient, perfect human.” Her slit-eyes flash with determination. “You will be mine, my mate.”

Matt leaned down, pulling a bowie knife from a sheath strapped to his calf. He flipped the glinting blade over his hand, taking a defensive posture. “Then come and get me.” 

“I love a fighter. It will make you screaming my name that much sweeter!” She charged him with her claws extended. 

Matt broke into a sprint toward her. As she leapt at him to close the distance, Matt dropped to the floor and skid through the sand and snow, his feet forward. He raised his knife into the air. 

Their respective momentum stuck the Daxy’s ankle with the bowie knife right as he slid under her.

“Fuck!” Asyx tumbled through the snow in a combat roll. Despite her injury, she rolled to her feet with relative grace.

Matt stood, wiping the snow from his dirty pants. He watched with awe as Asyx calmly removed the knife from her ankle. Only the last half-inch was soaked with blood. 

“VANTA-suits are very strong. I’m impressed you pierced it at all, my mate.” The Huntress discarded the knife over her shoulder with a scoff. “Best not to play with toys. Someone might get hurt.” She took another step forward, a trickle of blood outlining her left boot-print in the snow. “You look so cute when you’re shocked… still, I can think of better uses for that pretty little mouth.” 

Matt took a single step back. “What, going to rape me right here? Out in the battlefield?” He laughed, nearly manic as he postured defiantly with one foot forward. The threat would be comical if it wasn’t so real. “What a sick joke!”

The air was unsettled by the rumble of landing shuttles. The fleet’s reinforcements lowered to the ground a few hundred feet away. The vertical take-off thrusters of the boxy-shuttles melted the snow in a haze of intense heat. 

Asyx blinked, her tail whipping around and collecting snowflakes drifting through the air. Her voice was serious, and not the slightest bit coy or taunting. “If you submit to me now, I can take you back to the flagship with me. I want you to be comfortable, my mate.” 

"No, don't say that! This is how the Empire always works. You put us through hell, and then walk in like you’re there to save us.” Matt was indignant, pointing at her in accusation. “We never asked for this!”

“Our love for you is unconditional. It is there whether you ask for it or not.” Asyx’s huge five-foot tail swung in tighter, more disciplined arcs. “Human males are so used to affection being conditional on their ability to provide for their useless females.” 

Matt held his bruised chest with one hand. Some of the buttons from his white shirt had come undone, leaving his black body-armor exposed. “My mom and my sisters weren’t ‘useless’!” He gnashed his teeth.

Matt couldn’t hear his team and the Archangels anymore. They better be hauling it out of here.

“I’m sorry, Matthias.” Asyx extended her arms wide with a toothy smile, opening her magnanimous embrace. “I change my mind, I do not want to fight you. Let us end this.”

Two-dozen fleet troops poured out of the open shuttles. A few of them, catching sight of Matt’s confrontation, began to approach them with their coilgun pistols drawn.

“Come to me, my mate.” Asyx’s voice was still inviting, but tinged with warning. The deep-green slits of her eyes narrowed. “You know how this ends.”

Don’t fight. A still, small voice shook Matthias from deep within. Don’t fight her, my son.

Matt grit his teeth. “Ah!” He gripped at his hair in frustration, and then let his hands fall to his sides in resignation. “Fine.” He stepped forward and fell to his knees in submission. “I yield, Asyx.”

“Yes.” The Huntress hissed in satisfaction as she closed the distance between them. “That is right, my beautiful male. You know your place.” Her towering form eclipsed the moon overhead, her all-encompassing shadow falling over Matt. Asyx bent over to gently pick up the much smaller human in her claws.

Matt’s breath hitched and he clenched his teeth at the tight grip around his waist.

“I’m sorry baby, let me make things a little more comfortable.” Asyx put an arm under his butt, shifting her grip to hold the human vertically. She leaned him against her shoulder, carrying him like a parent would carry a child. 

“Damn, lucky bitch,” one of the approaching Fleet soldiers said. 

“He’s cute. Mind giving me a round with him?” another jeered.

Asyx growled at the surrounding troops. “Back off.”

Matt shut his eyes and pressed his bearded-face into the soft folds of Asyx’s scaled neck to avoid looking at the surrounding Daxy soldiers.

“Aw-” the smile in Asyx’s voice was audible. She whispered in the human’s ear. “Let’s get you home.” She turned and started toward one of the shuttles. 

Matt looked over her shoulder at the hill and radio tower at the base of the canyon. 

“Huntress Asyx!” A Daxy squad ran down from the crest of the hill. The armor of the commanding officer at their head was torn with shrapnel, and her snout was smeared with dirt and blood. The state of her comrades wasn’t better.

The Huntress ran her free claw up and down Matt’s back as she turned to face the troops. “Yes, sergeant?” 

“Zion’s team just vanished; the humans, the Daxy, everyone!” Frustration peaks in her voice. “One minute, we were under fire, the next, they were gone! We got nothing!”

A slight smile replaced Matt’s sullen expression. The pit of anxiety in his chest melted away.

Asyx chuckled, her voice measured. “No, not nothing.” She patted Matthias’s back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my mate must be freezing. I’m going to take care of him. Sergeant, in an hour, put a call into the Administrator’s cruiser; tell her we captured an operative from Zion.” She ran her tongue through Matt’s wavy brown hair, slicking it back with care. “-a cute one.”

“Yes, huntress.” The sergeant sighed, but bowed to a ninety degree angle despite her clear disappointment. “-and congratulations on capturing a mate.” 

“Thank you, sergeant.” Asyx continued toward the shuttle. 

A few dissatisfied groans follow from the other Daxy in the squad. 

“Come on, I called him when he shot at us!” said one.

“That ain’t how it works, newt. Brass bitches always get the good dick.”

Asyx ignored them, stepping into an open shuttle. “I’ve got a male for immediate extraction to the Earth Fleet flagship. He is my martial claim.” 

“Congrats, huntress.” The gruff, red-scaled pilot responded with some amusement. “Better hold him tight. It’ll be a bumpy ride in this damn blizzard.” Her claws flew across her glowing terminal, and the doors to the shuttle slid closed. The pneumatic locking mechanism hissed, and heated air blew into the compartment as it re-pressurized. 

Inhaling the Daxy's pheromones made his head light. Was he this tired before?

"Max..." he mumbled. He whimpered and nuzzled closer to his captor. "I'm sorry."

“Sh, you’re safe,” Asyx whispered to the human wrapped up in her arms. She planted kisses on the top of his head as she sang him a gentle Daxy tune. “Sleep, sleep sweet male, your love is watching o’er. Axillis smiles for you…”

With his face in the nape of her neck, Matt inhaled Asyx’s sweet pheromones. His eyes finally fluttered shut as the shuttle lifted into the air.

“…Axillis will protect, Axillis will guide. You, sweet male, are under her watchful eye…”

--3 DAYS LATER--

“That can’t be right.” You stand up from one of a hundred plastic chairs, and slide your hands in the pockets of your jumpsuit. You step away from the front row of empty chairs, a reminder of just how many researchers and engineers worked here long ago.

The nearly-empty conference room is filled with the dull drone of the advanced air filtering and conditioning system. The sounds of advanced atmospheric equipment and the bright light of LED’s isn’t new to you.

“It’s right, trust me.” A slightly taller man circles a large number in insistent, red marker on the dry erase board behind him. “Why, do you have an idea?” His free hand taps on the board, his finely cleaned and trimmed nails clacking against the smooth board. The tips of two of his fingers are white with some light chemical burn. “Son?"

“It’s just-” You sigh, pinching at the bridge of your nose. You eye the slim band of platinum around your father’s neck, the Administrator’s collar still locked to him. “That’s so much hydrogen. Where are we going to get all that?”

“The last time this place was used was during the evacuation to Bountiful. They must’ve held the bridge open for as long as they could to get as many people to Zion as possible.” Your father’s voice is low and calm. His eyes are wide and unfocused as he thinks. “Good news for them, bad news for us.”

“That would be consistent with the damage to the Helium Reflux-Condensers. Someone ran the compressors way too hot for way too long.” Your head throbbed with mental fatigue. You squint out as much of the bright light of the conference room, just to avoid pushing your headache into migraine territory. “We’re lucky we can fix that, but all the jerry-rigged electrolysis in the world won’t make up for a thousand missing pounds of hydrogen.”

A paternal smile wrinkles your father’s tired face. “God will reveal a path for us.” His voice is firm, elevating the reaction above mere platitude. “He will.” 

“His track record so far is pretty good.” You fold your arms, your tone lightening with facetiousness. “-But he might expect us to make a path ourselves.”

“He usually does.” Your father walks to your side. He turns to look at the math-covered board and examines it critically in silence. “Well, like you said, we probably can’t get enough hydrogen to operate the bridge within these specified parameters.” He angles his head toward you. “We still have thirteen hundred pounds of hydrogen according to the facility computer. How do we stretch that out?”

“We’ll need three hundred pounds of that for the fusion reactors, just to be safe.” You inhale deeply. “We could cut the duration of sustained, navigable interface time from ninety seconds to just forty five.” You walk up to the whiteboard slowly, as if approaching a fearsome foe. The three, twenty-foot wide boards slide along tracks in the walls like in an old university. Each square inch is covered in messy, black equations and formulas. “We keep the bridge open for half as long, we only need half the hydrogen.”

“With a bridge this old and this big, we need that extra time to dissipate the interface’s resonance.”

“Crap.” You look over your shoulder at your father. “Magnetic containment not up to snuff?”

“The Daxy have countless years on us in that department, Miles. The Needle’s Eye was the first of humanity’s forays into bridge technology.” He scoffs. “We barely had oscillating magnetic fields advanced enough to make self-sustaining fusion power.”

“Couldn’t have been too hard with the Daxy to cheat from.” You nod, your resignation apparent in your flippant tone. “In any case, we certainly don’t want to step through the interface and into Zion just to drop dead from gamma radiation exposure.” You shut your eyes as your head throbs. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the memory of the glorious city that you saw in your vision. You remember the black towers of the first-generation fusion plant at the base of those magnificent, snow-capped mountains. The warm, sterile air blowing down from a vent above feels like the breeze of the open field.

“There might be something to this.” Your father continues. “The Echo’s fusion reactor is the best model in the fleet. We might be able to re-purpose some of its mag-flux compressors to work with the bridge. That’d let us push the envelope a bit further…” he trails off. His voice turns apprehensive. “…or I’m sure we could find a solution that doesn’t involve using your ship.”

You hear your father, but you don’t fully register his words. You pinch at the bridge of your nose in an attempt to distract you from your headache.

“Wait, wait, we have to gut the Echo?” A familiar female Daxy mutters from the back of the room. “Seriously, Doc Nyx?”

Your eyes open and you face the back of the conference room with your father.

Rax lumbers from two open, glass doors. The seven foot reptilian woman points her triangular maw at you, and her tail swings in wide arcs behind her. Her blue, iridescent scales shift to green when directly under the bright LED’s in the ceiling.

“Hopefully not, Rax.” You smile and stand a little straighter. 

Your Daxy mate walks past your father, and then directly in front of you. “We do what we gotta do, but that’d be damn shame.” She angles her blunt snout up to scan the endless numbers, figures, and formulas on the board. 

“We’re just brainstorming right now,” your father says.

If she hadn’t spent years working with you to develop the Echo, her reaction might be to tease. Instead, the edges of her maw perk up in pride, exposing the white of her teeth. “You two have been busy.” Her old, navy fatigues are covered in black spots from grease and welding burns. 

“No results though.” You deflate at your own admission. “We need a lot more hydrogen or some other way to open the bridge to Zion safely.”

Your father’s form is blocked by the massive, feminine hunk of scales and muscle between you. “Good to see you, Fesyx,” he says. “Also, I’m still Doctor Penn. Nyx and I aren’t married yet.”

“Ah, don’t give me that, you’re mates. Speaking of which, I think Nyx is missin’ you. She’s on the Echo, last I looked.” Rax’s smile doesn’t waver as she glances at your father over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after Mi.” When her orange, slit-eyes rest on you, they glow with tenderness. 

“It’s time for a break anyways. You need anything, son?”

You lean to the side and shake your head at him. 

“Then I’ll see you two for dinner.” He straightens the collar of his gold-patterned dress shirt and walks out through the open door in the conference room.

You and your partner watch the eyes of the other until your father is out of earshot.

Rax snickers. “If you two can’t figure it out, we really are fucked.” 

You don’t laugh. 

Her tone softens to match her comforting gaze. “Mi, you and your dad are the smartest skinnies I’ve ever met. Axillis as my witness, we didn’t come this far just to get stuck in some bunker. I promise you that.”

You quickly take Rax in a hug, your arms wrapping tight around her waist. Your face buries into her plush chest, with your head rising just above the height of her breasts.

“I’ve got you, Mi.” The former flight chief coos. Both of her arms fold protectively around you as she returns the embrace. “Just breathe deep, my mate. Everything is okay.” Her body nearly envelops you. A satisfied rumbling from deep in her core vibrates through you as she holds you by the small of your back. 

Your arms squeeze just a little tighter around her muscled waist.

“I’m so proud of you.” She sighs. “You know that?”

You nod lazily. You could probably fall sleep like this. 

You are separated by her blue navy fatigues and your gray jumpsuit, but you freely breathe of her pheromones. The empathogenic sweetness makes you feel light and dissipates the dull ache in your forehead. 

Even after Finn injected you with pheromone antagonists and effectively erased all previous Daxy chemical imprints, you still felt the need to be with Rax. 

With effort, you finally pull away. “Sorry, I’m just stressed out.”

Rax clicks her tongue in disappointment, but her much stronger limbs release you willingly. “Don’t apologize.” She smiles with only the slightest hint of condescension, and points to the calculations on the board. “Pretty soon, you’ll only do this shit when you want to, at least-” she laughs, a little nervous. “-when we aren’t building a family.”

“Soon,” you echo. You give her claws a gentle squeeze with your hand. You couldn’t think about fatherhood right now. 

“We’re so close to Zion, yet so far.” You walk toward the left side of the conference room, toward the thick leaded-concrete wall. 

Rax walks at your side, keeping her tail hooked behind your back. “When it comes to fire-fights, I’m your bitch, but when it comes to the science…” she trails off as she leans against the side of the conference room. “…relying on a male might not be so bad.”

You join her beside the wall, facing your saurian partner. A reinforced glass panel runs along the length of the thick concrete at your eye level. Three blast-proof, metallic shutters are open, cutting the bright light from the chamber on the other side of the window into diverging bands. 

“What I’m trying to say is-” Rax sighs, fumbling over herself. “I trust you with this, Mi. I really do.” One of the bands of light from the chamber falls over Rax’s snout, turning her orange eyes into deep, golden pools. 

You couldn’t tell whether the look in her eyes was one of desperation, love, or both. “Thank you, Rax.”

Through the window was the main ring of the Needle’s Eye, the largest dark-energy bridge you have seen in Zion’s possession. The marble floor beneath is etched with a massive square that encloses the circular shape of the bridge. The square chamber was at least a hundred meters across and about as wide.

Ruth, the human woman decked in animal furs, and Alice, your bright orange Daxy ally, stand atop the ring at one of the many cylindrical, plasma compressors far below. The bright, crackling spots of their welding torches work on repairing the five-foot device. 

“They’ve been working in there as long as you and your ‘xama’ have been working in here.” She squats on her digitigrade haunches to look through the window. She casts you a sidelong glance. “’Father’,” she translates.

“Ah.” Despite the progress you and your little rebel band have made, you frown. “How about Finn? Haven’t seen him all day.”  

“Probably raiding the med-bay with Peter.” She snorts. “Crazy fuckin’ skinnies.”

When you don’t even smile at her remark, her good humor sours to deep concern. “What’s wrong?”

The mention of Matt’s doctor makes your stomach drop. “It’s been three days and we still haven’t heard anything from Matthias or the Archangels.”

Rax’s tail twitches behind her. Her gentle concern stiffens to gentle rebuke. “They can handle themselves. Matt told us to leave them behind.” 

“Reesa already died for me. I can’t have more blood on my hands. I can’t-”

“Don’t say that, Miles. Church Boy did what he needed to.” You’re shushed by a claw over your lips. “His mission was to get you to Zion safely. If anything happened to them, it’s on the Administrator and Colonel Cunt, not you.” 

You look down, listening to the faint crackling of distant welding torches. “You’re right, it’s just-”

“I’m sure they’re just lying low right now, okay?” She takes your chin between her claws, angling your face upwards. “Look at me, Mi. Everything is alright.” Her voice quiets to nearly a whisper. “C’mere.” She leans down too kiss you on the lips.

You shut your eyes. Right as your lips make contact with the soft scales at the front of her snout, the speaker crackles overhead.

“Miles-” Your father’s voice plays overhead. “President Shepard is calling. He'll want to speak to both of us.”

You pull out of the kiss. With Rax’s claws still holding your chin, you glow in your intimate contact with a smile. “Finally.”

“It’s about damn time.” Rax ruffles her spiny headdress of frills, raising her brow. "Thought he might be leaving us out in the cold."

“Yeah.” You nod. “I have some questions.”

Chapter Text

No. Not again. 

The roar of engines. The shouts of ground soldiers above, desperate for escape. You were in your bunker. You didn’t have time.

A buzzer overhead announced the incoming attack. 

You were out of time.

You always ran out of time.

--

---------

--

You stir from your deep sleep at sound of a harsh buzzer. You groan, almost involuntarily. 

“Get up, prisoner.” A familiar, gravelly voice plays through the same speaker above.

The Daxy wouldn’t even let you sleep peacefully.

You prop yourself up on your shaky palms, the faint wrinkles and veins on the back of your hands the first thing to come into your blurry sight. You sit up on you bed, and rub your eyes clear.

You fold your thick comforter back into a neat triangle. It took a long time and a lot of sucking-up to get such a luxury.

“Yes?” You look up at the holodisplay. The Daxy were smart enough to use those instead of windows on high-security cells. It displays the time in the top right corner.

PRISONER X-407-MAR
01:42
Supervising Guard: Sergeant Xalara

“Rounds aren’t until six-hundred hours, Sergeant.” You raise an eyebrow at the familiar Daxy on the other side of the holodisplay. 

Xalara's scales were a bright-green, dulled somewhat by the overall darkness of the dimmed hall she was standing in. Most of her body was clad in her usual dirty-orange power armor. The large metal plating over the exo-suit beneath was the same color as the dust outside of Relocation Block 36G. Her disciplined, four-foot tail rested perfectly still behind the hulking reptilian. The spiky frills along her head and the back of her neck stood on end.

“Maybe I’m just trying to bug you, Forty.” The Daxy chuckles, her voice distorted through the microphone.

“'Bug me?' That's a high bar, Xalara.” You reach toward your plain, white nightstand and slip your glasses up the bridge of your nose, allowing you to see your accommodations more clearly. Your size allotment wasn’t unlike the typical US prison-cell before the war. “A few lost hours of sleep isn't exactly time on dusting-duty or pheromone torture. I’ve seen worse, even from you.”

The comment prompted a whimsical wave of her spined tail. "Shit, is that a compliment or an insult?" The iridescent spikes caught in the dim, white light of the hallway outside. From what you knew, the strange discoloration was likely due to a genetic mutation.

You rise from your bed, and walk to the blank white wall of your cell. Nearly every surface in the confining space is white or gray, and the only furniture you have is a small table, nightstand, and bed. 

“Not even going to ask why I'm here?” Xalara taunts.

“What is it?" You concede. "Power outage in the upper-banks? Condensers need fixing?” You press the wall of your cell with both hands. With a click, the wall panel opens up at a ninety degree angle. “Or maybe you really do want to torture me. Maybe you're about to force me in a suit to go dust off the comm-relays out in the cold.”

“And waste your technical talent to a dumbass dust-storm?” Her strange compliment doesn’t sound like one. “No, we're dealing with some of your 'fellow personnel'. Well, not quite, but-”

“What?” Your hand stops as it reaches for a weight-vest locked to the inside of the open panel. “Other prisoners?”

“Prisoner.” Xalara hisses her correction. “A Daxy prisoner, Forty.”

You stop. You decide to leave your sleeping jumpsuit on. “You want to see me dead?” Starting again, you unzip just the top-half of your jumpsuit to bare your chest to the slightly cool air. You pull your arms out of their sleeves

“Ha. No, not today.” The Daxy taps her boot against the scuffed tile outside. “C’mon, faster”

You reach out to pull your Weight-Compensator from the dresser. “Just need to make sure my muscles don’t atrophy.” You slip the elastic, heavily-weighted long-sleeve over your upper-body. It strains a little bit at the force, but you easily slip into it with practiced finesse.

You wobble nearly imperceptibly on your tight slippers at the massive weight force. Some text lights up a faint blue under your jumpsuit sleeve.

ADJUSTING WEIGHT DISTRIBUTION — EARTH WEIGHT SIMULATED FOR USER X-407-MAR 

The weighted sludge inside the tight-elastic moves around until your balance is just right, and you're no longer staggering at the weight. 

“I just keep the motor-assistance on my armor off.” Xalara flexes one of her arms into a dramatic bend, despite not being able to see the actual arm beneath her armor. The worn, elastic folds of the elbow joint strain at her demonstration. “Keeps me toned in this Axilis-forsaken hellhole. My mate loves a woman with some meat on her.”

“Lucky you.”

Xalara had shown her the pictures of her mating ceremony just a few weeks ago. She had shared the professionally-photographed images with excitement.

Something about seeing a human man being carried in a monster's arms didn’t get any less strange. 

You stick your arms back in your soft, polyester sleeves, and pull your jumpsuit over your weighted shirt. You pull up the zipper, concealing the vest beneath the thin fabric of your sleeping-suit. 

Your jumpsuit is lined with stripes of dark blue extending up from the bottom of the pants, and up either side of your chest. Each of those stripes is adorned with four red bands, denoting the security required to keep you locked down. 

Four is the most they can give to non-violent prisoners.

“C’mon, stop stalling." The wiggling of the Daxy's tail becomes snappy and impatient. "You want to get back to bed? I do. I’ve got a date.”

“I’m not stalling.” Your retort is flat. 

“Then you’re just slow.”

You reach up to close the panel of your minimalist dresser, clicking it back into the wall. “Also, you’ve got a date every night. You sleep with your husband, right?” 

Xalara tilts her head. “I don’t use such oppressive terms for my mate, like your kind.” If this back-and-forth wasn't so typical between you two, her vicious tone might scare you. A low growl vibrates the solid wall separating you and Xalara. “And no, I don’t 'sleep with him', I fu-”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” 

What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.

The passage crosses your mind involuntarily at your internal judgement of Xalara's relationship with her "mate". Maybe their programming was finally getting to you.

You reach up to double-tap the closed metal panel of your closet, rather than press it. The solid white metal fades to a reflective surface in the blink of an eye.

“Seriously? Going to style your hair, now?" Her scoff is deep with mock-contempt. "Typical. This is why frills are better.”

“Sorry, I left mine on Earth.” You meet your own light-blue eyes in the mirror. You straighten out your shoulder-length auburn hair as much as you can with a few swipes of your hand. You still have a moderate case of bed-head, but you've gotten some of the frizz under control.

You reach up to tap the panel again, but your hand stops at the clinking object on your wrist. You twist and adjust your crudely-cast platinum bracelet, though it doesn’t rest on your skin any more comfortably than before. You try again with nervous movements, but to no avail.

F- -re -ver

The words once etched into the surface of the platinum are wearing away. It takes a moment to pull your eyes back to the mirror. You look right into your own eyes.

Something inside you jumps at your own gaze. The Daxy’s most despised enemy is looking back at you.

Their programming really was working.

To avoid thinking anymore, you say the first thing that comes to your hazy mind. “Tell me about this prisoner.” You barely detect the movement of your own lips. "Daxy prisoner," you correct yourself under your breath.

The Sergeant reaches out to open the door with a chortle. "Don't worry, last I checked she's out cold. Even if we did see her, she can't bite your head off if she's not awake, right?"

"You're insane." You reach up to tap on the mirror again, and your image vanishes. 

Xalara puts her claws to the pheromone-detector outside. With the whirr of hydraulic pistons and the hissing of pneumatic locks, the foot-thick bulkhead of your cell is pulled upward and into the ceiling. 

"C'mon," the Sergeant says, her voice no longer distorted over a microphone. She looms over you with real, physical presence now. "You know the drill, hands in the air. We're traveling to another block, so I need to lock you up." She pulls some titanium locks and chains from a pouch on her massive thigh. "I'd usually bring a shock-collar and three other bitches per protocol, but this is off the books and I know you'll be good."

With practiced obedience, you raise your hands to the sky. You barely keep them up with your tired body. "Let's get this over with." 

“I’ll tell you about the crazy criminal bitch in a second," Xalara says, taking three hulking steps toward you and into your cell. "It'll be a long walk."

You sigh, stiffening your body in preparation for your familiar bonds.

Maybe you could discretely notify Warden Vera on a passing terminal, before your headless corpse got tossed out of an airlock somewhere.

"You'll be fine. The Local Warden herself asked for you.” Your reptilian master takes three hulking steps toward you, and wraps the first titanium chain around your midsection. "Don't worry, human female." 

You frown at Xalara's venomous tone. Your last thought is replaced by a new one as painful restraints tighten around your ankles and wrists.

She is going to kill me.

Chapter Text

You breathe in deep as jets of freshly-recycled air blow into your face from above. You stand with Xalara on the diamond-patterned metal plating of the Inter-Block Rail station. The station was small, being a mere fifty feet long, and fourty feet across. A dark holodisplay on the wall would usually display the martian surface above, but solid green text over a pitch-black background remained in its stead.

ERROR: CLASS-3 STORM IN PROGRESS
IMAGE UNAVAILABLE

“Come on!” Xalara is furiously tapping at her banged-up PDA just outside of one of the rail system’s little armored cabs. It rests on a once-sleek monorail, which has since been coated in nearly a decade of dirty grease and orange dust. 

An automated, human male voice from the station speakers above accompanies the Sergeant’s fuming. “Warning: Selected destination is a maximum security wing. One-time use authorization code or Warden’s approval is required.”

“I have the code!” Xalara tightens her claws around the abused device. “I will find you, Ben, you little slut! Think you’re so cute with your little human voice? I’ll…” She bites the dark purple lip of her triangular maw in frustration.

“BEN’s voice is synthetic.” Your titanium shackles clink with your chains as you turn to her. “He’s not real,” you clarify. 

“I know, but I’m angry, Forty!” Xalara huffs. “The relocated human women talk to him like he’s real.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been imprisoned, not relocated.” ‘Though there isn’t much of a difference’, you want to whisper. You don’t. “I never was into those romance-suites. It’s a sinister imitation of the real thing.” You tilt your head. “Also, I told you to get a new PDA. Some of the first-generation ones produced on Earth have faulty capacitors.”

 She extends her PDA to you. “Oh yeah? You fix it then, brainy bitch!” Xalara’s tail clangs against the closed door of the rail-car. She straightens out with a huff, her frills twitching on the back of her neck. “Alright, I’m good now.” Amazingly, a wave of practiced calm washes over her as you reach up. “I’m good,” she says again.

You happily take her device. 

“You try anything…” Xalara gnashes her teeth at your seizing it from her claws.

“You’ll break my neck; you’ll stick me with your pheromones as neurochemical torture. I know.” You had no intentions of doing anything suspicious on it, but you couldn’t anyways with the towering Sergeant looking right at the busted device with you. It was the rough shape of an old, metal cigarette case, but contained a folding screen inside instead.

“I heard you hacked the IB-Rail when they first brought you from Earth. Took them two weeks to fix it.” Her voice is low now. Xalara still angry, but she’s hiding it well with conversation. “Tried to get yourself to a shuttle.” She’s close enough for you to feel her hot breath.

“That’s because my malicious code was dynamic. I actually wrote an AI to hack into the station for me. She was very good at covering her tracks.” You look up at Xalara. “Also, I had a date to make.” You nod, your tone remaining the same. “Almost got away with it too.” 

You tap on the folded screen, and it blinks a bright white before coming to life again. Behind a minimal selection of apps, Xalara’s background is a selfie of her and a much shorter human man. They stood in front of a scenic overlook of a lush and tropical river canyon.

Your thumb stops over the scratched surface of the screen. 

Xalara’s mate had ocean-blue eyes that were nearly bulging out of him with how hard she was squeezing him into her side. His height barely measured up to her breasts. 

Despite it, he was smiling brightly. His gaze of adoration wasn’t vacant like some pheremone-husk, it was sincere and present.

“My little desert flower.” Xalara is nearly giddy at the sight of her mate. “My Mark.” 

“He looks happy.” Your heart aches with your own incompleteness, despite your praise. “You both do.”

“We are. We’re trying for kids.” 

You feel nothing at the revelation. “That’s nice.” 

You shake yourself from the many thoughts which follow. You tap on the peer-to-peer encryption app. The background disappears into a basic, white and black, text-based application. It opens up to the same code that Xalara was using before.

“Think you could just hack the rail again? Get us across?” 

Your metal restraints clink against the opened metal case of the PDA. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“What do you think, braniac?” Xalara’s stern question breaks into laughter. “You’d get both of us in such deep shit! I really would break your neck.”

Despite the threat, her voice is light. Unless you really did try to escape, a prisoner of your security level was under special protection. 
 
“Well, don’t worry. Relocation Security patched the issue right after.” You squint at the code sent to Xalara. You hold the screen to the Sergeant. “Looks like the app bugged out. The code is transmitted in hexadecimal, but it never got converted back to the original numeric and alphanumeric sequence.”

“Alphanumeric?” 

“Letters.” Years of experience as a adjunct professor have blessed you with patience for ignorance.

Xalara huffed. “Great, what do we have to do to convert it? Do we need another program, or-”

You shuffle the few feet toward the terminal beside the armored rail-car. “Not necessary.” You press your hand to the smooth glass. With trained efficiency, you convert the code in your head and type out the fifteen characters.

“Security Code Accepted. Welcome Aboard, Sergeant Xalara and Prisoner X-407-MAR”

"Nice, Forty." Xalara grumbles. “Smart bitch.” 

“It’s first year comp-sci.” 

“Do I look a student to you?” Xalara quickly snatches the PDA from your hand, and tugs on your titanium chains with her other claw. “Can’t have you looking at anything you shouldn’t now, come on. Vera would have my ass.”

“Hey!” Your slipper-clad heels drag along the textured plating of the IB-Rail station. 

The blast-proof doors of the armored car part, and Xalara drags you inside.

There’s enough seating to fit about thirty people in the monorail car, but between the worn straps and the tarnished metal poles to hang onto, more than fifty could be transported without much trouble. 

The AI continues as a massive linear-gear mechanism shuts the the sliding bulkhead of the cab. “Current Location: Arabia Terra Facility//Eastern District — Prison Sector — Block 364. The current time is two-hundred hours. Thank you for-”  

The door seals and pressurizes. With the faint, low hum of electromagnetic power, the cab starts to inch forward.

Ben continues his automated dialogue over the many mechanical and electronic noises of the awakening vehicle. “Selected destination is… Moreux Maximum-Security Detention Facility - Block 4. Estimated time of arrival is fifty four minutes given current weather conditions.”

Xalara takes hold of one of the metal poles closest to the car’s foot-thick door. “Not as long as I expected.” She tightens her grip on your shackles to prevent you from staggering at the acceleration. “Still, settle in.”

“Do you intend on standing the whole time?” 

“I’m better on my feet.” Her eyes flash, unsettled.

You frown. It was one of her idiosyncrasies. 

The rail-car makes its way to the end of the station, and a bulkhead lifts to reveal a cylindrical underground tunnel. It comes to a three-way split in the rail, and the car veers to the left path with a loud click. The surrounding tunnel was displayed through interlocked, hexagonal holodisplays covering most of the surface area of the brutally angular walls of the car. 

There were only four real windows, one on each side of the car, and they were barely a foot in diameter. It was hard to escape from a nearly-solid metal box. The ceiling-mounted turret in the very corner of the cab was hidden behind overlapping-layers of metal plating, but you knew it could deploy in an instant and kill you at command.

You slump against the opposite side of the pole Xalara is holding to. You’re able to support a thigh on an adjacent, plush chair, but you don’t have enough give on your chains to actually sit in it. “Might as well start telling me about my future murderer-” you look up at your captor with one tired, unamused eye. “-forgive me, I meant my ’fellow inmate.’”

Xalara snickers. “Guess you’ve earned it.” She flicks open her PDA’s metal case with a practiced motion. She navigates through the UI with one of her large claws until the picture of a sinister-looking Daxy comes up. “Meet Kasvex. No one knows her family name.” 

You eye the mugshot with heart-pounding fear, and curiosity. 

A multi-color Daxy stands before a white background. Her scales are a midnight-purple, with the occasional jagged stripe of aquamarine disrupting the dark color. Even specks of red color splatter the coloring of the baggy neck-scales and the broad maw of the frightening creature.

“I’ve never seen a tri-colored Daxy. I know heterochromia phenotypes exists, but-”

“Oh, that’s blood.” Xalara says  “Sorry, it’s a crap image. She actually bit the photographer’s arm-” She hesitates. “-non-fatally. The guards got the bitch restrained quick.”

The image of Kasvex is baring her teeth in a slight smile. 

Now that you look closer, you can see the spots of red on her rows of natural, flesh-rending implements too. Even the Daxy, the most brutal creatures of all, so were rarely so violent against their own. 

“That definitely qualifies her as insane. What’s her story?” You surprise yourself with your own emotionally-detached remark. The great fear was outweighed by the excitement of a mystery. 

The rail-car continues to accelerate, almost imperceptibly. You’ve gotten up to a considerable speed now, with the dull yellow lights of the tunnel scrolling past the holodisplays. The sound of howling wind grows louder as you progress down the underground tunnel.

“The Freemen were a highly organized resistance group on Earth, lead by some skinny General from the Induction War. They called him-” she purses her lip. “-’The General’. Our arm-biting friend here was one of his lieutenants. Other captured Freemen tell us that she was madly in love with him, but he leaned more toward your side of the forward-bow, if you catch my drift.”

You blink. “I don’t.” 

Xalara’s slit eyes narrow at your obtuseness. “He only mated with human women,” she tries and fails to restrain the venom in her voice, her faintly iridescent frills standing on end. “Kasvex didn’t like that. She tried to take power while he was still around, but him and his top lieutenant thwarted the attempt. She got put in her place-” she chortles. “-just like a human woman.”

I’m right here, you know. You idly twist at your platinum band, pressed uncomfortably to your wrist by your shackles. Probably best to move on. “’Were’? What happened to the Freemen? I remember them forming right after the Continental Army surrendered.” They weren’t always virtuous, but there were a lot of good people there just trying to reclaim their autonomy.

“For Axillis’ sake, I was getting to that, Forty." She points a claw toward you, waving her PDA around in one hand. "This is where things get interesting. Rumor has it Colonel Axla Braxys started the hunt of a lifetime; she called in some of the best personnel from the Earth Administration. Even put out a bounty.” Xalara’s gravelly voice raises in pitch. Her eyes light up. 

“Disappointed you weren’t invited to the party?” Your response is sharper than you intend. Your spine chills at the mere utterance of the Colonel’s name. Of course it would be her. It was always her. “What does she have to do with the Freemen?”

“I don’t know all the details, but the General got in the Colonel’s way during her hunt. When she took care of him, the command structure of the western cell of the Freemen fell apart. The General’s top lieutenant went MIA, and Kasvex tried to take command again, but this time, she was caught. Apparently she didn’t have the finesse of the General. The Civil Guard were kind enough to kick her out here for us to deal with.”

“The Colonel ’took care of him?’” Your curiosity is overcome by a fresh wave of fear. You take a few deep breaths to subdue it. 

“Apparently he gave a lot of intel on his operations willingly. A nice dose of pheromones would be my first guess. Considering how recent all of this is, he’s probably just getting on Assignment now.” She shakes her head. “Either way, this-” she stops. “Forty, you alright?”

Your fists are clenched tight at your side. You saw the Colonel ‘take care’ of a lot of people on Earth. Your shut your eyes, but the images in your mind don’t get any dimmer. 

“Two of you have history?” 

The voice of Xalara breaks you from your trance. She peers into your eyes from above. The low drone of the dust storm above-ground drowns out the memories of shouts and screams. 

“She has ‘history’ with my whole species.”

Xalara sighs deeply. The slits of her reptilian eyes dart from yours. “I meant the General.” 

“Right.” You fold your arms, your cuffs clinking together. “The Colonel isn’t relevant to this conversation.” 

“No, she isn’t.”

There’s the awkward silence again.

You turn your head to look out of the holodisplay at the front of the car. The car diverges rightward at another fork in the monorail. Your slippers nearly slide from the metal plating at the slight turn, but Xalara holds you fast by your chains.

“What do you need me to do?” Your query is low, barely a mumble. Some part of you wanted to at least get along with the one person you interacted with every day, even if she was a Daxy. 

“Sure you want to know?” Xalara had heard your question. “We could talk about your ‘history’ if you want. I know barely anything about who you were, and it’s been three years since I was stationed here. Gotta be some cool shit you did.” 

Then again, another part of you wanted to see her blasted out of an airlock. 

“Fine.” She raises her jaw at your defiant silence. “I’ll let Warden Vera tell you herself.”

You stand straighter against the metal pole at your back. Your mouth parts, but you hold the words back.

Xalara notes your reaction with smugness. “Actually, she might be waiting for us now.” 

At this hour? She oversees thousands of prisoners! You scowl at Xalara, still determined on giving her the silent treatment. 

The edges of Xalara’s lip turn upward. “Ben, video-call Warden Vera. Patch it through to the car.”

“Very well, Sergeant.” The AI chirps obediently overhead. 

There’s a single, drawn-out buzz from overhead. Another beep confirms that the call has been answered.

“Are you on your way?” The question comes from a familiar, high-pitched voice. Warden Vera appears on one of the holodisplays, her dark-red visage magnified on the wall of the car. “Is prisoner four-zero-seven in your charge?”

“Yes, Warden.” Xalara responds without inflection. Her mischievous tone from before has vanished.

Vera pushes a glowing visor up her snout. Her eyes are distracted from you and Xalara by the image displayed thereon. “I hoped you would’ve called sooner,” the young Daxy’s voice is hurried. She’s hunched over at her desk, rather than sitting in her large and comfortable chair. She stands in a bunker-like structure, the dark-gray of surface-concrete making up the wall behind her. 

“I’m sorry for the delay, Warden.”

The image and audio crackles at interference from the storm.

“Ah, prisoner, it is a pleasure to see you.” Vera redirects her focus to you, turning from the terminal she was furiously typing on. She smiles, baring her teeth. “I know you’ll be of some help.” Her figure silhouettes a real window behind her, but whatever image you would’ve seen of the martian surface is obscured in a tempestuous cloud of orange dust. “High Command has approved for you to consult in this very critical matter.”

You frown. “My apologies, Warden Vera, but what exactly do you need me to do?” 

“You haven’t told her?” Vera’s lava-orange eyes widen and she leans toward the camera.

A low growl comes from Xalara’s throat, likely only loud enough for you to hear. “The prisoner was being-” The sergeant grits her teeth to prevent the next words from leaving her lips, clenching her gauntlet-clad claws around your chains. “-was asking questions beyond my knowledge. I thought it would be better if she heard her own role from you.”

“Very well.” Vera stops typing on her terminal, finally giving you and your guard full-focus. She folds her claws together. Unlike most of the Daxy in the prison, she’s dressed in a modestly-trimmed deep-blue robe. It would look more like night-wear than a uniform, if it wasn’t for her golden rank and commendations displayed proudly over her left breast. “I’m sure you were briefed on Miss. Kasvex.” 

“I was.” You nod.

“Excellent.” Vera blinks into the camera. Her voice distorts at a bit of interference. Maybe her voice just cracked. “It wasn’t her ‘purging’ over a hundred human women in the Freemen organization that got her caught-”

Your eyes widen. Xalara conveniently omitted that detail from your earlier briefing. 

“-but this.” Vera taps at a key on her terminal, and an image of a dark server-room pops up on the holodisplay. “The Assignment Commission flagged a server in Angeles for unusual activity. Within the hour, the Civil Guard had tracked down and captured Kasvex. We know that her team penetrated the server’s security, and likely modified the Assignment Algorithm.”

“And you want my help to fix it?” You shake your head. “Cybersecurity and penetration aren’t really my expertise. I can do it, but-”

“I’m not done.” Vera holds up a claw. “We don’t know how the Algorithm has changed. It’s shown an overall, one-percent increase in favorability toward military officers and scientific staff in the Earth Administration, but there aren’t any consistent modifiers or commonalities besides that to pin down. Even if we did, the hackers did a good job of covering their tracks. We can’t tell which modifiers in the probabilities were introduced by them, and which came off-world from the Assignment Commission.”

Xalara tilts her maw. “I thought the brass always got preference.” 

“They do, but not like this. We suspect Kasvex has been trying to gain allies within the Earth Administration-”

“-and she tried to change the Algorithm to buy their loyalty with mates?” The Sergeant completes the thought. “Shit.”

“Exactly.”

“You said the modifiers keep changing. If whatever malicious code they introduced is dynamic, there’s some kind of Artificial Intelligence at play.” You lift up your cuffed hands. “That’s why you’re bringing me in.” You look to Xalara. “I always heard that the Assignment Algorithm was some hyper-advanced neural net.”

Xalara’s maw twists in confusion at your remark. Her tail whips back and forth in frustration.

“Still,” you take a step toward the holodisplay, but that’s all that the give on your chain will afford. “-there has to be better experts on the Algorithm than me.”  

“The Assignment Commission has some of its own coming in from the Homeworld, and there’s a whole army of techs already on it. However-” Vera hesitates, taking a moment to find her words. Her digital form avoids your eyes. “-Colonel Braxys just used the World Bridge to bring in a whole army of Hunters for her operation. It’ll be at least twenty four hours before the Commission gets their experts in-system, and the Administration wants more qualified individuals critically examining the problem right now.”

“It’s just a day-”

“No.” Vera cuts you off with the first bit of real sternness you’ve seen from her. “By the Assignment Commission’s own regulations, the Earth Administration had to suspend all human Assignments until this is resolved, or at least until the extent of the disruption can be ascertained. The Administrator has asked that we make this a top priority.”

Xalara nearly drops the chains in her hands. “They put a hold on Assignment?” Seems she didn’t know this either. “My sister is going to be pissed.” 

“Along with a billion other Daxy dying for a human male,” Vera says with a scowl. “So, prisoner, are you up to the task?”

They wanted you to fix the technological machinery which submitted half your species to slavery? The request would be comical if they weren’t so serious. 

“Something isn’t right.” You squint, your brow furrowing. “You could’ve brought a terminal to my room if this was just a technical problem. I was under the impression that I was going to visit this prisoner.”

“Sergeant Xalara was probably trying to scare you.” The Warden’s voice warbles with nervousness. “I doubt such an encounter will be necessary, though you are technically the most qualified to interview her about the technical details. The Freemen prepared for this operation for a long time, and anything that is advanced enough to disrupt the Assignment Algorithm must be-- well, more at your level of expertise, and not at the level of a fleet-tech.” 

Your mouth hangs open. Would they really use you as bait just to piss off the mass-murdering Daxy? 

Of course they would.

Vera moves on from the ghastly possibility. “There is another expert, and a whole team of techs that will be working on this with you. We really just want you to be in the same block as the prisoner and our team. I hate ‘digital collaboration’.” Vera grunts, returning her claws to her terminal to clack away at the glass slate. “Never works. Besides, the storm is projected to worsen over the next few days and I don’t want to take the chance of our team being cut-off from each other.” 

The overly-conscientious warden was not only costing you sleep, but now the comfort of your little cell. The odds of disruptions in intra-base communications or transportation were remote with the dusting-drones keeping sensitive equipment clean, but you weren’t going to point that out. 

Sensing your concern, Vera’s voice quiets. “I assure you that the upmost security measures are in-place. We understand how much of a threat Kasvex is. I’m confident that you’ll be of one-mind with our expert. Your collaboration will be exciting!”

You frown. The “expert” was probably a baby-sitter to make sure you didn’t secretly sabotage the Daxy’s infrastructure. “And what do I get out of it?” you ask. As the words come out, you realize they might seem insubordinate.

Xalara growls at your question, tugging you toward her.

You dig your heels in as you slide back toward the Sergeant. 

Before the Warden can react to your question, there’s a call from a male voice somewhere off-screen. “Vera!” 

Vera doesn’t seem offended like the sergeant. “I don’t expect you to go unrewarded, Four-zero-seven. Let’s talk more about that when you arrive.” Her voice speeds to being nearly incomprehensible at the off-screen call for her attention. “But you must perform the task faithfully to be rewarded. We can count on you, yes?”

The car beeps, and the holodisplay goes dark.

Xalara rests a threatening claw on your shoulder. “You’re lucky Warden Vera is a liberal newt. The Empire needs you to serve, you do it, human female. Reward or not.”

You grasp at the dull titanium around your sore neck. Your eyes are drawn to the monorail track ahead of you. The dull yellow lights whip past as you hurtle toward your destination. The wind howls fiercely above the tunnel.

“Yes-” You barely muster the strength to wince at the pressure around your neck. “Lucky me.”

Chapter Text

“Her condition is still serious-”

“We got her to the best trauma team on Earth minutes after her injury! I don’t understand.” Administrator Paxi leaned over the long conference table in her diplomatic chambers. To her left, a holodisplay spanning the thirty-foot wall played the image of the lightened Earth rotating beneath the Earth Administration Flagship.

At the opposite end of the dull, metallic table, the stout Commander Visselax looked up at her with a grimace. “Doctor Levi has expressed confidence that she will make it, and upgraded her condition from critical.” She weaved her claws together in her lap, her green Civil Guard uniform tight around her scales. The light from the holodisplay glinted off of a badge of two silver, crossed rifles on her breast. “None of the team think the Colonel is going to die anymore.”

Paxi shook her head, glancing down at her terminal on the table. The illuminated glass slate displayed the dossier of the doctor in question. “Commander, are we sure the best trauma doctor for a Daxy is a human male?” The moment the words left her, she blinked. Did I just say that?

Visselax’s maw hung open. Her claw slowly lowered to her side. “Administrator-”

The Administrator placed both hands on the table, bowing her head and closing her eyes. The picture of the doctor on her terminal looked like Adrian. 

She still smelt him in the air. 

She imagined his warmth. 

Black and gold robes rubbed against her scales as Paxi’s arms quivered under her own weight. 

“Administrator, for trauma, Levi is not only the best, but was one of the closest to the site of the battle. Colonel Braxys had a major artery pierced under her shoulder. Considering the additional wound in her head, it is miraculous that the medics stuffed both in-time. Frankly, she is fortunate to have survived to see the inside of an operating room-”

“I understand.” Paxi nodded, quieter. She saw Adrian working in his lab, and felt the burn of ozone in her sinuses from one of his experiments. “If you say Doctor Levi is the best, I believe it.” She glanced at the closed book on the conference table. It pictured a raft floating freely down a river beneath clear blue skies.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

“Are you okay, Administrator?”

She lingered in her uncomfortable position for another second, before standing straight to face the Commander. 

“Administrator-” The Commander tapped her dress-boots against the floor. “Permission to speak freely?” Her terse remark barely made it from her tightened lips.

Paxi squinted. “Granted.”

Visselax’s black frills quivered as she began. “You lost your best woman, and your mate. Have you considered the offer of the High-Chieftess? I know-”

“No!” Paxi’s spiky, golden frills stood on end. 

Her curt interruption was followed by silence.

“I am leading Search Block until the Colonel recovers, I will not let the Hunters take over. They failed!” she roared. 

The Commander’s maw hung open in silence.

“No, no…” Paxi straightened the stiff collar on her robes, and her voice quieted. “I swear by the very House of Axillis that I will find and kill the mate-thief who has sought to usurp my role as matriarch of my family! She stole the sire of my children to play pretend with the religious fanatics!”

Visselax’s dark scales flushed purple with shame. She dropped to one knee, arms across her chest, and voice shaking. “I am sorry, Administrator. I didn’t mean to-”

“Leave me, Commander.” Paxi raised her chin contemptuously to her inferior, waving her off. “I trust that the expansion of the search area in the American Southwest will be carried out competently by the Civil Guard. I will hold you to account while the Colonel is incapacitated.”

“Yes, Administrator!” Visselax nearly leapt back onto her feet. As respectfully and quickly as she could, she turned and marched through the open double-doors to Paxi’s chambers.

The Administrator buried her face in her hands below the light of the holodisplay. The Earth rotated in silence. 

She remembered the sting of the winter morning the day she picked Adrian up from Fort Christ in Utah.

She remembered her mating retreat with Adrian. She rubbed her fingers together, nearly feeling the mist of Hawaii’s waterfalls between her scales.

She remembered his fear when she first took him on that beautiful beach. She had expected it, but she tried to be gentle, even as she used force to take what she wanted. 

The good doctor had wept guiltily after he finally succumbed to her, but she thought that was cute. His belief in the false tradition of “marriage” she found amusing. It was the human man’s loyalty and adoration twisted, abused, and diverted from its true and destined source to comical absurdity.  

Human women were barely fit to work the atmospheric recyclers on Mars, let alone protect their better half. 

Paxi had melted Adrian’s wedding band and casted it as part of that wonderful collar around his neck. Though some Daxy had done such things when they took human mates from their "wives", many others found the destruction of the false symbol abusive and objectionable. Paxi, however, was quite fond of the practice. 

She smiled, alone in her chambers, her fingers still rubbing together.

Another of her kind deciding to steal his precious love was less amusing. The seeds had been there for so long, but… 

Her expression turned to a frown. She lowered her hands back to her sides, and looked up at the bright image of the Earth. The sun glinted off of the visible hundreds of other ships in the Earth Fleet, illuminating the swarm of sparkling gray specks in the inky blackness.

A low growl formed in her throat, but she swallowed it back down with a clench of her fists. 

“Incoming Call…” The ringing of her Augmented-Reality visor on the table disrupted her thoughts. “…High Command — Priority A-Ten. Source: WORLD BRIDGE COMMUNICATIONS” it beeped three times. “…Scientific Advisor to the Empress, Counselor Voxas.”

Paxi stiffened, her eyes glazed over. 

Her golden visor rang again. “Notice; this is a top priority message.”

In a moment, she sprung into action. “Computer, accept call. Forward to Diplomatic Chambers Holodisplay.”

“Administrator Paxi, it is a pleasure.” The smiling visage of a light-blue Daxy appeared on the screen. Her maw was narrow, and her eyes glowed a radiant silver.

“Honorable Advisor-” Paxi immediately dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “-the pleasure is all mine.” She looked up slowly, her tail swinging behind her. 

Voxas chuckled, her voice deep. “There is no need to be so formal. You are not in the Empress’ chambers, Paxi.”

“Of course.” Paxi stood as quickly as she knelt down. “What can I do for you?”

The Counselor’s smile didn’t falter. “Surprisingly, more than you already have, and that is saying something.” Her robe was black, with stripes of red on either shoulder. Gold thread weaved through the black, creating an ordered web of shimmering metal in her uniform. “You are an invaluable asset to Axillis’ Right Hand herself.”

“I’m grateful for the Empress and High Command supporting my station here.” She nodded. “Thank you, Counselor. That means a lot, coming from you.”

“To Induct the planet from which my Eldest daughter would find her mate-” Voxas returned the nod. She stood before a window, through which a vast expanse of twisting sky-scrapers and shuttle-traffic extended as far as the eye could see. Every structure was perfect and pristine in the bright desert sun and yellowed-haze of the Homeworld. A car shot up the rail of a distant space-elevator, sending vibrations through the gray rod piercing the skyline. “-from what I have seen and heard of them, humans make for exciting and fascinating mates.”

“That they do.” 

“To see that they nearly won during the first wave of their Induction— truly exceptional.” Her quickening voice betrayed her curiosity. “It is a great blessing that Colonel Braxys prevented the humans from hurting themselves any more than they already had. We would’ve been forced to send a fleet ten times the size…” 

The Administrator listened to the Counselor with a polite smile.

“…Counselor Reesa said that their world was impoverished by weak mates and a small fleet would do fine— that they would leap into our arms if shown our strength. She was right, but it also seems she didn’t take into account how determined those little men would be!” There was something childlike about her temperament and enthusiasm. 

The Administrator’s expression flattened. She was completely shadowed by the massive image of the Counselor on the holodisplay. “Humans are quite determined, indeed. It is one of their lovely attributes.”

“A lovely attribute that is better vested in rearing of family and building the Empire, but I digress. I’m rambling, am I not?” She laughed at herself, the mask-like visor over her eyes illuminating her face in a deep red hue. “I hear that you have a lot on your plate, and I hate to add more, but I promise that I will handle most of the relevant arrangements.” 

“Arrangements?”

“My daughter doesn’t want her Joining to be on the Homeworld, she wants it on Earth in honor of the heritage of her prospective mate.”

“On Earth, Counselor?” She folded her arms over her chest. “You have heard-”

“Believe me, I am privy to it all.” Her jovial lightness drained from her features. “The Empress herself believes that a more overt Imperial presence will help quell the unrest that is troubling Earth. With Colonel Braxys in recovery, I would like to come with an ARH unit and establish a Probational Imperial Office.”

“We already have a whole battalion of Hunters on-world, but it would definitely help.” Administrator Paxi blinked dumbly. “I’m still contending with a group of religious fanatics, and another group of rebels that have interfered with the instance of the Assignment Algorithm on Earth-”

“Yes, Zion and the Freemen. I’ve done the relevant reading on the former. Their scripture is truly fascinating-” her visor lit up a light blue, text lining the curved screen over her face. “-I am not a High Priestess, but there are many doctrines espoused that match the practices of a follower of Axillis: Peace and benevolence, with a condemnation of evil.”

Paxi tried not to roll her eyes and feigned enthusiasm. “Fascinating.”

“It’s a shame they’d rather lose a tail than shed their false half. Otherwise, it would be easy to establish a peaceful arrangement with the followers of the Christ.” Her eyes dart across her visor. “They have an interesting idea about one’s ability to choose and of one’s accountability before the Almighty. They are inseparable, just as we believe, though the directives of said Almighty differ in a few points…” she trailed off.

"Yes, I have learned much, but-" Paxi straightened her back, and intertwined her claws behind her. Far below her feet, the ship’s reactor thrummed. “Counselor Voxas, with such exceptional measures, I must ask; does the Empress intend on making Earth a Core World?”

“Well, I do not like to speak on her behalf, but Earth is one of the most desirable posts and many humans have the most contested Assignments. That barely takes into account the large amount of geniuses among their population-” she hesitated. “-what I’ve seen of your mate’s research into intra-universal gate technology is ground-breaking. To couple a self-sustaining fusion reaction directly with the creation of negative mass is stunningly brilliant. Has he implemented it?”

“No, not to my knowledge, Counselor.”

Voxas frowned. “We will rectify that once he is back in your charge-” her eyes darted around, before settling once again on the Administrator. “-I’m sorry, by the way, Paxi. No one should suffer such indignity, especially not from their own ranks. It isn’t your fault.”

No, it is Nyx’s fault. That traitorous, soft-scale mate-stealer.

The Administrator couldn’t chew Voxas out like she did the Commander. Instead, she spoke a curt thanks through pursed lips. “Thank you, Counselor.”

“Expect my arrival in about three weeks, with specifics on my arrival and my dear daughter’s Joining ceremony much sooner.” She inhaled deeply. A golden imperial carrier cut a glowing trail across the sky behind the Counselor. The faint rumbling of its engines was audible through the call.

“Yes, Counselor.” The Administrator bowed. “Is there anything else?”

The glow of Voxas’ visor pulsed as text flew across its curved display. “Well…” the edge of her maw perks up. “Might I share some advice?”

“Of course, Counselor.”

“I’ve never seen a situation as-” she hummed as she chose her words. “-unique as humanity’s. I’ve seen everything from guerrilla rebel bands to runaway FTL ark-ships. My mate’s species even attempted kinetic bombardment on their own people at the end of their Induction, but…” She exhaled. “…I’ve never seen a separatist faction persist nearly a decade after a species’ Induction. Know that what you are dealing with is exceptional, and the Empress does not blame you for these problems.”

“With all due respect, Counselor, I was naive to humanity’s true potential. I believed them easy to control.” She chuckled, surprised by her own honesty. “Colonel Braxys was the right one to Induct humanity because she never underestimates them.”

“That self-reflection is what most leaders lack, Administrator.” Voxas smiled brightly and raised a talon. “It is what makes you perfect to finish their Induction, and solve the problems still ailing their world. Be the one to surprise them with what we are capable of, and you will finally bring Zion safely into our ranks. I’m sure of it.”

The baggy scales under the Administrator’s golden eyes faded as a disciplined, and stoic gaze graced her features. “Thank you, Counselor.”

The Counselor glanced somewhere off-screen. “My apologies, I must be going-” Her confident smile faltered. “-but I will make sure to keep in touch.” Her voice was tender and encouraging. “In my experience with males, whether they be my mate or a whole species, when things seem at their worst it means you are actually on the cusp of total victory. Remember that Axillis loves humanity. She will see to it that all of them become safely ours, and that your own mate comes to his rightful place.”

The Administrator dropped carefully to one knee, her well-fit robes pressed to the floor. “Yes, Honorable Counselor. I will seek to do her will.”

“May her blessing be upon you and upon humanity.”

The call ended with a beep and the screen went dark, leaving Paxi in the dim light of her diplomatic chambers. The room brightened as the holodisplay-wall switched to the silent, rotating image of the Earth.

She slowly got to her feet, turning around to face the conference table. She walked up to it, and took the old book from its polished surface. Her claws grazed cold metal as she handled and lifted the fabric hardcover. 

Paxi eyed the faded image of the raft, before opening its pages. She saw a familiar and faded message in blue ink. She had read it already when she first grabbed the book, but her eyes danced across Adrian’s handwriting anyways.

My Son, 

The world is not a great place, in no small part due to me. Regardless of what you may learn about me and yourself, know that I always did my best. 
I made many mistakes, but you were not one of them. Remember that. 
Although you never knew her as I did, know that your mother loves you very much. 
Contained within these pages is my life’s work. Take it to the Needle's Eye in Zion, and you shall find deliverance.  
I feel that I leave you with a terrible burden. 
Yet God tells me to smile for the trust He has in you. God watches over you and is with you. He will not forget thee, neither shall He forsake thee. 

Love, Dad

Nestled between the inside of the cover and some of the thinning pages was a recently-printed photograph. It showed Adrian and Commander Nyx, with Miles, a happy and innocent child, directly between them. They stood before the barracks of Fort Christ, and Nyx’s hand was placed firmly on the boy’s shoulder. Her blue Naval fatigues stood out against the black asphalt and the dull, temporary male housing.

Nyx was the cause of all of this. 

It didn’t begin with her stealing Adrian. Before that, the mate-stealer turned Adrian’s first son against Paxi, the highest officer in the Earth Administration, and rightful matriarch over the Penn bloodline. 

Adrian, the most brilliant jewel of her reign over humanity, had been plucked straight from her crown along with his son.

Paxi blinked. Her shaking hands held the photograph tighter. Her sharp talons poked a hole in the glossy paper right over Nyx’s heart. The Administrator’s maw twitched, and her core shook with a deep, guttural growl. 

In one quick and violent movement she tore the photograph in half, from the clear blue sky, and down through the image of Miles in the center.

The Penn family was hers. Whoever got in the way of that, got in the way of the whole Empire.

The Administrator let the two halves of the photograph slip from her claws and drift through the cold air. “Computer, call the Colonel. I want to see how she’s doing.”

“At once, Administrator. Records show the Colonel is currently in and out of consciousness. Do you want to attach a subject line to your call in case she misses it?”

“Yes-” Paxi paused, looking up at the spinning Earth below her gargantuan flagship. “Make the subject read, ‘Finishing what we started.’”

Chapter Text

I was so close.

I had him.

“Get up, exemplar.”

A deep, feminine voice rattled Colonel Braxys from above. 

Axla groaned as she awoke from her deep sleep. She was lying face down against something hard as cool, dry air flowed over her body. 

Planting her claws flat against the ground, she pushed herself onto her shaky knees. 

She was stranded in the middle of a vast desert, the breeze blowing at a medical gown covering her muscled form. 

Rolling red dunes surrounded her, the ocean of sand stretching as far as the eye could see. However, instead of cooking her in scorching heat, the air was temperate and comfortable. The two points of light of a binary star system, one a deep red and one a vibrant blue, illuminated the hazy orange sky. 

Axla rose to her feet with surprising ease. The pain and discomfort of an injured and recovering body no longer ailed her. 

She turned in either direction for something familiar, but the mountainous, three-hundred foot dunes of the Homeworld’s high desert formed an impenetrable wall at the horizon. 

The most notable thing out here was the few mysterious square feet of concrete beneath her feet. 

“You have much to learn, daughter.” The voice of an old Daxy matriarch vibrated the earth below. The dunes about her shifted, with a light trickle of sand particles sliding down over the concrete slab. 

“How did I get here? Who are you?” She turned about, trying to locate the source of the voice.

“Oh, dear daughter…” Her loving condescension was audible. “…my exemplar, always looking for the right things in the wrong places. When will you learn that things are not always as they seem?”

“Don’t give me riddles!”

“I will give you whatever I must to teach you.”

Something scuttled between Axla’s armored boots, whipping particles of red sand into the air. 

The Colonel looked down to find a three-tailed, feral newt between her feet. She bent down to the haunches of her legs to meet the silver eyes of the glowing creature.

“Axillis.” Axla’s legs wobbled involuntarily at the realization. She fell to her knees, and was stripped of her medical gown in a blink. “How-” A golden robe graced her features instead. “You leave us alone for so long, and you expect me to believe that now you intervene?” She shook her head. “No. I’m too old to believe old fables. This is a dream, or-”

“You misunderstand, daughter. All I demand is your attention.” The newt crooked its head. Was it smiling? “After I have shown you what I must, you can believe whatever you want to believe.”

The Colonel looked around at the desert. Even if it was her mind that brought her here, there must've been a reason why.

“Why do this?” Axla stood back to her full height. She glanced up at the sky. “Why ‘teach me’?”

“My beloved daughters wish to accomplish my mission in their own way, rather than in the way which I have provided. It is a folly I foresaw, but one that I must correct.” The Goddess’ voice brightened with satisfaction. “As I said, daughter, things are often not as they seem…” 

The newt scuttled away from her by its unnatural arrangement of wriggling tails. It leapt head-first off of the concrete platform and dove into the endless sea, sliding just under the surface of the sands.

Axla was overcome with joy as something burned deep within her chest. Her mouth was left agape at the divine feeling.

The newt swam under the sand, the lump swerving back and forth as it climbed the wind-swept slope of the fifty-foot dune. The tip-top of the mound aligned with the sky, just below the setting binary stars.

The stars brightened until the blue and red light was blinding, forcing the Colonel to keep her eyes on the ground. 

As the light receded, Axla looked up to the top of the dune. Instead of two stars, a female and male Daxy stood next to one another, hand-in-hand. 

Axillis, the ten-foot, ethereal behemoth glowed a soft red. Her male companion’s pulsing blue scales contrasted the brownish-red of the sand. The five-foot Lax mirrored the bright smile of his other half.

“Mother-” She fumbled over her words, hyperventilating as she turned her maw down to the ground. She raised one foot, but remained on one knee to enter a proper, worshipful position. 

“Daughter.” A glowing red claw caressed her cheek. She had crossed the distance to the Colonel in an instant. “Look up at me.”

Even as the piercing light of the First Mother’s love filled her heart, Axla couldn’t bring herself to look up at the Goddess. She blinked a growing moisture from her eyes. “I have failed. I-I am not worthy.”

“Oh, my daughter-“ Axillis stroked her claws lovingly across Axla’s hardened scales. “I am so proud of you. Only someone with your courage, your curiosity, and your heart could do what you have done. I’m here to teach you, my exemplar, so that you can find success in your mission.”

Slowly, painfully, Axla craned her neck back to look up at her mother. “It’s been so hard. I thought taking my mate would be easy, that-” She clenched her teeth. The love of her Great Mother momentarily soured with a sting of bitterness from deep within herself. “Miles was in my arms! He was mine, and I lost him!” 

Axillis’ piercing eyes softened further as she looked down at her daughter. She kept her hand on her cheek, and listened intently. 

“I failed him!” The bitterness sprung forth as hot tears. “I failed our future children!” She cried in her overwhelming anguish, dark trails of moisture staining her concave cheeks. 

The towering red Daxy bent down further on her haunches, bringing them closer to eye-level with each other. Her colossal six-foot tail swung behind her, and her elaborate rainbow-frill headdress fluttered. 

Axillis wrapped her arms around the smaller Axla, and pulled her close. “I know,” she cooed, rubbing her back with her massive claws. “I know.”

Axla closed her eyes, her maw resting on the Goddess’ shoulder as a torrential wind washed over the dunes. A flurry of sand was blown up into the air, but she didn’t feel a single grain against her while in the grasp of Axillis. 

“I have you,” Axillis said. Her love shined like a bright light in the horrible darkness. “I will not leave you, daughter.”

“Why didn’t you give him to me?” The pained, yet sincere question slipped from her lips before she could stop it. She clenched her maw tight. “I thought you could give him to me…”

The few strong gusts of wind died down around them. 

Axillis pulled back. Her hands remained firmly on Axla’s shoulders and she still beamed with the love of an attentive parent. “I could and I can. That I would protect males by my right hand, indeed, by my noble daughters; this is what I promised my very own beloved.”

“Then-”

“Why didn’t I give Miles to you?” Axillis chuckled. “Rise, daughter.”

With an encouraging pull upward and a supportive tail at her back, Axla rose to her feet. She shifted her bare feet on the concrete, trying to gain confidence in her uneasy position. 

“The tapestry of time weaves in unpredictable ways, beloved daughter. I will show you two ways to get what you want.” She withdrew her hands from Axla’s shoulders, before pointing at her. “First, I will show you your way, and then-” She turned her long claw onto herself. “-I will show you my way.” 

Axillis’ tail spun Axla around with one sharp twist. 

In a blink, the Colonel was dressed in her armor again and back in the bunker at Bryce Canyon. She was alone this time, save a wonderful, familiar warmth wrapped up in her arms and tail.

Axla held a pheromones syringe to Miles’ neck, and fastened her collar to him just below the injection site. The expertly-crafted titanium band locked around his pale skin with a click as she pulled the empty glass syringe from him.  

As his legs gave out and his eyes widened in a silence, she held him close midst a pile of scattered steel drums. “I’ve got you, my mate.” She kissed him on the cheek, and her voice shook. “I won’t let go this time.” 

Moonlight shined onto them from a hole in the bunker overhead. Flakes of falling snow fluttered through the air, landing in his lovely brown hair as she raked it with her claws.

In the shadows between the hanging fluorescent lights and moonlight, Axillis watched them from a distance. 

As Miles regained control of his limbs, he gripped at Axla desperately. His gloved finger-tips rubbed against the hard metal of her power armor. “Please, don’t let me go,” he begged. “Please.” His tears of joy pooled on her star-adorned shoulder plate. 

The Colonel wept with him, but not for the same reason. “I won’t, I won’t…” She shook with terrible guilt, soft, sweet nothings and promises falling from her lips. “Never.” She buried her snout into his shoulder, clenching her eyes shut.  

Miles spoke again, but now his voice was lucid and bright. “Tough day on Earth?” 

The Colonel blinked. She pulled back from his shoulder.

He stood before her just inside the open door to her own, personal quarters on the Administrator’s flagship. 

Axla felt as if she inhabited the body of another person. She looked around, a distant holodisplay showing the Earth.

The Earth’s whole surface was covered in a web of bright lights, elaborate infrastructure now connecting the megacities. The glinting rod of a space-elevator connected the planet to the large ring of a low-orbit World-Bridge.

“Love?” Miles still glowed with adoration, but his voice was discolored with concern. “I missed you-” The smaller human hesitated. “What’s wrong? Still no progress on finding Zion?” His voice was hurried and desperate.

“Nothing is wrong, my mate.” She sighed, taking his hand from her cheek and lowering it back to his side. “How about you, how was your day?” She was still wearing the navy cape and gold-engraved armor of the Administrator’s guard.

His eyes tracked hers like a hawk, as if he couldn’t focus fully on her question. “I’ve been working on the second version of the Echo that High Command commissioned, but-” he blinked. “-I just can’t figure out the rail-gun power optimization.” 

She tried to be reassuring. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Axillis standing out in the hallway. 

She expected the Goddess to be smiling, but instead, she was frowning. Deep distress and disappointment weighed on her features.

“I’m thinking of quitting the team, I just-” his smile brightened unnaturally. “-I want to take care of little Lax and Axys full time.”

Axla’s heart soared with joy at the thought of their children, but the thought of Miles’ not doing his work anymore left her at a loss. “Are you sure?” 

Miles nodded, scratching at his five-o’clock shadow. “I’m sure.” He sounded dispassionate as he stepped back, and faced down an adjoining hall. “Lax, come and see your mother!”

“Mama!” The voice of a little boy echoed down the hall. 

Still, despite the happiness she felt at the voice, she was frowning. Why was she frowning?

That isn’t what I want.

The moment the thought entered her mind, she felt two massive claws grip her shoulders from behind. “Do you want to see my way, daughter?”

Miles looked down the hall, crouched down to receive their son with opened arms. He seemed unaware of the Goddess standing in their chambers.

Axla’s heart ached. She hated what she was feeling; the pain and the joy together. She didn’t know what was wrong, but something was wrong.  

The Colonel clenched her eyes shut. “Yes.” 

When she opened them again, she was in Miles’ quarters aboard Orphan-9.

Axla could smell Miles behind her as she looked over his collection of little engineering projects on one of his shelves. 

She remembered the fear in his voice from this first encounter. She remembered his anxiety.

A true mate would ease the anxieties of the man she loves. 

“I find these trinkets quite interesting…” she said, not turning around to face him. “What is this one?” She picked up the familiar, brass and steel sterling engine. 

“Colonel Braxys.” Miles said, his voice quivering with such endearing anxiety. “I-I haven’t been Assigned yet, you know.” 

She wanted to point out how cute it was, but she stopped herself. 

The anxiety was real to him.

“I know, Miles. I know.” She breathed deep and turned to face him. “I just want you to know how much I care for you.” She hesitated at the look in his eyes. 

Last she was here she reveled in Miles’ wide-eyed awe. Now she hated it.

She dropped to one knee to be at eye-level with him, setting the sterling engine on her mate’s neatly-made bed. “Why are you afraid of me, Miles?” 

The sudden softness and sincerity clearly caught the young man off-guard. He held the book under his shoulder a little less tightly. “I heard about you-” He swallowed. “I know who you are. I know what you’ve done.”

She glanced downward with a chuckle. “So you have. What did Nyx tell you?”

“You beat us when no one else could.” His eyes glistened. “You defeated humanity.”

“No, she doesn’t understand-” Axla hurried to defend herself with exasperation. “I love you! I love your people. I wasn’t trying to defeat your people, I was trying to bring us together!” 

“Is that what you did?” 

Axla felt the reassuring grip of the unseen Axillis on her right shoulder from behind, but it didn’t seem like Miles saw her. The Goddess’ firm grip filled her with light. 

Light that dispelled the confusion. 

Light that allowed her to see clearly.

“I was forced to take control of an invasion I hated.” She nodded, her voice resigned. “I could’ve ended it all, but I was bitter. I thought it unjust and unfair for humanity to put me in such a position, so I started allowing things I never would’ve before… I started doing things that I hated, because it appeased the Empire. It made my superiors happy.”

After a few moments of silence, Miles made a quiet remark. “-And it made you miserable.”

She met Miles’ searching blue eyes. “I didn't think so at first, but...” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know if I brought our people together but I wanted to. I know that I did. I still do.” She put a claw over her chest. The words flowed from her lips faster than she could filter them. “I’m sorry I pulled your Assignment. I know you and the Flight Chief care about one another. I’m sorry I’m forcing myself on you, but I need you. I want to finish bringing our people together, and I can’t do it without your help.” 

Miles’ mouth hung open. “I-” he blinked, and swallowed, before setting the book under his arm down on the bed. “I can’t agree to that…” He took a step toward her. His eyes narrowed with determination as he finished the thought. “…unless you promise that you'll find Rax another mate. It isn’t fair to her.”

Axla didn’t react for a few seconds. “Of course!” She nearly laughed. “It would be trivial to appeal to the Commission and get her a choice male!”

“Good, good.” He tried to smile, but he still didn’t quite manage it. 

Both of them stood there in silence, neither knowing what to say next. The air-recycling system whirred through a vent overhead.

Finally, Miles turned his head, looking up at her with fear and anticipation, but also with that recognizable spark of curiosity. “So, if we’re going to be together…” His coming question was sheepish. “What’s Assignment like?” 

“You’ll continue to do much of the same, without the enforced routines. You’ll live at home with me, taking care of our children, and doing whatsoever else your heart desires.” Axla stood straight. What she was about to do was technically against the rules.

She took Miles’ hands in hers, nearly unphased by the light scent of Rax on him. “I’ll lead the household, protecting you and our future children. I will see to it that you are safe, loved, and valued above all of my other duties.” 

“I’m scared. I don’t want to do something wrong,” he admitted.

Axla pulled him close. “That’s normal, but-” Her heart swelled with wonderful anticipation. “-I will be here for you, my mate. Mates are bound together, they support one another through all of life’s challenges. When you are hurt, I will feel it as if I was the one who suffered injury…”

His hands quivered in hers and he didn’t smell like her yet, but this felt right. She knew it.

“…And when you feel joy, I will rejoice with you.” Axla’s smile widened. “I want to kiss you.”

He blinked. “You’ll get a mate for Rax, right?” He looked around, as if to make sure no one was watching his moment of vulnerability.

It was okay that he felt vulnerable. It made Axla’s heart race that much faster.

“Of course.” Her tail curled around him, and she gently ran a talon along his soft cheek. The reddening skin was burning with heat. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-okay.” 

With that, she crooked her snout downward and closed her eyes. The tough scales of her hardened maw made contact with his delicate lips. 

As quickly as their lips made contact, Miles pulled away. 

Axla opened her eyes to see that her and Miles were back in her quarters on the Administrator’s flagship, sometime in the future. 

Except this future felt different than the last.

“Come on Axy, I’ve been waiting for you all day!” The matured man laughed with jovial excitement, despite his deeper voice. He pulled her forward by her claws. “I want to show you something.” 

Like before, the Earth’s surface through the holodisplay behind him was covered in a denser web of lights. This time, multiple space-elevators rose above the oceans of the Earth to connect to strange, curved orbital platforms.

“I promise we can do all the kissing we want in just a second,” Miles glanced over his shoulder with a smile. His eyes glowed with sincere affection.

Axla returned the smile. She shuffled forward as Miles pulled her down the closest hallway connected to their ornate living room. 

“Dragging your feet now that you’re an Admiral?” Miles chuckled as they emerged from the arched hall into his dome-shaped lab.  

Like his father’s lab on the flagship, it was of custom design, but it lacked the same white, sterile feeling and had less equipment than Adrian’s. Miles' special workplace was made of the same gray alloy as the rest of their quarters. There were plenty of standing holodisplays on easels to work on, with sturdy wooden tables arranged at the edges of the room. Each table had a different set of laboratory and engineering equipment, with everything from a small metal 3D printer, to a solder and oscilliscope.

What caught Axla's attention was the curved holodisplay on the ceiling. The brilliant screen formed a projected window to the stars. The display switched through different deep-field images of stars, nebulae, and galaxies.

“I know, I can stare up there for hours. It inspires me to see what God, Axillis, whatever you want to call him-- has given us.” He moved his hands to sandwich just one of her claws between them. He rubbed at her lovingly.

“What were you going to show me?” She pulled her eyes from the display above, and down to him.

“I’m glad you asked, honey.” Miles ran up to a flat holodisplay. The clear glass displayed a screen of calculations and figures. He rolled it toward them on its caster wheels. “The swarm intelligence robots constructing the orbital ring have to use a certain amount of fuel to combat the Earth’s constant gravitational pull, right? More importantly, it takes them more time.”

“Right…” Axla blinked. The planetary ring had to be in the beginning stages, given the hand-full of disconnected orbital platforms she saw.

“Well, what can we already do with gravity?” He extending his hands in anticipation, before kicking against the floor-plating at his feet. “Ah?” he encouraged, kicking it again.

“We have gravitational plating to simulate it across short distances.”

“Exactly!” He pointed to her. “The Empire has had gravitational plating for centuries. You guys had it before we had the printing press!” His voice was alive with excitement and enthusiasm. He pushed back his slicked-back hair with a hand. “In theory, we can reverse the polarization to cancel out an existing gravitational field. Like two opposite waves colliding-” he motioned a peak and a trough running into each other with his hands, his two hands going flat against each other. “-so why don’t we? We could reduce a gravitational field’s effects on drones, or even vessels!”

“The energy costs are massive because of inefficiencies in the technology. It’s only suggested as an emergency measure when a vessel is caught in the gravitational field of a heavenly body with no thrusters, but plenty of power.”

“Exactly, but I did the math-” he tapped on the board. “-with the drone-chargers already on the orbital ring platforms, we could install a grav-plating oscillator on the constructors and reduce the effect of Earth’s gravity on each drone by seventy percent! They would need to charge thirty percent more often, but they would work twice as fast!

“Most impressive.” Axla’s eyes darted across the advanced differential equations and general relativity calculations. She was schooled in math and the sciences, as any high-born woman was, but she didn’t immediately recognize each equation and formula. 

“This will reduce the total construction time from ten to just seven years.” Miles walked up to Axla’s side, turning around to look at the board with her. He leaned into her side without hesitation. “Something so small, and it’ll make such a big difference,” he mumbled. His eyes danced across the board, entranced by the work as if it was as novel to him as it was to her. 

“Mommy!” 

Axla and Miles turned around. 

A human boy, no more than four years old, ran from the hallway. Wearing a white and red-striped jumpsuit, he leapt upward to wrap his little arms around the Admiral's massive legs.

His slim features and pale skin reminded her of his father. Strands of red colored his neat, brown hair, as one the few indicators of having a Daxy mother. 

His little hands clung tightly to the pant-leg of Axla’s three-star navy uniform. Her golden badge on her breast depicted a planet with three claws behind it, and an imperial cruiser in front of it.   

“Adrian has been waiting all day for you to come home.” Miles chuckled, looking down at him. “Isn’t that right, buddy?”

The child pressed his cheeks into Axla’s shins, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he said meekly, his voice muffled by the fabric.

Axla’s heart fluttered at the boy’s grasp on her, except this time, her joy wasn’t tainted.

“Want me to show you what I showed mommy, Adrian?” Miles stepped away from the board, kneeling down at Axla’s feet to be right beside his son. “It’s really cool.”

Little Adrian pulled his face from his mother’s pant leg, but still held to her tightly. “Yes!” He shook with happiness. “Will you show me the stars again?”

“Not quite. It’s something Mommy and Daddy worked on together.” He patted the metal plating in invitation to Adrian and Axla to lay down on the ground. “I can show you with the big screen on the roof!”

“A baby sister? I'm getting another sister!" 

“Actually-” Miles stuttered. He glanced up at Axla, his eyes expressing amusement while silently pleading for help. 

Axla raised her brow, a subtle smile playing at her features. Where'd he get this idea from?

“Like big-sis Axy?” The precious child continued with his hypothesis. He pouted. “Why didn’t you ask what I wanted? I want a brother, I already have a sister!"

Axla finally intervened, leaning down to gently pick up her son in her claws. “When you grow up and find a woman to take care of you like I take care of your father, then you and her will get to make decisions like that, okay?” The natural, and innate love she had for her son made a tender response effortless. “Your father wants to show you what we’re building with his robots.”

“My baby sister will be a robot?” Adrian Jr. gasped.

"Not quite." Axla chuckled, and extended their son to him. “Come on, let's see.”

Miles took Adrian from her, grunting as he hefted the child into his arms. He lied on the floor plating.
 
As Axla joined him and their son, she wrapped the two of them up in her loving and protective arms. She squeezed them to her, as if afraid that they would disappear. This close together on the metallic floor, they shared their warmth.

“Computer-” Miles smiled and relaxed in the confident grip of his mate. “-display OR-Project 3D Rendering on the ceiling display. Most recent version. Presentation mode.”

The ceiling of stars disappeared, and in its place, a rendering of a finished orbital ring about Earth appeared. A network of drones and shuttles flew between the planet and the glowing ring. 

The camera passed under and around the rendered ring, showing off all of its intricate construction and the bright lights of its many cities.

“Whoa… you’re building that.” Adrian was awe-struck. “It’s huge!” 

“Mommy and Daddy are doing it with the help of a lot of friends.” Miles shut his eyes, exhaling deeply as he finally let himself rest. 

Axla’s tail curled around his back in concern. How long has he been working?

“We’re stronger…” Miles blinked, suddenly struggling to stay awake. He turned to his side, his eyes resting on Axla, with their child between them. “We’re stronger together.”

The two most important people in Axla’s life fell asleep together. Though she was the only one awake, she didn’t feel close to alone. 

Admiral Braxys held her beloved family close.

I will never let you go. 

She smiled, and let her own eyes drift shut.

Chapter Text

Axla opened her eyes. She lay alone on the hard concrete in the middle of the endless desert, dressed in her familiar suit of power armor. 

A gust of wind blew over the dunes, and her dark-blue cape fluttered. Grains of sand flew up into the air, and through her parted claws. 

Six full pheromone syringes were stuck to the mag-locks on her breastplate. 

She squeezed at the open air, a blank expression on her maw. Tears flowed freely from both eyes as she curled up into a ball on the floor.

“Please,” she muttered weakly. “Axillis, bring them back.”

How could she be so cruel?

“Please!” She rolled onto her back. “Bring my family back!” 

Axillis is a monster. 

“Please! Where are you!” Her cry echoed off of the rising mounds of sand closing her in. “I can’t live without them!” 

Her chest burned, searing her with an unquenchable agony.

“Let me die then. Just kill me.” She rose to her wobbly knees. With her sharp talons, she gripped at her own maw, clawing at her hardened scales. “Kill me!”

The only reply was the howling of the wind. 

Axla rolled off of the concrete and into the sand. She collapsed into a heap and let the desert sands soak up her tears.

This wasn’t Miles’ fault. It wasn’t Nyx’s fault. It wasn’t even Rax’s fault.

It was her fault.

Her soul-mate, the one Axillis had created just for her, had been dangled before her and then ripped away.

Miles will never be mine.

Axla pushed herself up, slowly settling back onto her knees. She sunk a few inches into the shifting red sands, before craning her head back to look at the sky.

It was illuminated, but the red and blue stars were gone. Axillis was gone. 

The goddess had come merely to torture her with what could never be, then abandon her.

Axla took a syringe from her breastplate. It was too painful to be awake. This had to end, even if it meant getting put to sleep by her own pheromones.

She lifted the syringe up to the base of her neck, stopping as she caught her reflection in the glass. She watched her own pained expression, her tear-stained cheeks, and her deep-red eyes.

I deserve this.

Axla clenched her teeth to the point of pain. Her talons clinked against the glass as her claws shook. 

I wanted a pet, not a mate.

Another torrential gust of wind blew across the dunes.

I destroyed his soul.

“Agh!” The Colonel fumbled to her feet. 

With all of her strength, she threw the pheromone syringe against the concrete. The glass shattered, staining the cracked stone dark with the milky fluid. Some of it splashed against the toes of her unarmored feet.

Axla thought of Miles’ smile as he fell asleep in her arms, their child between them. 

She could’ve earned his trust, but to her, what made him lovely had been a problem to be solved.

The wind whipped a flurry of sand up in every direction. Axla could barely see past arms-length in the middle of the solid sandstorm.

She roared as she dug her talons into her own armor. She clawed the sparkling gold engravings as she ripped the other syringes from her breastplate, throwing them to the ground before crushing them under her heel. 

She lifted her three-toed foot and the hardened, red scales were soaked in her own pheromones. Shards of glass stuck to her heel, with drops of her own blood mixing with the quickly-evaporating mess of pheromones.

Axla didn’t even register the discomfort. 

She saw the faces of hundreds of soldiers and generals she had injected for information. She shut her eyes, but they wouldn’t leave. 

How did she remember her victims so perfectly? 

The Colonel dropped to her knees, and looked up at the darkened sky.

She thought of Miles clinging to her bleeding snout as she ran with him in her arms. “Don’t let me go,” he had said. 

His desperate grasp in Bryce Canyon could never match the wonderful intimacy of him just leaning against her.

Rax did deserve Miles. All she deserved was to suffer.

I deserve to suffer.

Craning her neck as far back as it would go, her pointed frills stood on end. She raised a talon to her throat, hissing through her teeth as she slowly pressed to the soft red scales.

End the nightmare. 

“Peace, child.” Two large claws reached out from the storm of sand, seizing both of her arms from behind. 

At the powerful voice of Axillis, the sandstorm ceased. Each grain darkening the sky fell back to the desert in reverent obedience.

“Things are not as grim as they seem.”

“Why?” Axla’s voice was weak. She didn’t resist the grasp of Axillis, her eyes glazing over. “Why did you show me what I can’t have?”

“Oh, my daughter.” Her rebuke was gentle. “I came to kill the part of you that must die, but you…” Axillis folded her talons around Axla’s smaller claws. “…you must live. Your mission is not complete.”

“I don’t understand.” The Colonel barely had the energy to speak. “I failed! I destroyed my own mate!” She stomped contemptuously against the shattered remains of her pheromone darts. “I cannot comprehend the pain that he must feel right now. He is chemically bound to me, but deprived of my presence!”

“The soul is eternal and cannot be extinguished, not even by the most potent injection. It can only be dimmed.” The ten-foot, radiant goddess stood once more. She let go of Axla. “Rise, daughter. There is something else you must see”

With hesitance, Axla got back to her feet, facing Axillis. She ignored the pain of the glass shards still sticking in her feet. 

“Miles was not alone.” Axillis’ tail wrapped about Axla’s waist. “And neither are you.” 

With a flick of the tail, Axla was turned about. In a blink, she was now in the familiar bowels of the Echo’s engineering deck. 

The fusion reactor at the center of the ovalesque deck hummed gently at her side. The walls of gray alloy were illuminated by yellow lights in the floor and in the ceiling. Liquid helium hissed through tubes and pipes overhead.

Miles’ unconscious body was splayed out over a table about ten feet away. 

Finn stood over his friend, one hand in the pocket of his winter coat, and the other pressed to Miles’ jugular. His eyes widened, and the exhaustion plaguing his features vanishing in an instant. 

“What is this?” Axla asked, mouth parted in confusion.

“The consequences of the path you chose.” Axillis’ voice was pained. She gripped tightly to the Colonel’s shoulder from behind. “Watch carefully. There is something you have overlooked that you must consider to complete your mission.”

“I’m not getting a pulse!” Finn cried up at the ceiling. “Miles’ heart just stopped!” 

In an instant, a clamor of heavy footfalls shook the deck above.

Finn shed his coat, and climbed atop the worktable to straddle Miles’ waist. The scruffy human leaned over him, grabbing at his armor plating desperately with his shaking fingers. “Hold on buddy, hold on…” 

Axla stared at the unfolding scene in silence. 

Finn undid the latches holding the composite armor together at his shoulders and at his waist, but none of the plates came free from the exosuit beneath. Finn’s untrimmed finger nails scratched uselessly against the carbon fiber trimming of his suit. “Ah! I can’t get this shit off!”

“Off of him, Finn!” Rax dashed past the Colonel and Axillis without even glancing at the observers. The Flight Chief had leapt from the lowering cargo-lift at the far-side of the deck, not even waiting for it to reach the ground.

Finn looked up.  

Rax leapt onto the table as Finn fell off. Her massive knees rested on either side of Miles’ limp form. “No, no, no-” her eyes widened in horror. “No!” Her quiet panic turned to rage. 

“I don’t know how to-”

“Agh!” Rax jammed her talons under the seams at his shoulders. With a roar, she pried his breastplate right off of him, shearing the bolts which fastened it to the exosuit. 

Finn paced back and forth. “The ketamine was too much! I should’ve known! I should’ve-”

“Not now!” Rax hissed. 

Axla’s maw gaped.

My mate is dying.

“Watch.” Axillis spoke softly. “This isn’t a punishment, daughter. This is a lesson.”

Rax twisted the arms of the exosuit firmly from their mechanical sockets, pulling them off of Miles’ limbs with ease. 

Axla was enthralled by Rax’s struggle. 

She took hold of the motorized metal cage which surrounded his upper-body. Metal groaned, pneumatics hissed and servos clicked as she curled both arms upward, putting all of her strength into ripping the suit up and off of the human. Her large biceps strained her blue flight suit as she grit her teeth with exertion.

Finn collapsed against a nearby table, watching Rax’s efforts helplessly.  

“Ah!” The Chief pulled the top half of Miles’ exo-suit right from the bottom half, leaving two broken metal joints where they had been fastened together. She threw the suit to the side, the metal cage clanging against the deck-plating. 

Axla clenched her fists. Her mouth parted, as if to give encouragement, but no words came. 

“No, no, no!” Only one of Rax’s large claws was necessary to give Miles CPR. With blubbering desperation, she pressed against his chest in regular intervals. 

“Don’t die on me!” Rax’s stoic demeanor evaporated. 

Miles’ whole body shook with each of Rax’s compressions. 

“Don’t leave me, Miles” The scales of her face flushed a deep purple. “You can’t leave me!”

Miles’ sickly skin glistened with sweat in the light of the deck. His arms dangled uselessly from the table.

“Come back to me-” Rax cried, her whole body shuddering. “Please, come back!”

Rax leaned down and closed her eyes after another round of compressions. She sealed the end of her maw around his lips, and breathed into him. 

Finn stopped watching and instead shuffled to the head of the table. He pressed his fingers into Miles’ jugular as Rax put another breath into him. “Still nothing. More!” His expression hardened as his fear was replaced by practiced determination.

Rax withdrew her lips, but kept her snout close to Miles’ face as she resumed compressions. She pressed to Miles’ heart with one powerful hand, and cradled his head with the other.

Axla could barely hear Rax’s affectionate, pleading tittering. 

“I’ll always protect you…” Rax whimpered, shaking with each word. “I want to love you, and keep you safe, and- and-” she sniffled. She switched from English to her native, high-born tongue. “Xia pa. Axi, xia pa.” 

“More breaths!” Finn said.

Rax leaned down to exhale into Miles’ mouth again. She held his face in both claws, the act looking more like a passionate kiss than a resuscitation strategy.  

Finn’s eyes immediately brightened. “I feel something.” 

Rax detached her lips from Miles and turned an ear-hole to his parted mouth. “He’s breathing!” 

Finn exhaled, and the tension visibly drained from his lanky form. “His pulse is weak, but it’s there. I’m going to make sure we have epinephrine, just in case.” He walked to the other side of the deck, toward a doctor’s bag on the floor.

Rax rolled off of the table, and slumped against it. She breathed heavily, her whole body weighed by exhaustion as she lowered to the ground. She took Miles’ dangling hand, and enclosed it in her claws. She kissed it, and pressed it close to her cheek as she mumbled incoherent high-born.

Axla’s tail hung limp. “She is a true mate to him.” 

“My daughters will not hate their own blood.” Axillis shifted from behind her, to the Colonel’s left side. “You and Rax are not rivals. In fact, you are closer allies than you could know.”

Rax kept peppering his limp hand in small kisses. 

“My mission isn’t to take Miles, is it?” Axla frowned, turning to face the ethereal goddess beside her. “It never was.” 

A small grin perked at the edges of Axillis’ maw. She nodded, her tone somber. “Miles was only your reward, my exemplar.” 

“And now you have given him to another.” Axla slackened under the weight of the realization. Her eyes were unblinking, and her tail was frozen in place. “She corrected my error. She deserves him.”

“Rax and Miles are worthy of each other, but...” Axillis smiled brightly. “You misunderstand me. I am not here to tell you that you cannot have him. This intervention is about misplaced priorities.”

Axla’s voice was low. “What do you mean?” Not another riddle.

Axillis walked past Axla in silence. The frills of the ethereal being nearly touched the ceiling of the Echo’s compartment. “It is not a riddle. Think, exemplar.” She stepped up to the table where Miles lay prone. 

Finn stood over Miles now, a small syringe of adrenaline held between his fingers as he watched his friend. 

Axillis lowered to one knee beside the two men. She put one of her hands on Finn’s back, and stroked the other across Miles’ forehead. Her touch was delicate and gentle. “It is not about one man-” She glanced down at Miles, then moved her eyes to Finn. “-it is about them all.”

Axla’s eyes widened. “My mission is to finish humanity’s induction.”

The Goddess nodded with satisfaction. “I have not only called you my daughter, but as my exemplar.” Her slit-eyes watched Miles and Finn with maternal affection, before flicking up to the Colonel. “Uniting humanity with your sisters was your mission from the beginning.” Axillis brushed a few strands of Miles’ hair from his closed eyes. “-But you are not the only one who has been prepared.”

The Colonel clenched her fists. “Why haven’t I succeeded?” 

“Only now have you understood that a mate is a privilege, and not something you are owed.” Axillis stood back to her full height, withdrawing her claws from Miles and Finn. “Do you feel that you and your sisters of the Earth Administration deserve the men of Zion?” 

Axla was still. She listened to the monotone hum of the Echo’s fusion reactor. “No,” she said finally. “I told Nyx that I’d bathe Zion in pheromones…” She pointed at herself, pressing her talon into her flesh to the point of pain. “I told her that I would massacre as many of their females as I had to, just to make a point!”

Neither Rax nor Finn noticed Axla.

“You are glad that they have been kept from you.” Axillis rounded the table, and stepped past the huddled Rax. “Now you are prepared.”

“I don’t know if I am.” Axla shuddered. She avoided the glowing eyes of her Great Mother. “I’ve already done so much wrong. How do I prevent myself from repeating my errors? This is too important, and too many lives are at stake for my pride to interfere.”

“Indeed, this errand is of upmost importance.” Axillis took a step to the side. “This time you will not be alone.” She gestured toward Rax. 

“Chief Fesyx? She hates me— she should hate me!” The Colonel extended both arms toward the Flight Chief, exasperated. “How could I hope to get her assistance?”

“Until you saw who she really was, you reciprocated that hatred.” Axillis sounded almost amused. “Look at how quickly that changed.”

“What about Miles? Will I not get another chance?”

Axillis’ response was decisive and sharp. “I'm afraid that matter is his decision.” 

“Why the uncertainty?” Axla huffed.

The goddess pressed a hand to the Colonel’s chest. "He is no longer yours by right, and that is all you must know."

Axla sighed. She leaned up against the cylindrical shielding of the ship’s vibrating reactor, and looked up at Rax and Miles.

The blue Daxy's chest rose and fell in regular rhythms as she succumbed to sleep at the bedside of her mate.

“I understand." The Colonel's voice was quiet. Cold air wafted up from an insulated helium pipe at her feet. "Zion is my mission."

"Remember that I give no gift that my daughters are not prepared to receive." Axillis' glowing eyes peered into her from above. “My exemplar cannot think of herself-” 

“-But that makes her free to do what is right, instead of what she desires.” Axla finally stood straight.

“Your wisdom makes you choice among all your sisters.” Axillis’ face illuminated with sincere pride. “Humanity is very special, and that is why I sent you; you are a very special daughter.”

Axla pursed her lips. Her gratitude was reverent. "I will not fail you.”

“No, you will not.” Axillis spoke with warm confidence. Without warning, she bent down to wrap up her mortal daughter in her strong arms. “It is time to go.”

Axla felt weightless as the lights of the engineering deck grew brighter, and brighter. She eyed Rax, Miles, and Finn at the table across the deck.

Rax had fallen asleep beside her mate, still holding Miles’ limp hand between her claw and her cheek. Eventually, the hazy light consumed the distant trio. 

As the radiant fog closed in on Axillis and Axla, the Colonel returned the embrace of the goddess and shut her eyes. A final assurance echoed within Axla’s mind as she was lifted elsewhere. 

“You are ready.” 

Chapter Text

You clench your teeth at the loud hiss of pneumatics. 

The cargo ramp up and into the Echo slowly lowers to the ground. The solid granite walls and the glossed marble floors of the underground hangar reflected the sound of the Echo’s mechanical workings.

The gray ceramic-plating on the underside of your sleek corvette was seared black where Adrian and Nyx had made a hasty re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere.

That’s definitely out of spec.

At least the attached weapons, delicate wings, and the scram-jet sub-sytem look undamaged. The thirty-foot barrel of the primary railgun juts out from under the center of the vessel, and ahead of the angular cockpit like the point of a bayonet.

The lowering ramp touches the ground with a click as it locks into place. The dim interior of the engineering deck before you was lit far less intensely than the led-bathed hangar. 

“Miles-” Finn, your lanky friend, emerges from the darkness of the ship. His dark, squinted eyes peer down at you from the top of the ramp. “Your pops is already waiting for you.” He sounds sincerely relieved. “I thought you’d never show up, and I’d end up talking to the Prophet instead.”

“-And I thought you were a Neanderthal coming out of his cave.” You chuckle, stepping onto the brushed alloy. “Why would I not come?”

 He feigns a smile at your joke. “What, you don’t like the beard?” He scratches at the black scruff covering his sharp jaw, and the gaunt of his cheeks. “You haven’t left your whiteboard in the last three days.” He reaches out, pushing his fingers into your stomach with a grimace. “Have you even eaten anything?”

“Says the meth-head.” 

His playful smile falters at that. He averts his gaze from you with uncharacteristic shame. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Finn reaches into his pocket to retrieve an orange pill bottle. “When I was captured outside of Vegas, I lost all of my meds…” He twirls the bottle between his fingers with practiced skill, his eyes entranced by the tumbling orange capsules inside. “When Axla set me and Alice up, she gave me one bottle with sixty capsules.”

Your mouth parts. “When will you run out?”

“I’m stretching it out as much as I can, trying to taper instead of going cold-turkey, but-” His fingers shake with a tremor, and the bottle slips out of his hand. “Shit!”

You reach out to catch it in your own hand. You lift the bottle back up to eye-level, and give it a slight shake. 

“Ah-” It takes Finn a second to peel his eyes away from his quivering hand. He grips it with his other hand, trying to force it still. “I’ve got about twenty days. Maybe twenty five if I got aggressive with the taper.”

You hand the bottle back to him, and he takes hold if it gratefully. 

His fingernails turn white at his iron-grip on the remaining medication. 

“Hopefully we’ll be in Zion by then.” You offer a gentle smile, but it falters. “I’m assuming methamphetamine withdrawal is no fun.”

“It wouldn’t be for me. My dose is barely medical. I can’t believe that bitch actually prescribed me ninety milligrams a day back on O-9.” He shakes his head. “Whatever, you’ve got other things to worry about. I’ve got a few ideas about my situation, but-” he looks past your shoulder at the open steel doors to the hangar. “-just come meet me in the medbay after you’re done talking to Jesus-man.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to start making up nicknames for everyone too.” 

He scoffs. “Hey, Rax stole that from me. That used to be my thing.”

You roll your eyes. “No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

“Okay, what was your nickname for me?”
 
“Screw you.” Finn pushes past you as he fights down a smile. His white, slip-on shoes squeak as he steps down the ramp and onto level ground. “Tell Jesus-man I said, ‘Hi!’”

“I hope your nickname for me wasn’t that terrible.” You turn around to call back to him as he continues out of the hangar. “You never knew her, but if Reesa was here, she’d slap you upside the head for that!”

Without turning back, he raises both middle fingers at you.

Once he’s gone, you turn back up the ramp. “’Jesus-man’,” you repeat under your breath with a shake of the head. With a few more steps, you walk up and into the engineering deck of the Echo.

The fusion reactor is silent and dark, with redundant hydrogen fuel-cells powering the systems as-needed. It was strange for your ship to sound so still. 

You step over an insulted tube a few inches across. One end of the accordion hose is already fixed to the base of the cylindrical reactor, ready to siphon away your poor ship’s store of hydrogen when the time came. 

You walk to the cargo lift on the starboard side. The solid platform shifts under the new weight, and you swipe your hand over a small interface pad. 

The platform raises up with a whir, and you don’t even falter at the sudden acceleration.

“There you are!” You hear your father before the lift has even reached the deck above. “You just missed Finn— he was in the medbay, trying to find some medication.”

“I caught him on the way out.” You return your father’s expression. “He didn’t find it, did he?”

“I don’t think so, but he didn’t tell me very much.” Your father’s gold-framed AR glasses are perched on the end of his nose. The small screens cast his face is subtle blue light. “Depending on what he needs, I might be able to synthesize it here—” he raises a cautionary hand. “—if necessary, of course.”

You step off of the lift platform as it locks into place on the main deck. “You could do that?”

The main hologram at the center of the circular CIC is already on, but instead of nice and clean graphics, it displays a wall of text and numbers. 

“Well, chemistry isn’t my specialty, but…” his voice trails off. “Oh, sorry about this.” He shifts a little, standing between you and the mess of networking.

“You’re trying to patch the Echo into the system here?”

“We need to send data securely between us and Zion.” He taps at one of the many glass terminals surrounding the hologram. He scrolls through the hundreds of lines of code and command returns. “The NEC still has a hard-line connection to Bountiful, but-”

“We still have to worry about the Echo’s network security.” You fold your arms. 

“Yes. Unfortunately for us, Doctor Alyxasi and the rest of your team made the Echo’s back-end quite secure.”

“You knew her?” You lean forward to peek at the screen your father is working on. 

“Yes, I knew your whole team— not personally, but-” He smiles brightly. “When I was getting my Ph.D, my father called me nearly every day to check on my progress. The Echo was the culmination of your studies.” 

“And you didn’t want to miss it.” You step backward and lean up against the slight curvature of the wall behind you. The light of the holographic projection in the center of the room casts a soft shadow behind Doctor Penn. “Couldn’t have called?” 

Your voice is light, but your father’s isn’t.

“I could’ve-” He inhales deeply, his hands dragging heavily across the terminal. “-but I didn’t. For the longest time, I told myself that it would only cause you and Nyx more pain.” 

You frown. “In a strange way, I understand. Whenever Rax and I have a disagreement we always seem to put off dealing with it.” You bend your knee ninety-degrees and raise your foot to steady yourself against the wall behind you. “I think it’s just in our nature.”

Your father grumbles, as if you mentioned the name of someone he didn’t like. “’The natural man’…” 

“What?”

“I guess you didn’t have your scriptures on Orphan-9.” Your father glances over his shoulder, and recites a passage without missing a beat. “’For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man…’” He smiles as he watches your reaction carefully. His expression falters as he continues, the weight of his own words pressing down on him with each word. "...unless he putteth off the natural man 'and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and become as a child; submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit... even as a child submits to his father.'" As he finishes reciting the scripture, it's seemingly affected him more than you. He glances down in the still, reverent silence.

You decide to break it. "All of that sounds like it's easier said than done.” You exhale heavily through taut lips and fold your arms. “I probably wouldn’t have had time to read them anyways.”

“No-” He shakes his head, and points at you over his shoulder without turning around. “For the word of God, you make time— trust me. It pays off.” 

Your father hits the ‘reset’ button in the upper-left corner of the terminal, and the hologram in the CIC goes dark. His shadow no longer stretches toward you from the center of the room, with the only lighting being that of the LED’s directly overhead.

“You would’ve really liked Reesa.” The edges of your lip twitch, playing at a smile. “She quoted scriptures all the time, but-” Your wandering gaze gets lost in the grain of the brushed alloy at your feet. “-she would give the citation right after, like it was a research paper, or something.” 

“The Lord kept you in good hands.” Your father is reverent. “Your friend has received her reward, Son.”

‘I know’ is what you want to say, but you can’t muster the words. You shut your eyes. You feel the darkness of your vision, and then the light, and then… 

Your mouth parts, yet it takes a few moments for you to speak. “I saw incredible things things on that ketamine.” 

“You still haven’t made sense of it yet?” He finishes your thought for you. With another press of a button, the hologram lights up once more. The blue haze clarifies as grids of laser diodes switch on and off beneath a concave mosaic of lenses. “Sometimes, that’s the point.” Your father steps back from the hologram to join you at your side. “Now we wait for Shepard. He should be letting us into their network now so we can share real data.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. My vision isn’t supposed to make sense?”

“God works only by the faith of His children. He will always require it, in one way or another.”

“Why?” you sigh. “I feel like I’d be more useful to Him if I understood exactly what He needed from me.”

“We all feel that way from time to time…” Your father smiles brightly, but his eyes are weighed by inexplicable sadness. “We have to trust that God knows us better than we know ourselves.”

“So let Him be the judge?”

He nods. “Takes a lot of weight off our shoulders when we let Him worry about it.”

The fish-eye cameras in the ceiling click. The infrared sensors light up with red indicator LED’s. 

“Am I coming through?” The dignified voice of President Shepard precedes his glowing form. With a blink of the diode arrays, he appears in the blue glow of uni-color light. 

The cameras in the ceiling angle toward you and your father.

Your father quickly runs back to his terminal. “We’ve got you! Image is resolving now.” Your father grips to the side of the glass slate. He squints critically, and adjusts a few settings.

Shepard’s hazy form sharpens until it looked as if he was standing there with you, plus the hologram’s luminous glow. “Excellent.” His voice sounds pitch-shifted by the acoustics of the circular CIC. He looks between you and your father. “Blessed be the name of the Lord; it is good to see you two back together.

“We’re only missing the girls now.” Your father projects gladness, yet he has trouble matching the sincere gratitude of the Prophet. 

“Indeed.” Shepard’s dark suit is modest, but it fits snugly around his broad shoulders. His middle-aged form has clearly been built and hardened through conflict. His circular contacts glow a light blue as his silvery eyes turn to you. “How is Finn?”

“He’s good-” you hesitate. “Well, he’s Finn; he has his issues, but he’s with us and he’s safe.”

“We have all been preserved by the hand of the Lord, nevertheless— the forces of darkness gnash their teeth as we speak.” The Prophet shifts uncomfortably. “We’ve heard some chatter through the World Bridge that is truly disturbing.”

Your chest tightens at seeing Shepard’s worry.

“We’ve picked up on high-security communications from the Homeworld of the Daxy Empire itself. They started yesterday, and have been non-stop since—” he puts a foot forward. “Brethren, we have not seen this frequency of messages since the end of the Induction War.”

“What could it be, President?” Your father lets go of the terminal, his back straight. 

“Many things have occurred in the past week. The Assignment Algorithm was disrupted by the Freemen, though the Earth Administration is working on resolving the issue; you and the Retrieval unit managed to nearly kill Colonel Braxys, but we’ve heard that her health has steadily improved.”

“That is a lot— enough for the Homeworld to take notice?” 

“Anything on its own? No.” The President grips his chin in thought with his prosthetic hand. “From what we do know about the perception of Humanity on the other side of the Bridge, the elite of the Empire, and perhaps even the Empress herself, are paying close attention to Earth. Our fifty-fifty gender ratio was enough on its own to garner interest, but the story of humanity’s induction has become something of a cultural phenomenon.”

Your father shifts uncomfortably. “So what does any of this mean? What if the Empire believes that we merit special interest?” He turns his platinum collar about his neck.

“We were hoping you would know something as the Administrator’s mate.” Shepard sighs, his sagging eyes moving off of your father. “Despite all the chatter, the only place we’ve seen changes in Fleet movements is Europe. Paris has been the epicenter of movements in troops, civilians, and supplies, spanning the continent and extending from Madrid to Stockholm.” Shepard’s contact glows brighter, and beside him, a map of Europe appears. Little dots move back and forth between the four mega-cities covering most of Europe. “Watch. The o’s represent registered civilians, x’s represent military or industrial transports.”

A swarm of civilian-dots emerges from Paris, and disburses across the continent to settle elsewhere. Soon after, the time-lapse depicts the inverse, with x’s coming from all over the Earth to converge on the city. 

The President gestures with his hand, and the animated map freezes. “We’ve only seen this kind of movement near the end of the War itself—they’d ship women off to Mars while they poured more troops into major population centers.”

“But that was to process the men and get control over infrastructure-” Your father squints at the map. “What are they doing now? Has there been resistance?”

“That’s what I do not understand; Paris is one of the most stable cities on the planet. Nearly all resistance was crushed during the riots of twenty thirty-one.”

The map of Europe instills you with inexplicable dread. Familiar words fill your mind as you stare at the holographic pixels.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

How could you fight an apparatus so large? Running from foxhole to foxhole to stay out of Axla’s grasp was hard enough. 

What did any of this have to do with you? 

“Miles-”

You look back at Shepard. His eyes are trembling and his tone is strained as if he doesn’t want to speak, yet he is urged on anyways. 

“Miles…” he begins again. “Satan has desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat.” His contacts are off, yet his eyes pierce you. 

Your father’s quiet voice wavers. “Isaac, what are you talking about?” His eyes dart between you and the Prophet. 

“I cannot deny the word of the Lord.” Shepard blinks, keeping his gaze upon you. “-But He has prayed the Father, that thy faith fail thee not.”

“I don’t understand,” you huff. “The Empire is doing something, clearly, but it’s not like we can do anything from this hole in the ground! The cryptic messaging isn’t helping, either.”

“The Lord has forbade me from speaking further. He requires you to put the pieces together yourself.” His staunch tone turns sincerely apologetic. “-But I’m sorry for bringing up the communications through the World Bridge. I had to see if your father knew anything.”

“I would tell you if I knew anything, Isaac.”

“Then perhaps you can assist with something else.” Shepard turns to your father. “Adrian, I’m sure Miles has told you that he sent us your research prior to his rescue of Finn, but we have yet to break the encryption.”

Adrian hunches over the terminal for support. He smiles wryly. “I’m not surprised. Mary was a prodigy.” He glances up at the image of the prophet. “It’s not my research, or my encryption; it’s all hers.” 

Shepard is silent. He crooks his head. “Are you implying-”

“When the Daxy came rampaging through our town, the source-code for the Caretaker was the only important thing to her-” mindful of you, he reaches over and ruffles your hair. “Next to you and your sister, of course.”

“I’d hoped our ‘excommunication’ stunt would’ve bought you more time.” Shepard’s form fades into a crackly blur, and reforms after a brief spike of interference. “I knew that Utah would not be safe forever, but…” His eyes widen, and his stare grows vacant. 

“So you weren’t actually exiled from Zion?” you ask the doctor at your side. “The Elders and the Archangels brought it up when I asked about you, but it just didn’t make sense to me.”

“It was an excuse for Shepard to hide us— he knew spies were in our midst, and I was not the Lord’s most popular General Authority.” Adrian chuckles dryly. “It did buy us more time once Axla started landing troops in the Salt Lake Valley, but-” Your father’s shoulders drop. His white shirt radiates light, even as the platinum collar around his neck appears strangely dull in the dim light of the Echo. “Mary didn’t finish it. She spoke of one last breakthrough that she was yet to make. I’ve spent the past nine years trying to recreate her work developing general AI, but it’s not my specialty, and it’s far beyond any of the Daxy’s AI research.”

“The Daxy have had space-flight for millenia.” You frown. “I know that she’s my mom, but how could she be ahead of the whole Empire?”

Shepard interjects. “From what we know, it’s willful ignorance. The Daxy are terrified of true Artificial Intelligence, and research in the field is strictly limited to those with special approval directly from the Empress.” He raises his brow at your father, his tone somewhere between surprised and impressed. “I do not know how you got away with research into general Artificial Intelligence up there. That isn’t just taboo, Adrian, it’s recklessly illegal.”

Your father shrugs. “I guess I got a lot of leeway.” He waves, dismissive. “In actuality, I was just working out the math, not building and testing any AI.”

That explains a lot. “Scientists from High Command designed the AI for the Echo, while we created everything else ourselves.” You hum. “I thought it was strange at the time, but I never looked into it. I guess I'm not a computer scientist.”

“No, you take after me.” Your father raises his finger to point at you with a cheeky smile. “You’ve got my eyes too.”

“The reason for their extreme caution has taken time to piece together. We’ve tried to send spies across the Bridge to learn more about the Empire, but it hasn’t been easy. Their imperialism is both highly fragmented, yet very centralized, all at once. The structure of their empire, and their disdain for Artificial Intelligence seems to have the same origin.” The concentric circles of Shepard’s contact dim. “Over twelve millenia ago, the Daxy inducted the other intelligent species on their homeworld.”

“The ‘Unification War’, right?” you ask. “They killed all of the females, enslaved the males.”

“Yes, but that isn’t the whole story-” Shepard interlocks his smoothly-actuating prosthetic hand with his regular hand. “After the war, many tribes and nations fought over the spoils thereof, and the whole planet was engulfed in brutal conflict. The most powerful of these tribes created a super-intelligent AI to stop the ceaseless violence and protect the men that were getting killed in the collateral.” 

“What went wrong? It must’ve been pretty bad to make research in the field illegal.”

“The AI was polarized against its creators by the endless bloodshed it was trained to stop, and concluded that the problem was the Daxy. It, or ‘she’, depending on who you ask, tried to protect the men of the planet by wiping out every last Daxy woman. The machine wished to take their place as conservator and partner for every man on the planet.” Shepard’s voice echoes off of the curved walls of your ship. He inhales deeply. “The Daxy united once more under the most prominent chieftess, only now it was a fight for survival. When they won, she became the first Empress over the united Daxy Empire, but only after the death of billions. The matter is considered sacred in their culture, and rarely discussed or written about.”

“So let me get this straight-” you squint, burying your face in your hand. “AI almost destroyed most of their species, but my mom—” you struggle to find the words. “—my mom tried to create an AI to gain the upperhand in our war? It seems like we should be just as afraid of AI as the Daxy are.”

“Your mother knew what she was dealing with,” your father responds. “She knew what limits to impose on her creation, and the specificity with which she defined the mission of the Caretaker was exacting. The Caretaker was created to be purely benevolent, and to not impose unrighteous dominion, but—” he takes a deep breath, the passion in his voice waning. “—I understand your skepticism. It is something that must be handled carefully.”

“In any case, it’s purely academic until you arrive in Zion.” Shepard cuts off Adrian before he can continue. “The brethren and I will seek further revelation from the Lord, now that we know that we have the source-code for the Caretaker.” Shepard glances between you and your father. “We will not be responsible for a runaway super-intelligence. Nevertheless, an AI wielded in wisdom could be the thing that ends the eventual annihilation of half of our species, and sets us free from the Empire.” 

Your father steps back from the terminals in the center of the CIC. “Once we arrive, I can hopefully help with that encryption. We’ll have to recreate the key, as the book which contained it was lost in Bryce Canyon.”

“The copy of Huckleberry Finn?” You blink. “I didn’t see an encryption key. The Empire probably has that book now. Is that going to-”

“Son…” Your father puts his hand on your shoulder. His voice is reassuring. “That key is useless to them without the source-code it protects, even if they could find it in there.” 

“Precisely-” Shepard puts a foot forward. “Miles, focus on getting here, and then we can discuss what to do with the Caretaker. I’ll keep an eye on whatever is going on in Europe in the meantime.”

“It might take longer than we originally anticipated, but—” your father grimaces. “We’ll get there somehow.” 

“I’m not worried.” Shepard’s smile is calm and sincere. “Adrian, it’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks, Isaac. It’s good to be back.” 

Shepard turns around and walks away. As his feet reach the perimeter of the hologram, it blinks and his image is gone, leaving you and your father alone in the Echo. 

You slowly pace across the deck in the new silence, running your hand along the glass of the terminals. Your mind is reeling. “You know, for all the time I’ve spent in this ship since I ran away, I’ve never realized how quiet it could be with the reactor off.”

Your father watches your absent-minded movements. “Almost too quiet, right?” He nods emphathetically. “I’ve lived on the flagship of the Earth fleet for the past nine years. It’s strange to not feel the vibration beneath my feet.” 

You look down at the perfectly still floor plating below you. The reactor. You tap the metal with your boots.

“Dad-” you look up. “I have an idea.”

Chapter Text

Matthias leaned back in his padded seat, across from the Huntress that captured him. It was probably the only comfortable thing in the small interview room, with Asyx’s own seat being built of the same cold metal as the table he had been chained to for the past hour.

All it took was one call to the Assignment Commission, and he belonged to her. After some due diligence, by order of the Administrator, of course. Asyx was still a Huntress, and he was a known operative of Zion, afterall.

Matt smiled, amused by the subtle genius of the clinical and sterile room. Its bright lights made his head throb, and the perpetual white glow reflecting from every surface made it hard to tell where the wall ended and where the ceiling began. 

The only source of warmth was the gentle waft of pheromones coming from Asyx, the nine-foot behemoth of a Daxy.

Two paintings were hung on the wall to his left. They were painted in a romantic style, except the colors blended together and fuzzed the line-work like an impressionistic, Daxian twist on a distinctly human style. 

The first depicted the final US President kneeling before Colonel Braxys, Administrator Paxi, and a purple-scaled member of the Admiralty Board he didn’t recognize. The setting was the littered floor of Congress, with a crowd of elite Daxy soldiers occupying what was once the most powerful legislature on Earth. 

The heroic framing of the piece depicted the dignified Braxys in a bright light from above, and the penitent President Marks basking in her light; the misguided male was repenting of impeding progress with his unconditional surrender. 

“Love that one— straight from the Homeworld. Done by one of the most popular artists to commemorate humanity’s induction.” The Huntress’ smile was audible. “Are you ready, Matthias?”

Matt’s eyes were still on the two paintings. “That isn’t how it happened,” he grumbled. His hands shook ever so slightly. 

A part of him thought that dropping his cigarettes in the snow was a mistake.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“President Marks did surrender on Capitol Hill, but-” Matt raised his hand as far as his restraints would afford. “They hadn’t cleared out the women yet.” He pointed to the darker fringes of the painting, where human men in suits submitted with disturbingly-rendered joy to the embrace of their new overlords. Each armored soldier seemed to have her protective arms around at least one man. “-And I promise you that no one was smiling. Other than that, it’s pretty similar to what we saw on TV.” 

“I wouldn’t want to paint the human women either. There’s nothing wrong with a little artistic license.” Asyx shrugs, dismissive. “Let’s begin.” 

A little device beeped on the table between him and his captor.

“This is Huntress Asyx, under the command of the Third Chieftess Paxilae. I am interviewing my presumed martial claim, Matthias Carter. This is done under the order of Administrator Paxi for intelligence, and as part of my petition to be officially and honorably released by my commanding officer. I understand that following my release from the Hunters, I will be reinstated in my former Fleet station as First Lieutenant...”

Matt eventually tuned out the droning introduction. 

The second painting on the wall was a family portrait of President Marks and his assigned mate with their three daughters and one son. There was a rumor that he was assigned off-world to a Major Admiral in some distant quarter of the Empire.

The son was the youngest, sitting in the lap of the smiling president. He was the beaming center of the image, with his purple-scaled mate standing over him and holding him by his shoulder. Only the slightest beginning of a smile perked the corner of her maw. Their three young daughters looked stoically toward the viewer, the splitting image of their stiff, high-born mother. Marks’ mate was the same Daxy that stood beside Axla and Paxi in the first painting, now his lover instead of his conqueror. 

It seemed the rumors were true.

“Matthias-”

“Matt.” He turned his head back toward his Asyx. “Call me Matt.”

Her eyes glistened. “Okay-” She took a second to continue her thought. “-Matt, before you are released from the Administrator’s custody, and you are entrusted officially and indefinitely into my charge as your mate, I must hear any intel concerning your past operations. This will help me come to know you better, and will provide Paxi with the information on Zion which she desires. Do you understand?”

Matt lifted his hands from the table, the chain binding him in place going taut again. “I understand.” The cuffs were mercifully padded and rubberized to minimize discomfort. 

“You have an extensive record disrupting the Assignments of men on Earth in an official capacity for Zion. Please describe your responsibilities.”

Matt leaned forward, making eye-contact with his captor. “I worked as part of a team known to you guys as the ‘J-Boys’-”

“That stands for ‘Jesus Boys’, in honor of the man you worship, correct?” She was visibly disturbed by the idea.

“The Empire came up with the name, not us,” Matt blinked. “-but yes. You should know that Jesus is both a man and a god. I don’t believe your obvious dislike for my religion is relevant.”

The Huntress straightened, her gray, imperial uniform stiff around her body. “I simply think your beliefs are contrary to the true principles of the Empire, but that is a separate discussion. What was the responsibility of the ‘J-Boys’?”

Matt eyed the golden seal of the Hunters’ crossed spears over Asyx’s right breast. “We were just one team in Zion’s missionary efforts. Our ultimate responsibility was to further the gathering of Israel on the American Continent, and to bring souls to Christ to be saved. My team was tasked to bring young men back home who had been captured during the war, usually just before their Assignment.”

“You say you were just one team. However, of all the ‘Retrieval’ teams the Empire has encountered, yours was the most successful, or at least the most notorious.” She grinned toothily. 

“Yes, by the number of individual men successfully retrieved, we were the best, but for the record I give God all the credit.” He returned the smile, but without the teeth.

“How many males did you deprive of a happy life with a chosen mate?”

He responded instantly, his voice reverent. “Six hundred thirty two.” Matt looked down at the table, before flicking his eyes back to her in defiance. “We ‘deprived’ six hundred and thirty two men of a life of slavery, to reunite them with their friends and family.” 

“President Shepard must define slavery differently than the Empire. Despite that, your success rate is still most-impressive.” The Huntress’ eyes narrowed. “Records indicate that you and your team have been operating since just after the war, only stopping just a few months ago.”

Matt gripped the edge table. No, talk about anything else.

“Pasadena. What happened?” Asyx asked.

“It’s hard to keep operating when half of your men are captured and taken as pets.” He struggled to restrain the edge in his voice. “The Empire has records on what Colonel Braxys did to my team. I don’t think there’s anything I could say that you don’t know already.”

“I will decide what is relevant to this interview, my mate.” She narrowed her eyes. “The Colonel’s report says you were betrayed by one of your own, a Jude Newman, now Jude Axil. Jude set a trap that resulted in the capture and induction of many of your compatriots. Him and his mate live-”

“I don’t give a shit.” Matt snapped at Asyx, the chains rattling as he pushed forward. “He can live in fantasy land huffing pheromones all day, but one day he’ll account for betraying his brothers before his God.” His hips pressed against the table.

Asyx raised her brow at his aggression. “The way I read it-” she reached into the inside pocket of her uniform. “-is that he wanted you all to join him, as brothers under our care.” The black, thermal under-layer over her cleavage was briefly exposed as she pulled her PDA from her uniform. “Doesn’t sound malicious to me.” 

“He sold us out!” Matt slammed a fist to the table. “You know what it’s like to listen to your men be violated over the radio? I couldn’t do anything!” His rage dissolved into despondency. “I’ve never felt so damn helpless.”

“I understand.” She flipped open the metal case of her PDA, but didn’t look down at it. She fixed her eyes immovably on him.

“No you don’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her deep green eyes peered down at him with radiant sympathy. “There are cruel Daxy who do not treat their mates with love. With your beliefs, I can see why that would be especially hard. ”

Matt bit back, his voice faded to nearly a whisper. “None of this is about love.”

“It is to me.”

Matt didn’t respond. His posture weakened as he slumped in his seat.

“Regardless, you were right; there is no benefit in continuing on this subject.” Asyx started again. “Colonel Braxys’ report was thorough. I merely wanted to understand you better, and the incident in Pasadena seemed pertinent.” She looked down at her open PDA. She dragged her claw across the screen. “With how your work in ‘retrieval’ ended, why did you decide to return at all? You had a reduced team, and you must’ve known that aiding Miles Penn in his escape meant eventually crossing paths with Colonel Braxys.” She set her PDA against the table with a clank, folding her claws together. “Were you forced?”

He managed a wry smile. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just insane.” 

“I highly doubt that.”

“I wouldn’t have gone back, but President Shepard asked me to do it. He said that the Lord needed me to help Miles.”

“So you were forced.”

“No,” Matt shook his head, interlacing his own fingers. “I could’ve said no, but you don’t say no to the Prophet.”

“Why not?” She crooked her snout at him. “You felt compelled to say ‘yes’, yet you were not forced? Was it an order or not? I don’t understand.”

“Prophets are sort of like your PDA there-” he pointed down at the device in her hands. “-just like you need that to talk to people who are far away, prophets make it much easier for God to talk to us. They tell us what He wants us to know” He shrugged, his bindings clinking together. “I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and I don’t know how it works myself— I just know that it does.” He pointed at himself with a thumb. “Not listening to him is just short of ignoring God himself.”

“You believed that your God wanted you to help Miles because of the words of Shepard.”

Matt nodded.

“I admire your passion, my mate.” She chuffed. “No, I don’t understand how your God talks to you. However, I know that I am here because I believe in Axillis’ mandate to her daughters.” She mirrored Matt’s conviction. “We must seek out, join with, and protect every man. I know what it’s like to give a damn about something that cannot be seen.”

“’Giving a damn’.” He echoed her wistfully. “My eternal curse.”

“Indeed.” Asyx leaned forward imposingly, and the chair beneath her buckled at what must’ve been about a half-ton of weight. Her lime-green snout rose over a foot above him. “Let’s say your ‘God’ is real. Let’s say He really chose you to help Miles through His ‘Prophet’. If I’m understanding you, you could’ve ignored the call, and done so without any kind of punishment.”

“That’s correct. There are many who have refused callings like that one before.”

“So you expect me to believe that you did it out of pure duty?” She shook her head. “I won’t pretend to understand the measure of your commitment, but that seems to be only a part of the picture. I think that you wanted to do it, at the very least to prove that you could. More likely, you still believed it was right for you to do, regardless of whether you were asked.”

Matt frowned. He tapped his fingertips against the table. “What’s your point?”

“’Giving a damn’ is a good quality in a mate.” Her voice of praise faltered. “Having something to prove, however, is dangerous. It is a good thing you fell into my claws. I hope you continue to cooperate.” She glanced at the recorder. “There is much more we need to discuss, but for now…” she reached out, clicking a button on the little device. “I believe you are in need of something, my mate.” She grinned, exposing her rows of sharp, off-white teeth.

Matt leaned away from the massive creature. Asyx was huge, even for a Daxy. “What do you mean?”

“Human men, always so afraid of those who only wish to help them,” she chided, the soft ridges of scales over her throat undulating. “You have no reason to fear me, my love.” She stood from her seat, walking around the table. “When we do mate, it will be somewhere warm…” She lumbered behind Matt, trailing the side of a curved claw lightly across the back of his neck. “-and somewhere comfortable.”

Matt shut his eyes as he heard her other claws scratching against the fabric of her pockets. His mouth moved indistinctly in silent prayer. Please God, protect me. Don’t let her hurt me.

“This is about another need of yours.” 

He jumped as he felt a rubbery patch stick to the back of his neck. “Wh-what is that?” It was a few inches across, and stuck just to the right of his spine.

“You weren’t this jumpy when we first met- I’m helping you relax, love.”

Slowly, a tension in his gut and a shakiness throughout his body dissipated. He sighed in involuntary relief. “Ah-” 

Asyx grabbed both of his shoulders in her huge claws, squeezing and kneading at his loosening muscles. “Just relax, love. I requisitioned the maximum strength for a human of your weight.” 

He blinked at an all-too familiar buzz in his brain. “Nicotine?” He straightened to ask the question. 

She leaned over, peering down at him as she continued to administer her gentle massage. She hummed in the affirmative. “I remembered those cigarettes you dropped when we first met. I won’t have my mate dirtying his lungs with those awful things.”

His mouth parted and he groaned in confused, grateful release.

She could’ve used the nicotine as a bargaining chip in the interrogation. Hanging his addiction over him to help break him was an easy play. 

It’s what he would’ve done.

Matt shut his eyes, and relaxed in Asyx’s considerate claws. “You want intel on Zion, right?” With his tension melted away, ideas came readily.

“Are you ready to provide it?” Asyx asked with interest.

He smiled as the huge, scaly hands wrapped around his shoulders continued to press and knead at his relaxing body. “What did you confiscate from me when I was captured?”

Chapter Text

The security stations of the Mars Relocation Facility were rarely something Forty thought of. An occasional glance at a camera overhead or the rare appearance of Warden Vera and her security team reminded her that she was always under surveillance.

She had only been on the other side of those cameras once; when she tried to escape just under eight years ago. The newly-formed Relocation Security was composed exclusively of former soldiers from the War and they had little tolerance for resistance.

The fiery resentment against humanity’s women, combined with an attempted riot numbering in the millions, nearly put her in a shallow grave on the Martian surface, along with many others.

Forty considered it divine providence that she had lived to see the other side of those security cameras once more.

The airlock to the maximum-security Moreaux Facility sputtered as it finished re-pressurizing. Unlike her own mid-security facility, this airlock was full of layers and layers of visible metal detectors, optical sensors, and even an x-ray. 

“Finally-” Xalara, Forty’s purple-scaled escort, took off a gray apron of protective bismuth from over her solid breastplate.  “-this shit takes forever!” She tugged on the taut chain hooked to Forty’s collar and shackles as she stepped to the left side of the airlock. She frowned up at a ribbon of one-way glass stretched across the wall of hardened martian concrete. “Are we good?” She yelled, pounding her armored fist into the wall.

Forty cringed. All of the separate scanning stages took a total of ten minutes. “Is the ionizing radiation necessary?” Her eyes were fixed on the obvious, dark aperture of a high-voltage x-ray source as it clicked back into its tracks on the parabolic ceiling overhead. “Xal-”

“You know how often this place takes visitors?” The guard shot back. Her edge of frustration eased up just slightly. “And we’ve got these suits for the guards when we do use the x-ray scanner, which-” she glares up at the little window. “-I told them wasn’t necessary in the first place!” 

“Aw, you trust me.” Forty smiled in satisfaction as she pressed a finger in the sweaty, cramped space between her tight collar and her neck. It made it just a little easier to breathe. 

“Heh, I don’t trust any woman without scales.” Xalara’s tone lightened with sarcasm. “But you’re not a hide-contraband-in-your-bones type bitch.” Xalara redirected her attention to the guards on the other side of the concrete. “They would’ve know that too if these bitches just listened to me— if Ximiax listened to me, you fucking-”

“Ah! Four-zero-seven! I apologize for the delay.” The cheery voice of Warden Vera played from a speaker overhead. Her voice faded into gentle static. “Let them in. Yes, right-” 

Her faint voice cut off with the sound of a harsh buzzer. The illumination of a single blue light overhead on the complicated system of intersecting rails signaled the end of the scan.

Hydraulic-powered deadlocks thumped out of place somewhere inside the vault-like door before Xalara and Forty. “Where are the locks?” Forty eyed the door, but there was little visible sign of unlocking.

Xalara removed her last piece of bismuth shielding, a padded helmet that looked soft and cushy, but would’ve been uncomfortably heavy if not for the reduced gravity of Mars. “What did you expect?” She held the helmet at her side. ”This place is meant to keep the monsters in, not keep the people out.” 

Forty raised an eyebrow at Xalara’s toothy grin. Despite her obvious teasing, her clenched rows of sharp teeth and an uneasiness in her green eyes betrayed a deeper discomfort. 

The foot-thick, radiation-shielded, and pressurized door parted. It’s mysterious mechanisms clicked loudly in a regular rhythm as the door slid back into the wall.

The door opened to the entrance of a brightly lit security station. The walls of the single, wide hallway were still made of concrete, but the floors were made of a strange white tile. 

The hustle and bustle of the team of techs and other personnel working together was audible, but not yet visible. The excitement came from somewhere down the hall and on the right, contrasting the line of quiet and dutiful security personnel looking up at a grid of hundreds of holodisplays on the left side. 

Directly ahead, the short and stout Warden Vera stood in the middle of the hall. She was flanked by two heavily armored guards on either side, both of whom were taller than her. The security detail was dressed in the intimidating, all-black armor of the Enforcers. Even seeing the electric stun batons and pheromone gas grenades mag-locked to their waists made Forty’s heart pound in her chest.

“Four-zero-seven, Axillis’ grace knows no bounds.” An exceedingly warm greeting from the Warden demanded Forty’s attention. “It is good to see you face-to-face again!” Her joy and excitement was sincere. She opened her arms wide. “Come, come!” 

Xalara and Forty glanced at each other. 

Forty resisted the urge to roll her eyes while her captor tugged her chain toward the Warden with a wicked smile. 

Forty acquiesced to the pressure, and approached Vera slowly. Despite being taller for a human woman at five-foot ten, she was edged out by Vera, who was very small for a Daxy at just six-foot. 

“I’m elated that you have decided to serve the Empire.” The fire-red Warden closed her arms tightly around the human. “If it was up to me, you would’ve already been transferred out of Detention and to Relocation with the rest of your sisters.” Vera tensed as her body pressed to Forty’s clinking chains. She pulled away, her terse expression making Forty nervous. What had she done wrong? "Sergeant, please, undo her bindings.” 

Xalara blinked. She held tightly to the chain wrapped around her claws. 

Vera and her silent guards stepped backward to make room. “Sergeant, surely our security could deal with one errant human female. It is not worth subjecting Four-zero-seven to the discomfort.” Vera’s smooth, blue robes glowed radiantly. She nodded toward Forty reassuringly. “She is about to do a great service for our united peoples.”

You say that like I have a choice.

Xalara dropped the chain with a sigh as she closed the distance between her and her captive. “Fine.” 

Vera folded her arms expectantly. 

“You know Forty, you look pretty good in all this— for a bitch, anyways.” The Sergeant cackled, removing both quick-release RFID keys from pockets on either side of her armored waist. “The only skinny I like leading around on a leash more than you is my mate!” 

Forty winced at the derisive laughter. It burrowed somewhere deep within her mind. She clenched her eyes shut at the image of the sweet man from Xalara’s pictures degrading himself before her. In her imagination, she watched him bury his face between the thighs of the green-scaled menace.

The visual made her muscles clench and her chest tighten.
 . 
Xalara’s mate looked so much like him. 

This is wrong. 

At that thought, Forty imagined another, more familiar man prostrating himself before a radiant, golden Daxy. Despite the change of characters, the lovely man was engaged in the same dutiful, carnal worship. 

The chains of the enemy. 

Forty listened helplessly to his whimpers, while the pleasured grunts of the Daxy standing over him burned the scarred, old wound in her heart.

He was everything to me.

She watched the slim band of metal around his neck tense with a pull of a leash. Light imprints of Daxy bite-marks marred the perfect skin of his shoulder and neck. 

The man pulled his face from the Daxy’s burning sex. With entranced, elated words, he mumbled his worship like a prayer. 

“I’m yours,” he whispered to his new mistress. “I’m yours!” 

Forty wanted to speak, but her lips were sealed. No, you are mine. What could make the sight go away? You were mine. What could she say? 

She steered her mind toward the glow of past experiences. She saw his face as clearly as the day he was ripped from her.

A hand in hers. White clothes. White veil. For time and all eternity. A radiant, cheerful smile. 

You’re my angel.  A simple sunset. I love you. Leaning her head on his shoulder. This world needs more angels. 

Stepping into their home. This will change the world. Crying child. Labcoats. We can’t give up. Drone of a thousand cooling fans. This is His work. Caffeine. Long nights. We will change the world.

No matter how hard she tried, she found no peace. Every sweet memory was tainted with the revolting bitterness of the images poisoning her mind. 

My fault. My fault. My fault...

“Forty! What the fuck?” 

Her eyes shot open. She stared squarely into Xalara’s eyes. The Daxy was gripping at both of her shoulders.

“Shit, are you okay? Forty?” The green Daxy’s anxious grip was tight enough to press a mark into her weighted vest.  

The human swallowed heavily. “Y-” her heart was pounding out of her chest. She inhaled deeply. “Yes.” 

The empathy was an act, it must've been. Despite their softness, all Forty saw in the slit eyes of the concerned Daxy was the hateful gaze of a masterfully cruel predator. Hatred was their nature. 

Vera watched in silent thought. Her intelligent, glowing eyes lit up in quiet recognition. “Xalara, please refrain from teasing the prisoner.” She crooked her triangular maw toward Forty. “There is an on-call doctor in the Moreaux wing right now. Do you need chemical relief to work?”

Forty shook her head. “No.” The quiet voice of the Warden dissolved the worst of her terror. “Let’s get started.” 

“Excellent. Sergeant Xalara, I can take her from here. Please check on Kasvex and see how the next round of interrogation is progressing.” Vera tried at a smile, yet she could barely managed to perk up the edges of her maw. She avoided Forty’s eyes as she turned to lead her down the hallway and toward the noise. “Follow me, human, and we will get started.”

“Yes ma’am.” Xalara was left standing alone. Despite her agreement, her maw was parted in confusion and she muttered something to herself. “What the hell did I do?”

You run your hand along the steel net, careful not to cut yourself on any rusty edges. This upper-level of the Needle’s Eye Complex was created using reinforced earth, rather than the clean concrete and marble of the level below. The ceiling and walls of gravel and precarious-looking boulders are held together with a regular grid of huge bolts and washers. Each one is likely buried more than a foot into the speckled granite, turning the tensile load of gravity into a compressive one. 

Despite it being completely structurally sound, it looks like it is being held together by nothing more than the thin, 21-gauge wires of the steel net. Really, the net on the surface only held back the occasional loose rock and said nothing of the strength beneath.

At the end of the hall a few hundred feet away, you see a jackhammer, blasting equipment, and high-vis vests piled up haphazardly

Far before the end of the tunnel, you turn to your left to face a steel door. “BASE HOSPITAL,” reads the engraved writing in the door. You hear Finn’s low voice from inside.

You push the door open slowly. Inside is the Complex’s brightly-lit medbay. White-tiled floors and opaque glass walls give the room an ethereal vibrancy. 

Finn is crouched down on the opposite end of the medbay, his form obstructed by a gurney left in the center of the rectangular room. Half of the cabinets mounted to the wall are open to various degrees, with Finn rifling loudly through one on the ground. 

You push the door the rest of the way. “What’s u-”

“Ah!” Finn raises his head out of the cabinet, but doesn’t pull back far enough. His head smacks loudly into the chamfered edge of the blue-and-white cabinets. “Fuck!”

“Sorry,” you cringe as Finn slowly gets to his feet.

He rubs at the top of his head with a wince. “Shit, you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” 

Finn blinks absently for a moment before his green eyes refocus on you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Just thinking-” Finn nods. “Damn it, no, what am I talking about? I’m far from okay.” Despite looking very much awake, his form slumps. “Your dad told me about this place, I thought I’d finally check it out.”

You look around the room. It looks like a medical lab and the wing of a hospital were merged into one. Medical beds and vitals equipment lines the wall to your right, while lab tables and medical equipment lines the left wall. You recognize the centrifuges, and bacterial-culture incubators. “Looks like this equipment was barely used.” You pick up a pristine test-tube from a rack on the nearest lab table and hold it up to the light. “-or not used at all.”

“According to your pops, the scales decided to piss all over their parade just as they finished up this place. Damn shame, too.”

You put the test-tube back. 

“How about that Bridge?” Finn flicks his eyes up from the ground. “You and your Dad think of something yet?"

You nod, a feeling of pride swelling in your chest. “When we meet for dinner tonight, we’re going to tell everyone.”

“Let me guess, it’s dangerous?”

“Not as long as we can keep the cooling systems running at maximum…” and if we don’t, the Echo will become a hydrogen bomb. “But right now, I’m here for you.” You fold your arms and lean against the lab-table. “Were you able to find some amphetamine?”

Finn’s tanned cheekbones drain of the rest of their color. “No.” His voice is barely audible over the rush of warm air blowing in from a vent overhead. “Whoever came through here took anything like that when the shit hit the fan.”

He walked toward a heavy-duty metal cart beside a locked set of cabinets. 

“I was able to find the doctor’s keycard to open these up, but—” he rolls out the top drawer of the metal cart. “-no morphine, no antibiotics-” He moves down to the next one, pulling it out with greater frustration. “Nothing! Fucking nothing!” The drawer slams against the end of its track, bouncing back into the cart as quickly as it was pulled out. 

On the next drawer down, he pulls out a small white bottle that had been left there. “Bruproprion is the only thing here that could help. Fucking Wellbutrin! Are you kidding me?” He throws the bottle against the wall, the pills inside rattling around. “Useless!”

You frown as you watch him, eyes wide.  

His eyes tremble with realization and his intensity quickly fades. He grips at his frazzled hair. “I’m so fucked, Miles.” He steps backward until he hits the nearest cabinet. He slides his back down the polished wood until he’s sitting on the ground, his knees bent up in front of him. 

You step toward him in silence, slowly closing the distance between you and your friend. 

He buries his face in his hands as you join him on the ground, scooting back against the same cabinets to sit at his side. 

“At least the bupropri-whatever isn’t pheromones, right? I mean, worst case scenario, we could always get Alice up here and-”

Finn chuckles, pulling his face from his sweaty palms. “Oh-” He lightly pushes on your shoulder as his cheeks briefly flush red. “Screw you.”

“Ah, you like her!” You raise your finger to point at him. “Admit it. Admit it!”

“Fuck off!” Despite his words, he’s smiling brightly. His face turns a deep pink. “I do not—”

“Methinks ‘the lady doth protest too much’.”

“You said the same thing back in Vegas, you asshole!” He pushes you away again.

“It’s still true.”

“I know you can’t get enough of scaly cunt, but you don’t have to fucking sell me on it like it’s a religion!” 

“What can I say?” You shrug. “It tastes the best, feels the best--" Images of your intimate time with Rax come to mind. "It makes you feel all warm and nice inside to just get up close between a Daxy's thighs and lick like she owns you." You make a "v" with your fingers and nuzzle against it dreamily. 

“Bro, you’re so fuckin' nasty!” 

You both laugh together.

But it doesn’t last as long as you would hope. In a moment, you’re both silent, staring blankly across the medbay.

“What are you going to do?” You look to your friend. 

He pulls his bottle of methamphetamine capsules from his pocket. He twirls it around his fingers, watching the dark objects inside tumbling in the orange plastic. “You know why they even prescribed me this in the first place?”

“No.” 

“TRD.” He looks to you. “Treatment Resistant Depression.” He stops moving the bottle and curls all of his fingers tightly around it. “No matter how hard my Daxy stepmom tried to get close to me, and despite everything you and Nyx tried—” his eyes flash at you. “—I’ve never really felt human.” 

“I knew you were having a rough time, but…” 

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.” He turns his head away from you, looking straight ahead once more. “I used to blame all this on the Daxy. I think it was just easier that way, ya’ know?" His voice is transparently self-critical. “I hurt my step-mom? That’s her fault for stealing my dad from my abusive mom. They took me away from my family? That’s their fault for pushing me so hard. I become a drug-addict? Well, they prescribed me the drugs, so it’s their fault.”

“Do you think it’s all your fault?” you crook your head.

“Well, who’s is it, if it isn’t mine?” He shoots back. “Someone has to take accountability for my life!”

“Finn, I don’t think you’ve ever blamed the Daxy for your problems.” You shake your head slowly. “You’ve tried, and you’ve tried hard.”

Your friend’s reddened eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking. They glisten with moisture. 

“Finn.” Your eyes sting. It hurts to see him hurt. “The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve done nothing except blame yourself.”

“It is my fault.” Finn’s reddened face stiffens. “Who else can be responsible for ruining my life?”

“’Ruined your life’? Finn—” you sigh. “Were you always wise? Well, you did ask me if you could put your face behind the Echo's ion drive, so no comment.” You hesitate. “But your life isn’t ruined. I know it might feel that way, but look at where we are! Did we ever think that we would actually make it to Zion, let alone with your sister and Nyx?”

“No,” he admits. 

“Exactly.” You smile. “And now we’ll be there within a week or two. I promise you.” 

“That confident?” He raises his thick brow at you. “What about all the hydrogen we’re missing?”

“You want me to spoil the surprise?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He exhales heavily. “You’re right, but even if you weren’t…” he bends his neck backward to look at the bright lights in the ceiling above. “If I was the one to mess up my life, I can be the one to fix it.”

The shared burden on your shoulders lifts at those words. You feel the beginnings of confidence in his voice.

“And you’re not alone.” You lean toward him. “So tell me, how do we fix this? We’ve still got a whole chem lab, we-” you stop at the feeling of hard plastic against your knuckles.

“Take it.” His wide eyes peer into you as he holds his bottle beside your hand in a white-knuckle grip. “Give me my last dose, and then take it.”

“What about the taper?” 

“Please, Miles. Before I change my mind.” His eyebrows angle upward and his fingernails go white as his grip tightens. “Please.” 

Unthinkingly, you grab the bottle from him, yet he struggles to let go. 

With a grunt, he forcefully pulls his hand from the bottle. 

You stare down at it. “Finn, are you sure this is the best idea?”

“When we walk through that bridge, I want to be clean.” He crosses his arms over his chest, gripping tightly to his shoulders. “Clean from meth, at least. I’m tired of taking something just to feel normal.”

“What about the TRD?”

“There’s other things I can try— things I didn’t even think about because I wanted to get high more than I wanted to get better.” His hopeful voice wavers. “Miles, we’re finally getting a chance at real freedom and real happiness.” He sniffles. “I can’t miss mine, not this time.”

You open the bottle and dump out one last capsule. “Are you sure about this?” 

He nods. “As sure as a meth-head can be.”

You hand him the orange capsule. “How is this going to go?”

In less than a second, he knocks it back. He swallows thickly. “There are a few things in this medbay that can help, but it’s going to be pretty awful for the next two weeks. It’s not like opioid withdrawal. The physical effects are minor, but…” he watches you like a hawk as you slide his prescription bottle in your own pocket. 

“The mental effects?” you ask, finishing his thought. 

“Pure agony.” With much effort, he looks up from the bottle in your pocket and up at your eyes. “Insomnia, anxiety, depression, fatigue-”

“Insomnia and fatigue? Isn’t it a stimulant?” Your mouth parts. “How does that work?”

“Well, methamphetamine acts primarily on dopamine which—” he shakes his head. “Ah, never mind. It doesn’t really matter. Just know that it’s going to be pretty awful.” 

“You’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.” Your voice is resolute. “You can do it, Finn. I know you can.”

He chuckles nervously. “No you don’t.” 

“I have faith, and you should too.”

“I guess that’ll have to be enough...” 

“For now, yes.” You grab his shoulder and squeeze. “But not for long.” You stand and begin to walk away. “It’s about time for dinner, we should probably—”

“Miles.” 

You turn around as you hear Finn quickly following behind you. 

He opens his arms and closes them around you in a sudden embrace. “Thank you.” He buries his face into your shoulder, his grip around your body tightening. “Thank you.”

You return his hug in the middle of the medbay, listening to the quiet drone of the NEC’s reactors somewhere beneath your feet. You hold your friend close as quiet, grateful tears soak into your shirt

“You’re welcome.”

Forty’s mouth parted. This part of the security station wasn’t staffed by Enforcers, or even regular guards, but an army of Fleet computer techs, dressed in blue fatigues. Fifty or so, in this room alone, looked up at holodisplays, typed away at terminals, and spoke with each other in hurried voices.

“Welcome to the Comp-Lab.” Warden Vera stood at her side, smiling brightly. 

Unsurprisingly, the place was staffed primarily by Daxy women of all shapes, sizes, and colors, but unlike the rest of the base, there were a few human men working here. 

Her eyes stopped on a green-eyed man dressed in naval fatigues. He stared up at a holodisplay on the wall, analyzing an unpleasant mess of error-codes. He walked up to it and pointed at a line for his Daxy companion to see. “…there’s no way we could sort through all of the weights manually, but…” his voice was swallowed up in the noise and excitement filling the room.

It reminded her of the long days and nights in her own lab. 

“I apologize for not warning you.” Vera asked. “Eight years, right?”

At either side of Forty and Vera stood the black-clad enforcers. They stood nearly completely motionless.

“Since I’ve seen a male?” Forty said. She nodded slowly. “Eight years, two months, and six days—” she looked up at the red-scaled Daxy. “—that’s how long it’s been since my husband was taken from me.”

“If it’s any consolation, the expert you will be working with is not human. Ah—” her eyes caught on a tiny form walking around the congested space. “Lixey!” 

A short Daxy who had their back turned to Vera and Forty perked up. They were leaning over one of the techs to examine the output on a terminal. Their stubby, orange tail wagged back and forth, sticking out from a white, human-styled labcoat. 

“Lixey-” Vera said again.

“Yes, yes!” Lixey whipped around. “I apologize. I haven’t gotten much sleep.” The five-foot Daxy was dwarfed by all around, even by Forty. 

Forty’s brow inched upward. A Daxy man.

“Typical reaction,” he spoke quickly. “It is good to have you here.” He extended his little claws to shake the human’s hand.

Between the Daxy’s specially-tailored slacks and labcoat, the little man looked as if he was dressing up as a human scientist, rather than a Daxy scientist.

Forty finally reached out and shook his hand. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen a male of your kind before.”

“There are many males of all kinds across the Empire. We are all spread thin, pure-blood pairings especially so. In any case, it matters not. My mate and I are here for the benefit of your kind.” 

Right. Forty resisted the urge to sigh.

“Your reputation precedes you. Acumen for AI research— exceptional talent for an exceptional crisis.” He stepped backward on his digitigrade legs, gesturing Forty and Vera forward. “Come, come. I must show you around. Excitement is guaranteed.”

Warden Vera gestured for their escort to stay at the arched entryway. “Wait here.” Her command is acknowledged by a resolute nod from them. She follows Lixey with Forty at her side.

At the end of the room, a row of pressure-resistant glass windows reveals this lab to actually be a control room. Below, rows of server racks and helium-cooled computer banks stretch as far as the eye can see. The ridged, arched ceiling of the underground, martian warehouse takes on a simple half-pipe shape to support itself under its own weight. 

“You’re looking at the most secure and one of the fastest computers in the entire Sol-system, the Maxilie Computer.” Lixey beams, his smooth, little tail wagging faster behind him. “Together with its sister facility, the Veritas Supercomputer, we have a maximum of 10 exaflops of computing power and 50 exabytes of DNA-based mass storage with 5 additional exabytes of fast storage” 

“DNA-based?”

He nodded. “Silicon just wasn’t enough. A Daxy computer engineer and biophysicist figured out how to efficiently encode and read using DNA a few millenia ago.” He tapped on the glass with the edge of a filed-down claw. “This computer is named after her, actually. Fixal Maxilie.” 

On the floor of the supercomputer complex below, two Daxy scientists wearing scrubs and masks stopped at what looked like a mass-storage bank. One of them checked some readings on a display terminal, while the other crouched to rotate some of its storage-cylinders out of place. 

“The Assignment Commission moved the whole Assignment Algorithm piece-by-piece into Maxilie’s RAM.”

“So we can figure out what’s wrong with it without having to deal with the delay between here and Earth?”  

He nodded. “Also ensures that no one else tries to interfere with it.” 

Vera listened silently to their conversation, an approving smile persisting throughout. “Love-” she suddenly leaned downward to kiss Lixey on the side of his maw. He had to stand on the tips of his three toes for her to even reach him. Their contact is quick, but gentle and sweet. “-I’m going to make the rounds and ensure that our interrogation of Kasvex is being handled properly.”

“Sounds wise, my mate.” He flusters bashfully. “I will get us to work immediately.”

Vera turns her gaze to Forty. “I trust that you will be on your best behavior around Lixey.” Despite the warning, her disposition quickly turns cheerful. “I  know that the two of you will figure out whatever is going with the Algorithm and fix it. Countless human men and Daxy women are counting on us to help them find happiness in each other’s embrace.” 

Forty frowned. “Don’t worry…” Could the Daxy ever stop spewing their propaganda? “I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

“Excellent-”  Vera patted her on the back, before awkwardly shuffling away. She cast one last glance back at her mate and her prisoner before rounding the corner of the entryway they had walked in from.

“Come on, I prepared a work station for us that should be quieter. The techs have a hard time keeping quiet.” 

Forty followed the short little Daxy as he lead them through another opened, high-security bulkhead and into a narrow hall. Bright white light lined the top of the lonely and quiet tunnel. The ruckus of the busy techs faded into the hum of the atmospheric recyclers.

“I was being sincere when I said your reputation precedes you, Mary.” 

The woman froze in the middle of the hall.

Lixey walked a few more feet before stopping himself. “We are alone, here.” He looked over his shoulder. His slit-eyes widened in sympathy. “There is no rule barring me from using your real name.”

“Only Warden Vera knows—”

“I am not part of the staff here.” He smiled. “Mrs. Penn, my security clearance is quite higher than you likely suspect.” He walked back to the human, looking up at her. “You are not property or a number. I refuse to address you as such.”

“But-”

“My mate may address you like that, but I won’t. My Vera is forward-thinking when compared to her peers, but she can’t help but view females of other species this way.”

“’Mrs. Penn’ is gone,” Mary said through pursed lips. Her eyelid twitched, and her hands clenched into fists at her side. “If you’re looking for her, you won’t find her.” She grabbed at her slim platinum bracelet. She twisted it about her narrow wrists.

“Mary-”

“My husband and my God can call me that.” The woman continued past him. “If you’ve got scales, you call me Forty.” 

“If you so wish.” Lixey hurried to catch up to the taller human. “The intellectuals in the core of the Empire have great respect for the Penn name. We’ve never seen another species do what humanity managed to do.”

“And what would that be?” Forty kept her eyes straight ahead. 

“I know it likely seems like a mistake now, after what my people did to you.” 

“I’ll never see my family again because of ‘your people’.” It took great effort to avoid blowing up on him. “So stop trying to be my friend. I came here to do a job, and that’s it.”

“Vera forgot to mention the reward, didn’t she?” Lixey still smiled. “We do not expect your labor to go unrewarded. Fixing the Assignment Algorithm is a service that High Command will not take lightly.”

“Will they give Adrian back?” She halted her double-time steps to look down at him pointedly. 

“You know as well as I do— that is one request that we cannot fulfill.”

“That’s what I thought.” Forty started again with a harrumph. “I’m just doing this to avoid dusting-off solar panels instead.”

Lixey walked at her side. They were nearing the end of the hall. “Do you not see that I am trying to help you?”

“That is what the Daxy always say. When you ‘help’ us, it really means genocide. Every woman, separated from their families and forced to live the rest of their days in a god-forsaken prison, with no comfort except the image of the man they love collared, and taken in the arms of another woman.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t.”

“One day, I hope we will all come to see that we are not each other’s enemy.” He crooked his triangular snout. “We have done horrible things to each other, but the Daxy love humanity. We love your people with the love of Axillis herself.” 

“Shame only half of humanity doesn’t fit into that picture.” Forty scoffed. “I’m surprised Axla didn’t just make it quick and dump us all in a mass-grave somewhere. Would’ve saved everyone a whole lot of trouble.” 

“We have our problems—” Lixey scowled at those words. “—but we are not genocidal. I know that many of your sisters were killed during the war, and I acknowledge that such deaths are a tragedy. There was much about the invasion that was abominable. This is why my Vera and I chose your world.”

“’Chose our world’?” 

“Axillis and Lax remember those who believe they have been forgotten—those who believe all hope is lost. When we heard the story of your people, my mate and I immediately petitioned High Command for a station here.”

“I thought Axillis wanted you to take our men?”

The two of them came to the end of the hall. 

“She wants all men to be protected and cared for. Many of my sisters believe that means an obligation to take them by force—” His voice was weighed by second-hand shame. “—but not all of us believe that.” 

The hall opened up to another room, this one much smaller than the last. To the right, a six-foot by six-foot window showed the Maxilie supercomputer below.

“Well, maybe one day that’ll mean something.” Forty scanned the room. In the center was a hologram projector, just like on the CIC of a Fleet warship. On either side was a quad-screened terminal station. 

“We used your full-body scan to get the seat adjusted to your settings, but if it isn’t comfortable enough, you’re free to adjust it to your liking.”

“Where do we start?” Forty asked. 

“You’re not the slightest bit curious about what Vera and I are trying to give you in return for your help?” The short little reptile smiled coyly.

Forty folded her arms. She wasn’t interested in a romance suite installed on her cell’s holodisplay. She also didn’t care for an extra hour in the rec-room. The other prisoners didn’t care for her anyways. “What?”

“Vera and I had no interest in proffering token prizes. We figured that the only thing you really wanted was to talk to and see your family again.” 

At those words, Forty’s head spun. Her lip quivered. She pictured her smiling children. She pictured her sweet and noble husband. She had begged God that He would never make her hope in vain again. 

“Vera and I endeavored to arrange a meeting with both your son and your daughter, but your son is currently… indisposed. He is physically fine, but he is beyond my reach.” His secondary, sideways eyelids winked over his reptilian slits in nervousness. “With that said—” he raised a claw. “—since we could not arrange a meeting with both of your children, we believed that your eight years of excellent behavior, in addition to the help you will provide in restoring the Assignment Algorithm to full functionality, warranted a petition with the high-court on Earth which manages complex Relocation cases. Vera has already submitted a request to have you reassigned to live with your daughter in the low-security Elysium Relocation site.”

“What?” Mary felt true warmth for the first time since that day eight years ago. Thoughts, both positive and negative, swirled and assaulted her; thoughts of her husband, of her son, and of her daughter. “She’s a woman now.” Moisture blurred Mary’s vision. Kristen is a woman.

“We heard back from the court this morning, and our petition has been approved!” He put up his little hands, urging caution. “Of course, the court will require a positive report that describes the specific help which you provided, but after the Algorithm has been fixed, and Vera has provided that report, they will most certainly—” He gasped as the human took him in a hug. 

The stubby little frills on the back of his neck and up his spine scratched at her fingers. It was like she was hugging a velociraptor, but she didn’t care. 

“Thank you,” she said. After a moment of cathartic contact, she pulled away. “Sorry.” she looked up and around, scanning their environment. “That won’t get me in trouble, right?” 

“What they don’t know mustn’t hurt them.” He shot a glance up the hall which they came from. “That said, although these specific cameras are rarely monitored—” his eyes drifted up to a camera in the ceiling above. “—we should probably delete any record of that.” He spun nervously at a thin band of silvery metal around his neck.

“Oh.”

“Just to be safe,” he was quick to add. “Don’t worry about it. I will take care of it.”

“Right.” She took a half-confident step toward the terminal. 

It took another moment to break the awkward silence.

“Should we get started?” Forty finally asked. 

“Yes.” Lixey cleared his throat and clapped his little scaly hands together. "Let’s bring you up to speed at once.” 

Chapter Text

“Love, what is that?”

You hear Nyx’s voice from the end of the hall to your left. In the NEC, the most impressive room must be the one you’re passing through now. A parted blast shield leaves the massive synchrotron ring of the Needle’s Eye exposed down on the level below.

“Oh, those are strawberries,” your father replies. 

Your boots squeak against the smooth marble beneath your feet. You turn a sharp left, passing the rows of controls, buttons, and old computer displays beneath the window overlooking Zion’s largest Bridge. 

We have to make that thing run. Despite a new plan, the prospect is still daunting. The only Bridge you knew of that beat out this one was the Daxy’s orbital World Bridge. 

Regardless, instead of merely frowning quizzically, you smile. You and your father just needed to get the whole team on board. 

It was going to take all of you.

“Really?” Nyx doesn’t sound convinced. “I tried strawberries during the War. Aren’t they supposed to be soft and juicy?” Although you can’t see her, she is audibly repulsed. 

“That one’s freeze-dried. Watch, try it.”

As you leave the main control room and start down one of the diverging halls, you get closer to the sound of your father and your adoptive, Daxy mother. 

My mother. The thought widens your smile. I have a mom. 

You hear a crunch, followed by Adrian’s expectant tone. “It’s good, right? Sweet?”

“Sure, it’s alright, I guess.”

You see Nyx and Adrian together in the conference room at the end of the passage, at least, you can see their backs. They’ve moved around the projector and some of the seats to make room for some improvised cooking gear, but the calculations you and your father scribbled across the white-boards earlier today are still there

“It might be sweet—” Nyx turns to her side, the seven-and-a-half foot Daxy bearing down over your father. “—but not as sweet as you!” The reptilian scoops Adrian up in her arms before he can protest. “My sweet little human!”

At least he takes it well. “They’re going to be here any second!” he laughs along with the former-Commander. “Nyxi—” He gasps as she twists her snout into the nape of his neck, pecking at his skin gently, but insistently. 

You blink, stopping at the entryway to the conference room. As your father is lifted up further in Nyx’s arms, he can see over her shoulder as she kisses at him. The two of you make eye-contact.

“Nyx! Nyx! Put me down!” Your father panics.

“Why should I, Addy?” she laughs wickedly.

“It’s Miles!”

Just to do your poor dad a favor, you knock loudly on the door frame. “Ahem.” You clear your throat loudly. 

Nyx’s frills stand on end. She whips around, your father still in her arms. 

The two of them fumble to disentangle limbs and separate from one another. With a few more seconds of awkward struggle, your Dad is standing back on his own two feet.

“I’m sorry, Miles.” She forces her grabby claws to her sides.

“Is dinner ready yet?” you ask, your expression flat.. 

“Yes, actually.” It doesn’t take long for your father to shake off the awkwardness. “Come, come.” He’s wearing an old apron over his ornate dress shirt that reads, “Kiss the Cook” 

You walk toward a fold-out table they had set up to the right side of the conference room, right under the shielded window which overlooks the Needle’s Eye. The open blast shield cuts the bright light from the other side into three diverging rays, casting your father’s face in stark lighting as he walks behind the makeshift kitchen table. 

“This is a crockpot.” He points to an ovalesque slow-cooker. The ornate flower-patterning might be faded on the ceramic vessel in some places, but whatever bubbling, dark stew is inside smells good. “Roast, old family recipe.” He props himself up against the white fold-out table. “I had to use dried onions instead of fresh onions, but what can you do?”

“This looks really good.” Your stomach grumbles. You hadn’t eaten all day. “What’s in it, beef?”

Your father nods. “Found some in the food storage on level four. Hopefully this roast isn’t freezer-burned.”

“It was sealed in a vacuum bag, so hopefully not. I love Earth meat.” Nyx rounds the kitchen table to join your father. She stands directly behind him, hooking a claw around his waist. “Sorry you had to see that earlier, Miles.” She averts her teal eyes from you for a moment. “I just love a man who can cook.” She leans in to kiss Adrian on the lips. “I’m going to go round up the rabble.” 

Adrian is left blushing. “Thank you, love,” he says. “Thank you!” he calls out, a little louder. 

She winks over her shoulder before she steps through the doorway.

You hear another set of footsteps.

“Whoa, coming through—” Rax leans to the side to dodge Nyx as they pass each other at the doorway. Your blue-scaled lover stops between the rows of chairs in the conference room that had been pushed out of the way to make room for more fold-out tables and haphazard place settings. She turns on a dime to face you and your father. 

“Hey Rax,” you say with a gentle smile.

“Hey baby.” Her eyes drift off of you and over to the crockpot. “Sorry if I’m early, I could smell that from across the base.”

“You’re just in time.” Your father says with a chuckle. “Please, take a seat. Miles, you too. I insist.” 

Begrudgingly, you turn to join your Daxy companion. That is, until you see her staring up at you uncomfortably. The edges of her teeth are exposed in a pained grimace.

“Eh-” you stop. “What’s wrong?”

She looks past you to address your father. “I appreciate you wanting to serve me, Doc, but it might be better if Miles brought me my food.” 

“Oh.” Adrian’s expression is blank. “I see,” he says. His mouth parts for a few seconds. 

You stand between them awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow, looking back and forth between them. What is going on? 

“Come here, son. It’s okay.” He waves you back to him gently. He removes the glass top of the crockpot and the glass lid over some already-cooked mashed potatoes. He’s keeping them warm on a digital hotplate he retrieved from the lab. “Here— here you go.”

You stand there with your arms at your side, watching in confusion as your father dishes out two plates of slow-cooked roast, mashed potatoes, and a freeze-dried fruit mix. 

When he’s done serving the delicious food, you pick up both plates and some utensils. Right as you step away, your father gently touches your arm. He speaks in a hushed voice. “Sometime we should… talk about you and Rax, hm?” he raises his brow pointedly. "I can even pass on the family recipes now. Daxy women love a good roast!"

I don’t even want to know. 

You nod curtly. “Sure.” You turn around and carefully balance the food and utensils in both hands. Soon, you sit at Rax’s side and slide her food in front of her. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, my mate.” Her voice is light with sincere gratitude, or perhaps relief. She avoids looking at your father, and uneasily wraps her tail around your midsection as she begins to eat. 

“You don’t have to wait if you don’t want to, but we’re going to say grace before we eat.” Adrian clears his throat, moving onto something else. “This is place is still the Lord's, figured I’d do something to show Him we’re grateful.”

As Rax pokes at the roast with a fork far too small for her claws, the tender meat quickly falls apart. She swallows thickly, before attacking the gravy-drenched potatoes instead. 

Instead of the monster-bites you know her for, she takes a comparatively small bite of the stuff. She shakes her head after just one bite and sets the fork back down. “Sorry, sorry—” Her tail twists nervously back and forth around your midsection. “You know what? I’ll wait. I can wait.” Her headdress of frills lays flat.

“Is something wrong?” You touch her shoulder gently, but she jumps at the contact. “W-” 

“I think I’ve got everyone!” Nyx walks in through the open entryway once more with a small group in tow.

“For the record, I was already on my way.” Finn walks at Nyx’s side, a small smile on his face. “I’ve never been more hungry in my life.”

Behind them, Alice, Ruth, and Peter follow. 

That’s everyone. 

Adrian puts up his hands. “I was going to serve you all too, but—” he shrugged, a nervous smile curving the edge of his thin lips. “You know what, why doesn’t everyone just serve themselves?” Despite his words, he steps around the makeshift table with two plates in his hands. 

Your father sits directly across from you on the other side of the rectangular table. 

“Ah, thank you, my mate. You know how much I appreciate this,” Nyx soon sits at your father’s side, pecking him on the cheek. She looks elated at the plate of food before her. “I haven’t had a meal this good since the invasion.”

“Speak for yourself!” Finn’s sister, Ruth, pipes up from the kitchen table. “I haven’t had good food since well before then, scales.” She sets down a welding mask on the ground and wipes some grease from her hands onto her ill-fitting coveralls. The six-foot, green-eyed human woman serves herself a hearty helping and joins you at the table. She spaces herself equidistant from the two Daxy at the table, Rax and Nyx.

“How long have you been working on welding the plasma compressors?” Peter, the old doctor, follows shortly behind Ruth, making sure to sit close by her side to monitor her condition.

“I’ve been breathing fucking tin and lead fumes all day. Is that what you want to hear?” 

“A physician cannot heal someone who does not want to heal.” He scowls at his aloof patient as she takes her first bite. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention…” your father smiles. “I want to say grace before we eat.” 

“Who are we gonna pray to?” Ruth drops her fork to her plain ceramic plate with a sigh. “Heavenly Father? Heavenly Mother?” she glances at Nyx. “Axillis?” 

“Anyone can pray to God in whatever form He presents Himself, according to the dictates of their own conscience.” Adrian the ever patient father, remains diplomatic. “…But I will pray to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ.”

“’Him’” Despite the mockery, Ruth doesn’t pick up her fork again. She shrugs. “Well, you did make the food. I guess we’ll do it your way.”

“Grateful for the lack of overt blasphemy.” Peter remarks. “Will heal better.”

“Blasphemy?” Ruth is indignant. “’Physician heal thyself’.” She turns her glance to your father. “Seriously, thank you.” 

 Next, an orange-scaled Alice sits to the left of Nyx, scooting her seat in. “Yes, thank you very much, Dr. Penn.”

“Oh yeah, this smells great.” Finn, the last one to sit, comes to a stop as he approaches the table. His halted shuffling gains the attention of the whole party.

“Buddy?” You turn to look over your shoulder and up at him. “You alright?” 

He taps his foot against the ground, uneasy.

You turn back toward the table. There’s two open spots at the table, one at Ruth’s side, and the other beside Alice. 

Both Ruth and Alice look up at him expectantly, pressing him to make a decision. Everyone is silent. 

“Uh… why is everyone looking at me?” His body visibly tenses.

“No reason.” Rax smiles mischievously. The pointed end of her tail unwraps from you and waves through the air, gesturing obviously to the seat beside Alice. 

Finn rolls his eyes. “Damn it, can some of you move around? I’m sorry, I just-” 

He’s interrupted by a collective groan or sigh from everyone except your father and Peter. 

“Fine, fine!” He shrugs his sister. “Sorry Ruth.”

“What-”

Your friend cuts off his sister as he sits between the orange-scaled Alice and Peter. “You decided to sit far away from the Daxy at the table. That’s on you.”

Ruth blinks in shock. “I thought you hated the Daxy?”

“It is no problem.” Peter speaks over her before she can raise her voice. He promptly stands from his seat and motions for both Finn and Alice to scoot toward Ruth. They do so quietly, with the good doctor filling in the new space between Alice and Nyx. “You're welcome.” 

The rearrangement leaves Finn sitting right between his sister and Alice. 

Ruth is too busy glaring at Alice to acknowledge the favor. 

Alice’s reptilian, orange eyes narrow. The stubby, scarred end of her three-foot tail stiffens behind her. 

Finn shifts between them uncomfortably.

You swallow. Finn had mentioned that the two of them nearly fought to the death when they first met. 

“Adrian?” Finn starts, leaning forward to not be in the firing line of the killer glances between his sister and Alice. “Sorry, but I have to ask; you said you weren’t going to serve anyone, so why’d you serve Nyx? I know you guys are together but…” 

You glance at Rax, who freezes and flushes purple. 

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that?” You rub gently at the coarse blue tail wrapped around your stomach. Your Daxy lover’s nervous movements have halted. “Why was it so important for me to bring you your food?”

Rax glares down at you as her cheeks flush orange.

“What?” you ask.

When you look up, every Daxy at the table has their eyes fixed on you and Rax.

“Already?” Nyx asks Rax quietly, crooking her snout. Her frills flutter, putting her in a defensive posture. “How long has it been since you two ran away?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, Counselor. You got served by your mate too.” Rax breaks from her paralyzing embarrassment and folds her arms. The only one at the table she seems to avoid looking at is your father. “I’m not the only one who couldn’t keep her pheromones in her fatigues.”

Your face flushes red. “Oh.” 

Before Nyx can respond Adrian puts his hands flat against the table. “Alright, alright, that’s enough.” At his voice, the entire table quiets. The rush of warm air from a vent above is the only audible sound. “We’ve all been pretty tense these past few days.” Adrian looks around the table. “Each one of you has been contributing, doing something for the sake of this group, but before today, we still didn’t know how we were going to get out of here.” 

Everyone is fixed on your father. 

“-But that changed today.” His traveling eyes stop on you. “It was your idea, son. Tell everyone how we’re going to get to Zion”

You swallow as your little band turns to you. Some just look at you confused, but most at the table look to you expectantly.

Rax’s golden eyes tremble. Although her toothy grin expresses eagerness, her eyes silently plead with you.  

“I’m just as excited to hear this as anyone else, but can we eat first?” Ruth asks. “I’m going to start eating, so are we going to pray or not?”

Finn, who had secretly picked up his fork to start eating during your father’s remarks, drops it back to the plate in frustration. “Damn it, Ruth, he definitely forgot about that. Why’d you have to remind him?”

“Yes, let’s eat, and then we’ll discuss the plan. Afraid you’re out of luck this time, Finn.” Your father is already folding his arms with a cheeky grin. “I can say it.” 

You shut your eyes and bow your head, along with the rest of your group, who each do something similar.

Your Dad starts, his voice reverent. “Heavenly Father, we’re grateful to have this food before us, and to eat at this table as brothers, sisters, and allies. We ask that we can be of one heart and one mind. We plead that in the coming days we may be united in our purpose to…” he pauses as he tries to find the words. “…to get to our new home. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

You open your eyes and echo your father. “Amen.”

“Can you run that by me again?” Rax punctuates her request with a burp.

You frown, standing in front of your quick sketch of the three-part plan you and your father devised on the whiteboard. You twirl a green expo marker between your fingers. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t get any of that,” Finn says, swallowing the last bite of his food. 

The seven members in your party were just finishing up their dinner. Yours was only half finished. In your excitement, you had stood up to explain the plan before they had finished eating.

Clearly that was your mistake. 

“Okay.” You try not to groan. “One more time.”

Ruth had finished her food long ago. She supported her sharply defined chin on her palm, her elbow pressed against the fold-out dinner table. “Can we skip the quantum-electro-whatever?”

“Quantum electrodynamics? Sure. Essentials only.” You glance up at your father for help. He offers you the same encouraging smile he did earlier. “Alright…” you roll a clean section of whiteboard along the tracks in the wall over the one you’d just scribbled on. “Like any Bridge, the Needle’s Eye needs energy, and a lot of it. Does anyone remember the problem with that much energy in one place?”

“It melts stuff,” says Rax.

“Or blows stuff up,” adds Finn.

You nod. “Luckily, we have liquid helium and powerful electromagnetic fields to protect the secondary cyclotron and the Bridge’s primary synchrotron ring at normal operation temperatures. Our problem is that during the first thirty seconds or so, there’s transient, internal, friction in the surface of the Einstein-Rosen manifold.”

“And if we walk through during that time, it’ll kill us,” Rax says.

“Sadly, yes." You nod. She’s a better student than you give her credit for. “If we step into the manifold during its transient fluctuations, the relativistic, exotic matter creating the Bridge’s Interface will decay almost instantly at the inductive load, and although the ring would be fine, we’re not so resistant against ionizing gamma radiation.”

“That’s a real fancy way of saying we’d die.” Ruth folds her arms.

“Fair enough.” You press a hand flat to the whiteboard. “So to avoid that, we need to wait for the Interface to stabilize to its steady-state.”

“But we don’t have enough hydrogen to sustain the Bridge’s Interface that long.”

“Exactly, and that’s our problem, besides the fact that the last people to use it ran it way too hot. Luckily—” you gesture to Ruth and Alice, the duo still dressed in dirty work-clothes, your hands pressed together in gratitude. “—the latter problem is close to being solved. Thank you.” 

In unison, the orange-scaled Daxy and Ruth raise their plastic cups full of water to you in acknowledgment. It doesn’t take long for them to realize that they’re mirroring each other. They drop their glasses and glare at each other again. 

Best to get this done quickly. “And that leaves our hydrogen problem. The NEC’s supply of hydrogen has to fill the whole system simultaneously. That means it'll be split between three separate parts. It starts at the NEC’s second-gen fusion reactor…” With three differently colored markers, you first draw the fusion reactor in black as a simple cylinder on the board. “…the output to which feeds into the superconducting cyclotron which accelerates the plasma ions to relativistic speeds…” You draw a green circle in the middle of the board. “…before finally directing those into the Bridge’s superconducting synchrotron…” On the left end of the board, you draw a simple ring in red. 

“Complex particle physics, reduced to a circle, a ring, and a cylinder,” Nyx says with a smile.
 
“I’m not the best artist.” You shrug. “The rub is that there’s two ways to get the bridge to be open as long as we need it to, with how big and inefficient it is. We can either have a higher intensity ion beam out of the intermediate cyclotron, which means more hydrogen to create more plasma.”

“And that’s hydrogen we don’t have,” Rax says. 

“Or—” you raise the black expo marker in your hand. “—we can make the plasma hotter. No offense, Dad, but the second-gen one here would melt if we tried to raise the temperatures as high as we need them.”

Your father’s a good sport about your teasing. “None taken.”

“Luckily, it just so happens that we flew here on one of the most powerful fusion reactors in the whole fleet—” you pick up a blue marker from the whiteboard tray. With a crumbling eraser, you wipe the second generation fusion reactor drawn in black, and replace it with a blue cylinder. For extra effect, you try to draw helium cooling lines coming out of it. “If we use the Hangar’s lift to bring the Echo down to bottom floor of the Complex and use its fusion reactor to generate the high-temperature plasma instead, the math tells us that it’ll be plenty of energy to form the  Bridge’s Interface.”

Alice raises a claw to point at the three drawings on the board. “Okay, so if we use the Echo’s reactor, it can take the temperature, but isn’t cooling a problem at every step of the process?”

You nod, pressing your lips together. “Yes, and this is what makes this plan a little… dangerous.”

Rax’s golden eyes immediately widen. She stares up at you in silent desperation.

“The cyclotron and synchrotron use superconductors to generate the powerful electromagnetic fields. That field keeps the plasma where it should be, and accelerates it close to the speed of light. The bridge needs the plasma to stay that fast, or else the massive amounts of exotic matter it generates will decay all at once—”

“And kill us all with gamma radiation, again.” Finn groans. “Anyone else noticing a pattern here?”

“So what’s the problem?” Rax asks. Though she speaks confidently, you can detect the nervousness beneath her self-assured tone. “The superconductor keeps things going fast, we’re fuckin’ fine.”

“Yes, but—” You frown. “—the superconductor needs to be beneath a certain temperature to stay a superconductor. The heat from the plasma will slowly seep out of the system, and if the synchrotron or cyclotron gets too hot, the superconductors stop… superconducting. Not a problem with particle accelerators used in research colliders, but is definitely a problem in fusion-coupled Bridges where we need large amounts of muonic atoms.”

“So the problem is heat,” Alice says. “Do we have enough liquid helium?” 

“The problem isn’t amount, it’s distribution.” From each part of the three-piece system, you draw a helium line in blue. “If we use the Echo’s and the NEC’s condensers together, we’ll have a high-enough throughput to keep the whole system cool, but the automated valve switching wasn’t designed for our modifications.”

You draw the three lines coming together at one point, and draw three stick-figures next to the little dot they converge to. “Here’s the control room.” You tap the marker against the top of the board, and then point toward the control room down the hall. “Three of us will need to be up there to operate the bridge. This one requires two skilled operators to monitor the reactor and accelerators. Without some manual adjustments, the accelerators will never push enough plasma. Another one of us in the control room will have to keep an eye on the temperatures across the board…” you draw three more stick figures, one beside each of the three pieces of the system. “…and tell each person how much helium to allow into their part of the system.”

“Wait, so one of us will need to manually turn the valve at the synchrotron, cyclotron, and fusion reactor?” Nyx asks.

"And three more in the control room, so at least six of us, total." Your father nods in response. “Liquid helium flow in a three-part system like this is very complex. To address this problem, the original system used an AI to control the valves and keep everything cool, just like in newer Bridge designs.” He points to the board. “-But since we’re modifying the whole system, we’ll have to do its job for long enough for it to learn how to regulate the flow.”

“Like teaching a kid how to do something, or some shit?” Rax asks. 

Your father chuckles. “Something like that, yes. All we have to do is run it competently enough for it to take over.”

You nod. “-and once the AI has everything under control, everyone can abandon their station, and jump through the Bridge. When we’ve all made it, the control room in Zion can shut down the fusion reactor, the cyclotron, and the Needle’s Eye with the push of a single button.”

You drop your blue whiteboard marker back into the tray. 

“How long will we need to control the helium valves by hand?” Ruth asks, eyes scanning over your picture. 

“It depends,” your father answers. “We can run simulations on the NEC’s computer to try and train the AI before we do it for real, but that will only cut down on the time it will take. From my experience, I would expect a minimum of one minute, and a maximum of two, plus thirty seconds for the Bridge to reach steady-state before.”

“And those first thirty seconds will be most difficult,” you add. “During that time, the system’s behavior will be chaotic, and will require us adjusting to even slight changes in temperature.”

“So at least a minute and thirty seconds?” Finn says, blinking. “Can’t be that hard.” Despite his words, he doesn’t sound completely sure.

Nyx folds her claws together. Her eyes glisten in the light of the conference room. “Effective communication and quick action will be necessary.” 

“Exactly,” you exhale heavily. 

Everyone falls silent, collectively taking in the size of the task. 

“I’m in, on one condition.” Rax is the first to speak up. “Mi, you are the first to walk through. I don’t care if I have to stay behind to flip a switch or whatever the fuck, but I’m not having you here if shit goes south.”

“Rax…” Your mouth parts. Your cheeks flush. “I’m the only other physicist and engineer here besides my father. Him and I will need to be up in the control room and will probably be the last ones to leave—”

“No, fuck that.” 

“What do you mean? We’re making modifications to this system. We need someone who knows that reactor inside and out!” 

Rax jumps from her seat, the plastic chair scraping against the ground behind her. “Someone else can do it!” She steps toward you. “Not you! Anyone but you.”

Your chest burns. You’re breathless. Besides the woman you love being so confrontational, it doesn’t help to have the whole group watching.

“No one else can do it, Rax! Okay?” You scream, and she falls silent. “I know that you want to protect me, but there’s no saving me from this! I have to do it! It has to be me!”

“Why?” She shrugs, her maw parted. “Why does it have to be you? Why can’t the control room and Zion do whatever you’re going to do? Why couldn’t any of us do it?”

“Because we need to control the entire system manually! It’s not just pushing a button, or throwing a switch, hell, I'm barely qualified to do it! The control room in Zion isn’t designed to operate the whole thing from their end!” Although you started with your voice measured, your tone has raised beyond your control. “I’m the only one here who intuitively understands how to balance power output, and plasma throughput on the Echo’s fusion reactor! Can you do that? Have you studied physics since you were thirteen?”

“Miles.” Rax exhales. She takes a moment to control her anger, but her cheeks remain a deep purple. “You know how close you came to death?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Rax is standing right in front of you now, looking down at you. “You were just as confident then, and I watched you die.” Her voice cracks. “I can’t do it again, I can’t."

You feel the painlessness and warmth of that glowing place you visited. 

You remember the enlightening, ennobling words of Reesa and the Healer, encouraging you to finish the course. 

After all that, you decided come back to this very painful and cold place, rather than stay there. 

Why did you come back here? 

You feel a deep sense of shame for asking yourself that question. 

I watched you die. You hear Rax’s words repeat in your mind, just as she said them.

Your eyes are wet with moisture. “Rax, I—” You extend a hand to comfort her, but she’s already turned around.

Your mate dodges the dinner table in the center of the room on her way out. “Talk to me when you have another plan,” she mutters, whacking one of the empty plastic chairs with one broad stroke of her tail. It flies across the room, slamming into the leftward wall with a crash.

“Rax, please!” you call out after her, but she doesn’t stop. 

She takes a sharp right, turning beyond view. The sound of her footsteps fades.

The rest of the group is still totally silent.

You fall back against the whiteboard, your hands flat against it to support your own weight.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter Text

The pumping station at the bottom of the Needle’s Eye Complex was labyrinthine. Everything from hydrogen and water to the fire suppression and helium-cooling was managed down here.

A small clearing has been made through the mess of pipes, like a trail within a thick forest. Every few steps, you’d pass through the shadow of the pipes overhead. 

Louder than the fluorescent lights above or the vibrating pumps beneath your feet, you hear a quiet muttering, and the cranking of a ratcheting wrench up ahead.

“Come on…” 

The process of integrating the Echo’s helium-cooling into the NEC’s own system has been grueling. Between your understanding of the former and your father’s near-encyclopedic knowledge of the latter, it was possible, but that didn’t diminish the challenges.

Especially after what happened between you and Rax, it was hard to even stay focused most days. Working at the side of your father was the only silver lining.

“There we go…”

You round a bend in the pipe-strewn path to see the man himself seated beside a foot-wide, t-junction of blue pipe. A section of pipe from the ceiling and a section coming from the floor met at the junction, unifying into one. 

“CRYOGENIC HELIUM,” read a sign on the adjacent wall above an old-school, chemical-hazard diamond. Over in this far-corner, the mess of pipes hugged closer to the walls; a clearing in the dense forest. 

“Hey son, pass me that, will you?” Your father motioned for a device a few feet away. When you started all of this, your father raided an old wardrobe somewhere in the base. Rather than the Administrator’s elegant and ornate dress, he now wore plaid button-ups and slacks similar to the attire of the Zion missionaries. 

A pang of guilt disrupts your thoughts. You wonder if Matthias and his crew are okay.

“Son?” 

You blink crouch to pick up his metal-cased PDA and hand it to him. “Sorry.” 

“Thank you,” he says with an appreciative nod. It looks like rather than working on the pipe directly, your father attached a device to a cable which ran along it. “I don’t blame you for getting lost in your head; you’ve been busy.” He flashes you a smile as he takes the rectangular plug at the other end of the wire and presses it firmly into a slot in the gun-metal case of his PDA. 

“Speaking of which, we’re done with the split in the synchrotron’s helium discharge line.” You crouch beside your father. “We’re ready to test the system whenever you are.” You look at the screen of his PDA alongside him as he flips it open.

Your father pushes his golden, AR-glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Perfect.” Whatever mess of diagrams and figures projected by the sleek glasses illuminates his face in a faint blue glow. “Just finished wiring us in down here— this should allow us to interface with the mechanical room’s hardware with our newer gear.” He taps the side of his glasses pointedly. 

“And test this part of the system before the rest, right?” 

“Yes; though we won’t need AR glasses or anything similar for this test.” He sighs. “Joining the output of the Echo’s condensers with the ones here is a delicate matter.” The PDA in his hands blinks to life, displaying some complex mess of diagnostic and monitoring software. “Oh wow-” he grimaces. “I’ve never tried displaying this software outside of the control room. It’s clearly not designed for this aspect ratio—” he purses his lips as he taps at the screen. “I thought we fixed that.” 

Given the simple, pictorial representation of the pumps and condensers accompanying the feed of data and numbers, you’re guessing that it displayed the whole helium system.

“Is it recognizing the Echo’s hardware?” You lean in closer to look at the display. 

“Yes, good work.” Your father smiles and points at two duplicate diagrams on the screen. “Here are the Echo’s condenser, pump, and reservoir; all displayed in parallel with the NEC’s.”

“And the fusion reactor?” 

Your father swipes at the screen. “Unfortunately, the system was not designed with a second reactor in mind whatsoever.” He gestures at the simple diagnostic diagram of the Echo’s reactor. “The Echo’s unique, compressive design prevented a full interface. We’re getting basic information like core temperature, field strength, and reaction favorability, but we’ll likely want to monitor the reactor separately when we use the Needle’s Eye.”

Disappointing, but not surprising. “I see.” 

Your father swipes back to the cooling-system monitoring. He raises a finger to the frame of his glasses. “Miles just got down here. He says everybody’s ready up there. That true?”

“Ready and waiting-” Nyx’s deep voice plays from the frame of his glasses. 

“Perfect.” Your father smiles as you sit beside him on the granite-textured floor. 

You struggle to return the optimistic expression. A single problem in the cycling test would mean re-doing days of work on the cryogenic system.

“Son-” Adrian’s finger lifts from his AR-glasses. “This is going to work.” He grips firmly at your shoulder. 

The rumbling of the pumps beneath you intensifies. A high-pitched whir breaks the relative stillness of the mechanical room.

“Pumps are primed. Inlet junction is still closed; waiting for you word.” 

Your father keeps his brilliant blue eyes focused on yours. He forgoes an immediate response to Nyx on the other end of the comm line. “Hey-” He squeezes at you. “You’ve done good work. Everything is going to be alright.”

You barely believe either of those things, but your father’s sincerity is inexorable. You nod uneasily. “Let’s do it.”

His smile visibly brightens and he lets go of you. “Opening the valve now.” With one hand, he taps at a button on his PDA, and with his other, he reaches up to his glasses. “We’ve tried to minimize back-pressure, but—”

“Start the Echo’s pump first. Got it, sweet stuff.” Nyx’s sly voice is shortly followed by a rush of fluid from the pipe in the ceiling. Her technical education as a high-born woman gave her plenty of background to help, given a little bit of assistance from your dad.

You grip at your work-pants with your now-calloused palms. You and your father look closely at the head-pressure on the screen of his PDA. The digital read-out consisted of a moving bar on a gradient of gray, yellow, green and then red, with the optimal operating pressure near the upper three-fourths of the gauge. With the Echo’s pumps on, the pressure raises just out of the gray range.

“Activating NEC’s main pumps; one through three.” 

Three of the cylindrical pumps on the diagram change from green to red to show their operation— a confusing convention if ever there was one. The ground below you nearly shakes with the force of the new flow as the pipe extending out of the floor fills with the pressurized Helium

“Head pressure is climbing normally-” your father reaches out, placing his hand on the vibrating T-junction as fluid rushed in. 

You look around. The mechanical room fills with a loud hiss as empty pipes and distribution lines are filled.

Adrian laughs with child-like excitement. “Oh, I just love the sound of boiling helium!” 

You resist the temptation to hold your breath as you think of what one mistake would do under these immense pressures. You’ve never been so uncertain of your work before. 

The digital pressure gauge crawls out of the gray range, and into the yellow with nail-biting speed.

Unlike you, your father seems less nervous, and more thrilled. “Pressure is sub-optimal, but increasing. Looks good down here!”

“Same on our end,” Nyx says.

“Perfect. Just ten minutes or so, and it should cycle through the whole system.” Dr. Penn inhales, taking it all in. He lets go of the side of his glasses, muting the comm-channel to your friends upstairs. 

Rax was up there with Nyx.

You think of her looking at the elaborate control-room switchboard. She was probably cracking some kind of joke right about now. Perhaps it was about the two of you screwing each other. 

Or perhaps it wasn’t.

Can you even remember the last joke she told?

You slump against the pipe with a labored exhale. As if to sleep against the insulated helium lines, you close your eyes, but your father soon joins you. 

He removes his AR Glasses from his face, and folds them up in one hand so that its screens don’t obscure his sight. He looks at you. “What’s wrong, son?”

“Am I really that easy to read?” You almost laugh, but don’t.

“Miles, I’m afraid you’ll always be an open book to me” He shrugs with a wry grin.

You groan. “You sound like Nyx— I mean…” you blink. “…Mom. Should I call her that?”

Your father’s eyes dull and his smile falters. He avoids your inquisitive gaze. “I don’t know.”

“I thought that’s what you call-”

“It is.” your father quickly responds. “…it is,” he repeats. Despite his approval, his usually-present gaze is vacant.

My mom. You experiment with the title in your head again. Was Nyx your mom?

You did have a mother out there somewhere— the woman that gave birth to you. The woman that tended to you as a child; the woman that fed you when you were hungry; the woman that helped you to sleep whenever you were scared.

She did all those things before Nyx ever met you.

An uncomfortable, but insistent and familiar line of questioning presses on your mind. 

“Dad-” you purse your lips. “Do you think about Mom, sometimes? I mean, not Nyx, but—”

“Your mother?” He tilts his head up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, and the white glow casts stark shadows across his jawline. 

The platinum collar that was once locked around his neck had finally been removed, though him and Nyx had yet to decide on whether to re-purpose it or get a new symbol of their union altogether.

You overheard that pleasant conversation during breakfast this morning.

What would my actual mother think of all of this?

Your father finally answers you. “I used to think of your mother every day.” His eyebrows perk upward. 

You’re uneasy at seeing such a forlorn expression darken the face which usually shined so brightly. 

“Mary and your sister were continually on my mind.” The PDA displaying the diagnostic and monitoring data rests forgotten in his lap. “I don’t know if you remember, but when Colonel Braxys gained control of the Salt Lake Valley, we were among the men and families interned at Fort Christ.”

“I faintly remember playing with the other children.” 

“All the time.” He chuckles. “You’d run off with the other kids through the barracks and Nyx would have to go and find you.” He pats your knee with a firm hand. “You’ve been running from the Daxy for a long time.”

You return the chuckle. “I guess so.”

“I mean, Nyx would always catch you in the end, but you tried.” He chortles, though he can’t quite manage to laugh. “I’m sure she’s glad that you have Rax to chase you down now.”

Your first reaction is to raise an eyebrow in a partial scowl.

More memories follow the first images. You remember the gentle grasp of loving claws picking you up off the ground. You hear the chiding voice of your adoptive, Daxy mother. “I’ve got you, Miles.” 

Your father’s tone loses all levity. “When we were locked up with the other men, I-” he swallows. “-I could barely sleep at first. Your mother’s image filled my mind, accusing me-” His mouth twitches in memory of the old, deep pain. “-accusing me of not doing more.”

“What could you have done?” 

He falls quiet. The two of you listen to the rush of liquid helium through the pipes.

“I don’t know.” He glances downward, before meeting your eyes once more. “If it wasn’t for Nyx—” After a moment’s uncertainty, he finds his words— his voice impassioned. “She raised you. She saved your mother and sister from being murdered. When I was broken, she held me close and put me back together.” He sits straight, and faces you fully. “Son, Nyx sacrificed everything for you— for us. There are not many women, human or Daxy, who love enough to do that.” 

You’re silent at his words. You could think of one other woman like that.

“You know what? You should call her ‘Mom’.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen. “I mean, I’d be happy to, but-” 

“She’d love it,” he says. “-And she may not be your biological mother, but I can’t think of anyone who’s more deserving of that title.”

“You’re right.” You look up at the ceiling. “’Mom’…” Such a small, strange word. “I’m going to call her ‘mom’.”

Your musing is interrupted by a firm hand on your shoulder. “You should’ve had a real family growing up— now we will.” He projects positivity, yet you detect subtle uncertainty. “Assuming you and Rax have any need for us when you have your own children.”

“Dad…” you groan.

He snickers with devious satisfaction. “I’m kidding, of course; there is no way you could deprive Nyx and I of time with our future grandkids.” 

You groan again. “Dad-” 

Mercifully, Nyx saves you from further embarrassment. “We just read a pressure spike from the synchrotron. We’re getting steady throughput on the system.” Her voice played through Adrian’s folded-up AR glasses, just loud enough to hear over the noise of the awakening systems. “Just flipped on the Condensers. Watch out down there.” 

The helium must’ve completed a full loop through the system. Now, you needed to know how each component in the system would fare with the Echo’s own cryogenic system hooked in. This was the most critical part of the test. 

Your father blinks, redirecting his focus to the PDA in his lap. He squints critically at the figures on the screen, reverting from gentle father to clinical analyst in an instant. “Nyxi, are you seeing this?”

You lean over to see what hes’ referring to. The pressure sensor for the fusion reactor, the cyclotron, and synchrotron are fluctuating withing their operating range. The indicators are plummeting and rising within their respective gauges, but never stopping in the center of the ideal, green range. 

Disappointing, but not unexpected.

“The system isn’t stable,” Nyx responds.

Dr. Penn nods. “We’ll give it another minute to reach steady-state.” Despite his squinted expression, his voice was full of warmth when speaking to your mom.

You notice that her voice seemed to give your father life, even if the news was bad.

Nyx had comforted you so many time. You think of your departure from Orphan-9, when she hugged you for as long as you needed. ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You had said to her— your mom. 

Dr. Penn’s muscles tighten as the test becomes a tense waiting game. The indent where the Administrator’s platinum collar had once had its hold on him stands out against otherwise unmarred skin. 

“I don’t know if it’s getting much better,” Nyx says.

“Another minute and we’ll call it. We need to gather as much data as possible to start running some flow simulations.” Your father crooks his neck ever so slightly, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

You catch some faint marks near the base of his neck, hidden just behind his sky-blue shirt collar. Though just visible to you, the faint, curved arrangements of horizontal scars must be years old. 

‘You know what a scaly bitch will do to you when she finally digs her claws in?’

The words ringing in your mind were of a conversation you had with Finn months ago; he had been trying to convince you to dodge your assignment.

‘…No, these aren’t just stories. Trust me, man.’

There were few plausible explanations for your father’s hidden scar.

‘…Yeah, well what if you end up with a psycho anyways?’

Mom probably didn’t do that to him. The scar was too old to be recent mark of her claim. It also would’ve been a suicidal gesture to do it nine years ago, before she ceded him to the Administrator. 

You avert your eyes from his neck, anxious to hide your new awareness. 

Paxi. 

Your other step-mother.

You frown. When in the presence of your father’s optimism, it was easy to forget that he had children with the most powerful woman in the Solar System, and the singular touch-stone between humanity and their caretakers.

Your father taps impatiently at his PDA in a regular, anxious rhythm. His back straightens against the pipe behind you, clearly ignorant of your discovery.

Axla might’ve had the glory, but it was Paxi who held the Earth in her claws. At her command, the world was hunting for your father, your friends, and you.

You had felt fear and anxiety when contemplating the reality of the Administrator’s hunt for you before, but looking at your father, all you feel is sadness. 

“The pressures aren’t jumping around as much.” Nyx observes. “We still have a few more minutes before a complete cycle.”

Your father unconsciously pulls up at his shirt collar, near his hidden bite-marks. “Hey Nyxi, have you thought anymore about what you’re gonna give me when we get to Zion to show everyone that we're together?”

"I might have an idea or two, why?" Nyx responds, her tone low. “Aren’t you getting a little distracted, angel?” Her chastisement was playful.

Your father flusters.

One day, you are going to ask him about Paxi, and your half-siblings. 

Maybe when we’re out of this mess.

“How about you, Miles?” Rax speaks instead of Nyx, and her voice through the comm is enough to stir you from your thoughts. Unlike her usual forcefulness, she’s almost timid. “We’re mates, right? What do you want?”

You look to your father, but he just shrugs and holds out his AR glasses to you to speak into. 

“I was thinking something golden, or— fuck, I love the color of your eyes. I know Colonel Cunt had the same idea, but—” She hesitates. “Oh, sorry Doc Nyx, Christians don’t like swearing, right? Sorry.” 

“It’s alright, Fesyx.” Your father responds kindly.

Despite your fight with Rax and the tense few days which followed, she was trying.

You still felt her love for you every night, but recently, she has held you much tighter as you slept. Gone was the relaxed confidence which usually accompanied your intimacy.

“I want something that screams, ‘He’s mine!’. Everyone needs to know that you’re under my protection," Rax mused. “And for my own mark, I was thinking of getting a piercing in my frills… like my aunt at her Joining.”

Nyx butts in at the idea. “A ‘shaxlix’? I admit, I’ve considered one myself.”

Markings usually only came when a Joining had been celebrated properly. Sadly, you doubt that any of you had the time right now for a week-long celebration.

“How about a necklace for me?” you suggest. "You know, for my token."

There’s a moment of silence.

“No collar?”  

“I mean, that was my first thought, but-” You click your tongue. Rax is ever the traditionalist. “Well, I just thought it’d be a little more comfortable.”

“How about… a tight necklace? We’ll make sure its got plenty of padding on the inside, but it’d be a shame to put one of those dinky little chains around your neck.”

You and your father look at each other, sharing a look of confusion. 

“Nah, I want to treat you like you deserve and get you a nice golden band. It could even have those ‘blue tourmalines’ Colonel Cu- Axla Assho-” She cycles through titles. “Damn it!” Your mate had worked herself up. “The rocks the mate-stealing bitch was going on about!” 

All of her names for Axla were equally endearing, apparently. 

Rax huffs. “Sorry, Doc Nyx. I tried to keep it clean, but I just don’t know what to call her.” 

Your father seems more amused than offended. “It’s the effort that counts, Fesyx.”

You blink, not as entertained as him. “Rax, did you remember the name of the gemstone in Axla’s collar… for me?”

“I might want to shoot her into the sun, but she was right, they do look exactly like your eyes.” Your mate is calm again. “I hope you don’t mind if I put them in your coll-” she stops. “Sorry, I mean your ‘tight necklace’.”

Before you respond, your father’s PDA beeps. “Nyx, how’s it looking on your end?” He asks.

“Looks like the cycle is complete.” Nyx responds promptly. “Head loss is in the expected range you predicted. System isn’t picking up any leaks or failures...”

Good, at least you wouldn’t all suffocate in helium today.

“Perfect.” Your father sighs with relief. “The pressures in each subsystem were all over the map, but-”

“That’s what we expected.” You finish his sentence. “Right?”

He nods, resolute. “We’ll need at least six of us to manually tweak the system, still, but we have the people.” He unfolds his gold-trimmed glasses and slips them back onto his face. “I’ll get flow simulations running immediately and see if we can tweak things to make them run a little smoother.” He quickly rises from the ground and extends his hand to you. 

You accept your Dad’s larger hand with your own, and he helps pull you onto your feet. “We get the Echo’s reactor hooked up, and we're done with the modifications, right?"

Your father's glasses illuminate his face in a familiar blue glow. “We will want to practice the black-start to make sure we get it right, but watch, we’ll be walking through that Bridge before you know it."

“Right.” You frown.

“Son this is good news! We’re almost there.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and shakes you a little.

Without Rax constantly at your side, the past few days have felt like a blur. Although you disagreed with her, you still needed her. After your time together, the prospect of not being in Rax’s arms as you fell asleep was the stuff of nightmares.

Yet things could not continue as they were. 

What could you do? Who could help you?

God, what do I do?

“Dad-” You meet your father’s watchful eyes. “Can we talk?” 

Nyx propped herself up on the control panel, made a little too short for the Daxy’s stature. The last of the liquid helium rushing beneath her feet cleared from the pipes.

At her side, Rax stood overlooking the main synchrotron ring on the bottom floor of the NEC.

The elder Daxy watched the young pilot carefully. “Your tail’s practically in knots, Rax.” She decided to forgo the military titles. “What’s wrong?” She knew, but she had to ask; it wasn’t worth causing more friction in their group.

Rax’s frills stood on end, as if she had been caught in some embarrassing act. It took a few moments for her slumped form to straighten out.

“Miles is going to get himself killed,” Rax said, looking straight ahead. 

“Do you really think that?”

The young pilot’s scaled tail twisted about itself like a corkscrew. “He thinks he knows what he’s doing, but…” she gestures out at the brightly lit, blast-proof chamber of the main synchrotron ring. Then, her arm falls back to her side. “You know-” her sullen voice changes tone as she reminisces. “-I was born halfway into the Pyxilas War.” 

“Really?” 

Rax huffed. “Really.”

The war over the Ack’lii people was brutal. Unlike humanity, but similarly to the Daxy, their species suffered from the familiar problem of male scarcity. Their race had been around far longer than humanity had, too, and their foothold in two separate star-systems was relatively conservative, yet unyielding.

It wasn’t long before the ruthless women of that race came to understand the Daxy and, in desperation, had held their own men hostage. 

“Did you grow up before the second wave of the induction?” Nyx asks. “Do you remember it?” As the words left her lips, she feared she was too insensitive.

Rax nodded. “After my mom and dad met in the first assault, they lived on the World Bridge to the Pyxilas system.”

“Is your mother an Admiral?” Fesyx was an old and noble name. Though recognizable, Rax’s family was lower in status than the families of the Core Systems. 

Rax shifted uncomfortably at her words, her eyes flicking away. “Yes.” She held her snout in her claws. “Shit, what was I even getting at? That’s right-” Rax starts again. “I was just a little newt when my mom heard back from High Command.”

It was hard to compare the cultural relevance in Daxy culture of any one species to another, but if there ever was a people as widely discussed as humanity in past decades, it was the Ack’lii. Unfortunately, it wasn't for their abundance of males.

What the women of the Ack’lii attempted made humanity seem submissive and accepting in comparison.

“My mom promised my father that she’d get all of us off that station…” In the lapses between Rax’s speech, the hum of the atmospheric control filled the silence. “She promised him that she’d build us a home on His world when the Empress decided to make it a Core World”

Nyx listened intently. 

She remembered that decree— a promise that the innumerable forces of the Imperial Fleet itself, and with the Empress at their head, would come to put down resistance. After those women stooped so low as to slaughter a million of their own in warning, anything which preserved them became justified. 

Nyx folded her arms and scoffed. “We weren’t going to let them genocide their own people for their ‘honor’.” She frowned, an old bitterness on her tongue. “No honor in what they did.” 

“Those bitches were insane.” Rax nodded without much emotional affect. She was deeply uncomfortable, but couldn’t muster the same hatred as Nyx, who had come of age during that time. “We found out pretty soon that my dad was lucky.”

“I’m sorry your mother didn’t get to build you that home.” Nyx’s knowing voice was full of sympathy. 

“Yeah, me too.” Rax’s terse expression was lopsided. Her tail dropped behind her. “When things took a turn… my Mom promised him instead that she’d save as many of his people as possible.” 

“She sounds like a noble woman.”

 Rax continued without comment. “We were one of the last ships through the Bridge when shit hit the fan. Even though my mom was just a Rear Admiral, she packed her own battleship with his people— twice. She even saved a few of their women who didn’t want to get cooked like desert-worm.”

“Most Daxy would’ve left all of those cowardly females for dead.” Despite the vitriol she felt for Ack’lii women at large, she couldn’t help but admire the altruism Admiral Fesyx displayed. “But maybe its good your mother didn’t.”

Rax absently ran a claw along the old switchboard for the cryogenic system. The in-use lights which were red during the test switched to green as the helium lines cleared. “When our ship went through, the entire crew of the World Bridge went with us.” She looked up and out onto the main floor behind the open blast-shield, as if the sight she described was on the other side of the glass. “Hundreds of escape-craft surrounded us as we went through.”

“Evacuating the Ack’lii is still the largest, single fleet-movement in our history,” Nyx said. “Compared to the rest of the evacuation fleet, I’m sure that crew wasn’t that impressive.” 

The edge of Rax’s maw perked upward. “We pulled a hundred million people out of there, but that was off of a planet.” She turned her head toward Nyx. “Even though I’d lived on the World Bridge itself, I didn’t really understand what it took to run that place until that moment.”

“Most of those are support staff.” Nyx said. “Besides-” she pointed out at the Needle’s Eye with a claw. “-the humans’ Bridge is nothing like one of ours.”

Rax nodded in assent, but her frown deepened anyways. “Are ours really better?”

“Better isn’t the right word.” Nyx turned to fully face the Flight Chief. “Ours are different— they’re made for different purposes. A direct comparison is not possible, nor is it meaningful.”

“That’s the kind of crap the person who has the worse shit says.” Rax’s tone was amused, but her golden eyes seemed distracted. “I mean, I watched one of their Bridges in action. One person was enough to run it, and they had it on the back of a truck.”

“Theirs is designed to travel locally, ours are meant to cross universes— or go to different parts of our own universe, depending on what physicist you ask.” Nyx took a step toward her younger peer, stopping just short of reaching out to hold her. “Where is all of this coming from, Rax?” she implored, stooping down to compensate for the slight height difference.

“I used to think humans were all rebellious for no reason, but… shit, they didn’t blow up their own star; they aren’t the Ack’lii.” She spoke of her paternal species with the perfected, harsh intonation of a native. 

“No, they are not.” Nyx said in gentle agreement.

“Exactly, and-” Rax leaned to one side. “Recently, I’ve had this thought that scares the shit out of me.” Her eyes drift toward the impressive technology on the other side of the blast shield. “From the moment I heard about them, I was convinced they would die without us, but— what if humans didn’t need us in the first place?”

“Rax-”

“Am I crazy for having that thought?” The Flight Chief interrupted before Nyx could properly respond.

“No, you are not.” Nyx’s response was resolute.

Humanity had a most impressive range of attributes and talents. The species as a whole were the very best in few areas, but stunningly proficient in many. They took to war easily like the Ack’lii, but nearly all of them preferred peace. They were curious like other races still, but not to the point of obsession and suicide. 

Still, that did not spare them from self-inflicted calamities.

“I was a part of the first survey fleet, back when we tried to win them over through diplomacy.” The metal slits of the raised blast-shield casted Nyx’s violet snout in discrete bars of light. “Before their Induction, most of their world was in ruins, Rax.” It pained the Commander to say as one who loved humanity, but her experience was undeniable. “The same differences which make humans so special had created division, turmoil, and decay which threatened them all.”

Rax nodded silently, though her tense expression and writhing tail denied her true feelings.

“If I wasn’t completely convinced that humanity would’ve been destroyed without us, I would've never stood for the things I saw.” Nyx’s leaned in close to Rax, earnest. “You understand? They needed us.”

“Fuck me, I thought so, but-” Rax quivered. What was once an absent musing had clearly become deeply personal. “Humans don’t even seem to want us! Miles- he doesn’t-” 

Nyx silenced the young Daxy with a claw on her shoulder.

“Our own people hurt some of humanity deeply— perhaps deeper than we will ever know.” Nyx inevitably thought of Axla, but pushed the image of the Colonel from her mind. “Although it isn’t an excuse for the crimes of our own, I promise you that humanity needs us as much as they ever have.” Nyx’s voice was gentle, but certain. “-And Miles needs you as much as you need him.”

Rax’s form quivered under Nyx’s touch, accepting it as if the Commander was her own mother. “Miles doesn’t need me.” She looked up at her. “I’m not even sure if he-”

“Don’t say that. You know he does.”

“Does he?” Rax’s tail stiffened and her bright, golden eyes narrowed. “Whenever I try to help or protect him, I just make things worse!” The blue scales of Rax’s face scrunched up and her spiny frills stood on end. ”He got injected with that Cunt’s pheromones and with that shit Finn gave him— but he won’t even talk to me about it!”

“He may not be ready yet.”

“Maybe.” Rax conceded, a foot forward. Her eyes glowed with intensity. “But when he almost died, he saw something, and it changed him.”

“Maybe.” Nyx echoed the pilot’s response. “But I know Miles. I know the way he looks at you and thinks of you. He may have experienced something he does not understand, or which troubles him, but he loves you. You just need to sit down and talk it out.”

“’Talk it out’?” Rax grumbled at the phrase. 

“Men can be cryptic— and a Penn even more so, believe me, I know— but Miles will listen to you.” Despite Rax’s frustration, the edges of Nyx’s snout perked upward. “You need to tell him these things; mate to mate, ‘pixil ex pixil’.”

Despite her obvious hesitance and skepticism, Rax’s tail flicked along the ground in acceptance. “Will he listen to me?”

“Would he ignore you? Miles fell in love with the woman you are, not the woman you wish you were.” Nyx squeezed her shoulder. “Rax, you might have rebelled against the Empire, but you’re still a Daxy.” Nyx hesitated, but encouraged her comrade with boldness. “Be who you are— the best version of who you are.”

The usually-certain Rax still wasn’t completely sold on the pep-talk, though she wanted to be. “You say it like its so easy.”

“Never said it would be easy, but it’ll be easier than you think.” Nyx withdrew her claw. “And more importantly, it’ll be worth it.”

The two of them fell silent as Rax mulled over her words with an intensity somewhere between thoughtful and total incredulity. 

“I guess I’ll try it,” the pilot said, her frills twitching before lying flat. “Thank you, Command-” 

“Nyx, please.” The older Daxy insists. “And remember, when a male’s pain runs deep, ‘badness’ is almost always ‘sadness’. Miles likely needs your comfort more than he ever has.”

“Yeah…” Rax’s frills twitch, before meekly flattening out over themselves. “Oh, and I’m sorry for uh-” she grimaces. “-mating with Miles so soon.”

“Just take care of him.” The command is really a concession. “Your concern for him is reassuring to me.”

“Really?”

“He was always going to pick you, Fesyx. Now, I’m glad that you picked him.” Nyx patted her shoulder one last time. “Speaking of, I’m going to go find my own male. Let me know if you need anything else, Rax.”

The Daxy pilot watched as Nyx turned to leave. Her maw hung open.

“I will,” Rax said quietly.

You frown, still contemplating the words of your father as you turn around a corner in the hall. 

You had to talk to Rax, but first, there were other matters to attend to.

“Shit!” Finn curses, his loud, but distant voice barely audible through the cracked door to the medbay straight ahead. 

Leaning against the concrete-paneled, reinforced earth of the wall, you take hold of the heavy steel door and push it open.

One of the beds about halfway down the right side of the familiar medbay has been made, with bedsheets haphazardly laid over the gray cushions. Two medical pillows are stacked on top of each other, half-way hanging off the side of the bed.

Finn is not in bed, however.

At the opposite end of the bay, the opaque, cloudy-glass door to the men’s bathroom has been left slightly ajar. 

You’re startled from your observations by a horrible retching from the same open door. Sounds like he’s coughing up a lung. 

You rush across the medbay as quickly as you can and walk into the bathroom.

“Finn!” The door slams against a doorstop as you fling it open. 

Besides a particular staleness to the air, the row of sinks, hand-driers, and paper-towel dispensers are in pristine condition. The transition-glass design of the door is reflected in the doors to each of the bathroom stalls. 

“I’m in here—” Finn’s weak voice comes from the biggest stall at the end of the bathroom. He barely manages three words before huffing in discomfort. 

You walk over to the stall door and push it open the rest of the way, the glass turning from opaque to clear.

“What the-” 

Luckily, Finn hasn’t missed the toilet. His pale, sweaty form is hunched over the porcelain.

You squint in the simulated sunlight of the bathroom, crouching down just behind him. “Are you okay?” You decide on a better question. “How bad is it?” 

“Not as bad as it looks.”

Whatever is in the toilet looks almost black. “You sure? That looks awful.”

“Not the meth withdrawal.” He shakes his head, before slowly turning around to face you. “Withdrawal isn’t that physical like opioids, remember?”

Your friend looks like death. Beads of sweat trail down his unnaturally pale face. The dark color of his short beard makes his skin look that much more sickly. His hair is messy and sweat-soaked. The white jumpsuit loosely hugging his form is wrinkled, but, mercifully, is still clean.

You tear off some toilet paper from the roller mounted to the side of the stall, and hand it to him. “Sure looks physical to me.”

“I did this.” He gratefully cleans up some of the remaining mess around his mouth. “All this is from my solution to problem, not the problem itself.” Looking up at you, he squints in the bright, simulated sunlight of the bathroom. Compared to the medbay outside, this place is astoundingly bright thanks to diffuse light panels embedded high into the tile.

“Solution?” You glance at the toilet pointedly. “Does eating sharpies help with meth withdrawal?”

He chuckles weakly at your words, despite wanting to communicate what’s really going on.

“Mitragyna Speciosa,” he says, as if it makes all of this obvious. “It’s a plant. The doctors took most of the real medications when Zion left, but one of ‘em must’ve been into ‘natural’ medicine.” He looks down, avoiding your eyes. “There was a huge bag of it in the freezer. I mixed some in water and drank it to help with some killer headaches.”

“And what caused the headaches?”

“That one is the meth’s fault.”

“I see.” You purse your lips. “If this stuff is supposed to help, why the vomiting?”

"It worked-- the headache is gone." Finn removes one uneasy hand from the porcelain toilet, and brushes his matted hair out of his eyes. “I took too much on an empty stomach, that’s all.” He frowns deeply. “It was also supposed to help my mood—” he shakes. “—Miles, it was getting really bad.”

You sense the desperation in his voice. I’m sorry, Finn. Despite your feelings, Finn wouldn’t accept your pity. “Do you need anything?” you ask simply.

Finn reaches up, waving his hand over an infrared sensor. The toilet flushes down the unseemly mixture a short second later.

“Zofran and a glucose-electrolyte mix. I know I should’ve just started with them, but—” He stops his self-chastisement. “Anyways, they’re by the table-centrifuges.”

You start to walk out, but Finn continues to instruct. 

“By the black bag and a gross-looking mug!” He gestures the approximate, foot-long size with his two hands. “The electrolyte mix is blue and in a clear bottle. The Zofran is small and in a silver blister-pack.”

“Got it.” You rush out of the bathroom, the stall door squeaking as it shuts behind you. Knowing where the centrifuges are from your first visit here, you walk to the third table from the end of the medbay. 

On the opposite end of the short table from the three white centrifuges, there’s the black bag. It is still open. You peak inside and its full of a fine, green powder. Next to it is a mug and a teaspoon. The mug is covered in the same veneer of dark-green plant-matter that was in the toilet. 

You pick up the one-liter bottle and the little blister pack next to it. The contents of the bottle look like the blue electrolyte mix the Daxy served on Orphan-9. 

For someone in desperate conditions, and what was clearly no small amount of misery, your best friend is surprisingly organized and thorough when it came to his medicine. 

Then again, the Daxy choose few young men to work, and even fewer to become surgeons, which was viewed as a high-pressure and female occupation. To be chosen for specific training, like yourself or Finn were, you would need to perform above the ninety-eighth percentile on an aptitude exam. Otherwise, general schooling would be seen as enough. 

Barring few exceptions, the Empire viewed males working an occupation as mistreatment when your rightful duty was in the home.

You walk back into the bathroom and into the end-stall with the drink and pill. You hand them both to your friend, who manages a slight smile. 

“Thanks-” In a matter of seconds, he cracks open the drink and chugs a good fourth of it down. Right afterward, he breaks open the blister pack to push out a tiny white pill. “You came at just the right time.” 

“I see that.” 

Finn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He slips the white pill under his tongue, and shifts it around in his mouth. “Alright-” he exhales. “-the nausea should be gone in just a bit.”

“Do you need something to eat?” You lower yourself to the ground to be at his level, putting your back to the cold, tile wall.

Your friend nods. “Yes, but not for awhile.” Finn opens his eyes. “Fuck, that was bad.” He looks up, expecting to find you standing over him. He redirects his vision downward, where you’re leaned up against the wall. “How did the cryogenic test go?”

“Good,” you say. 

“So not great?” He crooks his head. “Shit, Miles, you don’t sound excited.”

“Everything worked as expected, but we were hoping we wouldn’t have to do as much work as we originally feared.” You bring your knees in close and clasp your fingers together. “We’re much closer, but we still need to do simulations.”

“If its what we expected, how is that a problem?”

“The computer simulations aren’t the problem.” Your frown deepens. “My dad is tweaking some of the simulation software right now with the data we gathered. It should let us practice the start-up of the Needle’s Eye.” 

“Oh, so you mean we’ll have to… try out our actual jobs?” He clears his throat with a grunt. “Like a dry run?”

“Like a dry run.” You affirm. “We’re hoping to do it by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Do you have enough people? I remember from that meeting a few days ago that this’ll need all of us.” His voice is almost guilty. 

“It’d be ideal, but-” You realize what he’s really asking you and rephrase. “Don’t worry about it, Finn. You’ve got plenty to worry about.”

“I can help if I have to.” He straightens his back for show. “Just give me the word, and I’ll do whatever you need to help get us out of here.”

You don’t have the contemplate his offer for long. “Sorry, but you’re the patient this time, not just the doctor.” Your voice is firm. “We need you to get better more than we need you to help us.”

“Okay.” His eyes sag. “I just—” He’s at a loss, and lacking his usual coarseness.

“What is it?”

“I-” he exhales heavily, finally saying what is on his mind. “If the rest of you are going to be busy getting this thing right, I’d rather be there with you than alone up here.” His eyes glisten with desperation.

“Well-” you stiffen. You’re silent as you think over your options. The occasional check-in had been enough for him in the past few days, but it looked like Finn’s condition was worsening. “We technically only need six.” 

“What’re you suggesting?”

“The Daxy in our group would never live it down if I got a sick male to help, anyways.” You say dryly. “What if Ruth came up here?” you ask, looking back in his direction. “I’m sure she’d rather watch her brother than help us.”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Not a bad idea, but-” he glances down, then back at you. “-Miles, I haven’t told her what’s going on yet.” 

Before you can respond, he is quick to explain.

“I- I wanted to, but I’d rather be able to tell her that I’m clean. You know, when all this is over?” Some of the color has returned to his face. “She thinks that I’m just sick like everybody else.” He reaches up to comb his messy hair more completely. 

You sigh. “What do you want instead, then?” You try to avoid passing judgment. Who’s to say what you would’ve done in his position. “I’m sure you could crash in in the control room while we work, or something.”

With no small amount of hesitation, his chapped lips part. “How about Alice?” Finn suggests, his voice low. “Could you spare her?”

“Finn…” Your mouth parts, but no more words come.

“Miles, please.” His emerald eyes widen with intensity. “I’m miserable. I’ve done things to try and make it better, but—” The simulated sunlight of the bathroom casts the left side of your friend’s face in bright light, and the right side in soft shadow. “She can help me.”

You don’t know what to say. Her or her pheromones?

“I’ve felt like trash because of my mom for my entire life.” Finn’s voice is both desperate and defensive as he continues. “My dad, my step-mom, Nyx-” He clenches a fist. “All of them tried to help me, and nothing worked.” He shakes his head, nearly choking on his words. “At first, I thought the Daxy only made it worse, but-”

You listen intently.

“But not Alice. She-” He shudders, his squinted eyes widen, letting in the bright light of the sterile bathroom. “-she makes me feel like I’m worth something. The way she looks at me, the way she talks to me— it’s different— she is different.”

“If Ruth finds out about this—” you hesitate, but you have to bring it up. “Finn, I’m not saying this is the wrong choice, but your sister will never forgive you if you tell a Daxy the truth instead of her.”

“You think I haven’t thought about this?” Finn grimaces, clearly pained. “The past few days have been a nightmare, Miles. For all the shit you’ve been through, doesn’t Rax help you through it?”

“Yes.” Your lips purse together and your eyes lose focus. “She does.”

“See?” He points at himself. “I’ve had nothing to do but think up here, and the truth is that I haven’t been fair to Alice in the past. She’s done so much for me, and I-” he sniffles. “-I care about her.”

“I’ll do what you want, Finn, but—” You manage to flash a cheeky smile, wanting to lighten the conversation. “I thought you didn’t want me selling you my ‘religion’?”

Finn cuts you off with a groan as if to say, ‘give me a break’. Regardless, some of the tension visibly drains from his face. “We’re still just friends, Miles.” 

He’s clearly made his choice. “Right.” You stand up and extend a hand toward him, as if to pull him up.

He puts up a hand instead of accepting yours. “I think I’m going to sit here for a bit longer while the Zofran kicks in, just to be safe.”

You let your arm drop back to your side. “I’ll let Alice know-”

“Thank you.”

“-on one condition. I need to know that you’re willing to live with this decision.” You exhale knowingly, folding your arms over your chest. “In a week or two when you’re feeling better, you’re not going to kill me for letting you do this, right?”
 
The edges of his lips perk upward with an unbecoming sincerity. “You’re the one who’s taught me to live without regrets.” 

“Thanks,” you mutter, finally turning to leave. I think.

Chapter Text

Alice put a claw on the heavy door to the medbay. “Finn?”

There was no reply. 

She pushed the steel door open. The lighting inside was dim; the low-light setting for sleeping patients was probably on. 

The battleship she served on during the first wave of the invasion had a similar feature on its medical deck.

She opened her maw, but didn’t speak. He might be asleep. She stepped through the door and looked around, a padded, mylar bag hanging from one of her hands.

Other than the less-advanced medical technology, the split between medical lab and hospital wing was a familiar concept; one she’d had the misfortune of experiencing personally and intimately after her injury in the Battle of Los Angeles.

Her golden eyes surveyed the room, searching carefully for her human target. “Finn?” she said, quieter. 

She heard a faint grumbling. The sound came from behind a curtain which hid one of the many medical beds from sight.

There you are. She walked about thirty meters, stopping just under halfway down the length of the bay. Alice turned to her right, and appraised the blue curtain between her and Finn.

Gotcha. She took hold of the folds of the curtain, before throwing it to her side. The light veil slid effortlessly down the rail above, revealing Finn’s little abode.

“I know you’re a doctor, but I think you’re taking the term ‘residency’ too literally.” Alice’s tail swished behind her.

Finn was lying on his side. He rolled onto his back and slowly opened his squinted eyes. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” Alice added, apologetic. 

“No, no-” Finn sat up, his hair sticking up. “I’m happy you’re here.” He tried for a smile, but was simply too tired to pull it off convincingly.

No teasing? What did Miles do with the real Finn?

“I’m happy to be here too.” Alice rolled a portable nightstand away from the darkened medical equipment around Finn, and toward her. “Speaking of-” Alice picked up the plastic tray from the little table in her claws. “I brought you something.”

“You did?” Finn watched with interest as his Daxy companion dumped his wrappers and half-eaten rations into the nearby trash. “Did Miles tell you what was going on?”

Alice’s smile remains. “Other than the fact that you needed some food and some company?” She set her bag down on the nightstand and shook her head. “He said you were sick and wanted to talk to me about it, that’s all.” She put the cleared tray on Finn’s lap. 

Finn glanced down at the tray on his lap. “I do.” 

Alice crooked her snout. The human was usually self-assured and brash, but now a meekness exuded from every movement and expression. 

It was all still very Finn, but something had changed.

“And there’s no place I’d rather be, but-” Alice lowered into one of the chairs at Finn’s bedside. “-you didn’t want your sister to be here instead?” The seat was a little small, but at least it had a hole for her tail.

“Ruth?” He sat up until he was sitting criss-cross. The messy sheets of his bed slid down his torso to reveal the white jumpsuit around his body. “I love her, but honestly, she’s not the lovey-dovey type.” 

“Is that what you want?” Alice asked with a cheeky smile. “Someone to dote on you?”

“Nah.” He shrugged, reciprocating her smile. “I just don’t want to get tied down again.”

“How do you know I won’t do that?” She flashed her teeth and narrowed her eyes with comical malice.

“Alright, scales, don’t push it.” He said with feigned distaste, leaning away from her. 

The two of them enjoyed the riposte, but not for long.

Finn’s smile faded. His eyes moved from Alice, and he stared off at the opposite wall. His green eyes widened in an moment of inexplicable anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” Alice scooted forward in her seat. Thanks to her larger size, she was nearly at eye-level with Finn. 

Finn’s lip quivered. “I’m trying to get better.” He said.

“Better?”

“I had my last dose of methamphetamine more than seventy two hours ago,” Finn spoke of his sobriety with an emotion closer to horror than satisfaction. He looked back to the Daxy at his bedside. “I’ve been keeping it together up until now, just waiting it out while you guys work, but..." He shifts, uncomfortable. "Today, the withdrawal got a lot worse.”

“You are sick."  

“Yes, but-”

“There is no ‘but’, Finn.” She was insistent.

The young human furrowed his brow. “It isn’t like cancer or lupus— I did this to myself.” He spoke with stinging bitterness. He clenched at the sheets of the bed with a hand. “There’s no one, and nothing else I can blame.”

“Not even the Daxy?” 

His voice quieted, unable to keep up the energy to yell. “No, not even the Daxy.”

“What the Empire did to your people is inexcusable,” Alice said, somber. “We put you through hell. All you did was try to cope.” 

“That doesn't make it right." He slouched in his upright position, looking down at his clenched hands. "I don't know; maybe we would’ve just killed ourselves without you. Maybe we really did need someone to save us.” He fell limply to the mattress and turned to his side. 

Alice was silent.

“I wanted to have pride in my identity— to believe that humanity was better and stronger, but the truth is that the Daxy treated me better than humanity ever did.”

Alice’s frown deepened. She didn’t know if he really believed that, but the fact that he was entertaining it said much of his condition.

Finn continued. “It doesn’t excuse the crimes of evil fuckers like Axla, but to say it’s not true about most of the Daxy in my life would be a lie. All you ever did was try to take care of me and help me.” His eyes were glued to the tiled ceiling above.

Alice maw parted at his indirect compliment. She always wanted his racial animosity softened, but him turning that animosity inward made the moment more bitter than sweet.

“Maybe humanity did need help, and maybe you needed the Daxy, even.” She stood from her seat. “There’s nothing wrong with needing help.”

Finn remained quiet as Alice took a few tentative steps toward his bedside.

Her orange scales glowed in the low-light. “-But we were so desperate for mates that we abused your weakness when you needed an ally-" She shook her head. “-not a master.”

“We deserved it.” Finn’s eyes threatened to shut. His self-criticism was quiet but relentless. “We’re vain, and we're weak, and we’re blind, and-"

Alice's claws brushed Finn's cheek, silencing him in an instant.

"You didn’t deserve any of it, Finn.” You deserved better. “Your people are strong and courageous. You’re—” She held the human's face as she searched for the words. “You’re beautiful.” 

Finn avoided Alice’s gaze with his own reddened eyes. Moisture trailed down his flushed cheeks.

“If you can forgive my people for what we did to you-” Alice’s claws moved down to his chin, tilting his face toward her. The tough scales on her claws darkened with his tears. “Why can’t you forgive yourself?”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Why not?”

His eyes glazed over. “Everyone who’s ever tried to help me--” He struggles to hold back unseen waves of emotion. With his face tilted towards her's, he could only look past Alice, rather than away from her. “All I’ve ever done is hurt them.”

Alice remained quiet and stroked his face with her scaly hand, encouraging him to continue. His restlessness and inner turmoil had become apparent on his very features. 

Finn shut his eyes, not resisting the Daxy’s affectionate touch. “My step-mom-” he said, finally. “She tried to give my dad and I a real home, and you know how I repaid her?”

Alice was quiet as Finn met her eyes again. 

“One day, I just grabbed her plasma pistol and-” He gritted his teeth. “-and I shot her.” He channeled the anguish of that moment. “I shot her.”

Alice’s eyes softened. She watched him intently. “Finn…” 

“She screamed, and she screamed, and I—” A fresh flow of tears came forth and he shook. “I tried to look away to make it better, but I just cried- I wouldn’t stop crying. My father came in and tried to help her but-” His bloodshot eyes widened further. His speech grew more pained and disjointed. “I thought I killed her! I thought I- I-”

“Sh… Everything’s alright.” Alice leaned in close. “Can I hold you?”

Finn breathed rapidly. His bleary eyes made him look lost, until they finally fell on Alice. He nodded to the Daxy.

At his response, the nearly seven-foot Alice rolled into bed beside the sickly human.

Finn slid backward to try and make room. There wasn’t much space leftover, but the medical bed was wide enough for them to lie together. 

Once she was settled and facing him, she wrapped her muscled arms around Finn’s lanky body. Alice had kept a foot or so between them out of respect for his boundaries, but the space closed quickly. 

Finn used his desperate grip on the Daxy to pull himself against her. He buried his face in the her chest.

Alice inhaled sharply, angling her maw down to speak into his ear. “You’re safe.” Her gentle claws ran through his hair, combing the mess and setting it in order as the wetness on his cheeks soaked into her chest. “No one is going to hurt you," she promised.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” his voice was muffled by the mountain of flesh embracing him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Her arm moved from his shoulders down to the small of his back. His withdrawal must’ve left him more vulnerable than he ever could've anticipated. Filled with compassion, she held him tight. “You were just a child-”

“I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”

“Pain?” Alice pulled Finn away from her to make eye contact with him. She chuckled. “Frustration, maybe, but not pain.” Her claws moved down from his now-combed hair and gripped at his chin. “The only thing that hurts is seeing you in pain.”

“Why?” His once-anguished expression fluctuated in a slew of contradictory emotions. “You’re-” he struggled. “Why are you so good to me?” 

She fixed her gaze on his emerald eyes. “When the Colonel left us for dead in the cold, the only thing you worried about was saving my life.” She scratched at his scruffy chin. “You ran with your friend and stuck by his side when you had little to gain and everything to lose.” 

“But I’m broken.”

“We’re all a little broken, Finn.” Alice’s tone left no room for debate. “If you’re worried about being hurt or having scars—” The end of her shortened tail curled around Finn’s waist. “—you’re in good company.”  

Finn didn’t respond. His tense body relaxed a little, but it was hard to gauge his exact reaction when his face was obscured by her chest.

“You know the worst part about knowing you?” She tilted her snout downward, rubbing its blunt, hardened end through his hair. “You don’t know just how great you really are.” She scratched at the back of his head lightly. “But I do. I see you, Finn.”

He sniffled and shuddered against her while the grip of his clenched hands loosened. He breathed her in without reservation.

“I knew how great you were from the moment I met you in the General’s office.” Alice felt the negative emotion of her partner draining from him as he melted in her muscled arms. “I didn’t run from my last gig just because of how cute you were, you know.”

“Your old boss was such an asshole.” Finn barely managed a chortle in the comedown of his emotional torment. “Can’t believe he convinced Miles and I to wear those fucking robes.” His laugh intensified, a deep catharsis revealing itself.

“Don’t forget: You also shaved your stomach to be more… appealing.” Alice punctuated her humorous jab with a quick squeeze of his clothed stomach. 

“Hey, hey!” Finn laughed suddenly, sliding backward reflexively.

“Are you ticklish?” Alice nearly gasped at the revelation. “You’re ticklish.” 

“No, don’t get any ideas!” He backed up into the rail on the opposite side of the bed. “Hey, hey-”

“I love that in a man-” Alice’s evil grin widened, and she licked at her lips. “-especially a human.”

“Of course you love humans!” The looming threat of being tickled was clearly pressing on him. “You’re a freak!” 

The Daxy antagonist raised her claws. “I mean, I came to Earth for a reason, didn’t-”

The two of them fell silent as their eyes met, and their humorous game was forgotten in an instant. 

Alice nearly lost herself in the human’s emerald eyes. Though he looked tired and ill, he looked up at her with a new innocence. The change brought with it an unseen force in them— made free at last. 

This tension replaced both the humor and the pain which preceded it.

No, not tension. Attraction.

Without saying a word, they leaned in close to each other. 

Alice gripped at Finn’s pristine white jumpsuit with her claws as their lips met. A light growl formed in the back of her throat as she pressed his lips against her scales. 

He eagerly returned the embrace, holding to his reptilian companion with near-desperation. His tongue prodded at her thin, sealed lips.

She gently twisted her snout away to break their contact. 

Both of them breathed heavily, rubbing nose-against-snout intimately.

Alice kept her lips close, despite pumping the breaks on their coupling. “Finn, wait.” She held him back with her tight grip on his suit, feeling his hot breath against her face. “Finn, you’re not in the best spot right now. I don’t know if we should-” 

“You’re not taking advantage of me,” He assured. “I want this. I’ve wanted this. Don’t you?”

“More than anything.” She swallowed. “But there won’t be any going back.”

“I know.”

“You’ll be mine.”

“I know, Alice.”

All of her qualms about proceeding with the willing human were silenced with another forceful kiss. 

-----NOTE: A BIT OF EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD-----

With a sudden burst of energy, Finn leapt on top of Alice. He leaned in to hold his lips to her snout, kissing at the seam in her maw with unpracticed, but endearing eagerness.  

Despite Finn being smaller and lighter, Alice let him take the position. One claw tightened around his back, while she trailed the other up to hold his cheek. She held his face in her possessive claws. 

Instinct made Alice’s heart stir with powerful, sudden emotions. Mine. Her claws tightened around the human. “Mine.” She mumbled her affection into their kiss, before reciprocating Finn’s efforts. 

Finn hummed with surprise as Alice shot her tongue into his mouth, like a predator striking her prey. His elbows quivered beneath him as Alice’s pheromones filled his senses with sweetness. 

It wasn’t like the rush of methamphetamine across the blood-brain barrier he was accustomed to; it was more like the gentle embrace of a lover. The subtle chemistry multiplied existing positive emotions, and diminished the storm of negative emotions which had wracked him.

Alice coiled her tongue around Finn’s. Her tail writhed in delight at the sight of Finn’s eyes nearly rolling back from just a kiss.

With Finn’s legs and arms threatening to give out completely, Alice suddenly took hold of Finn’s sides. The both of them retreated with reluctance, and their lips disconnected with a pop. 

Finn worked to keep his eyes focused on Alice, his lips smeared with her spit.

“You look so damn cute, Finn.” Alice bit her lip. With one hand flat against his chest, she supported nearly all of his weight. With the other hand, she reached up to brush his messy hair aside, doting on him even as she teased him. 

“Only for you.” Finn said, his eyes dreamy. He glanced down at his chest, where his lover suspended his weight with a hand. “You know I don’t like getting carried, Scales.” He flustered at the display of her disproportionate strength as he teased her back.

“Oh, my bad.” Her grin was wicked. “Let me fix that.” 

“Ah!” 

Alice flipped Finn over in a flash, and the hospital bed groaned with the shifting weight. “Gotcha.” She took both of his wrists in a single claw and pinned them above his head. 

Finn squirmed against his captor. “Let me go, Scales.” He returned her smile, even as he resisted with his token effort. “You’ll never defile me.” 

Alice clicked her tongue, chiding. “Now, now…” Their familiar game of cat-and-mouse took on new meaning. “Resistance isn’t in your nature— you’ll be a good boy for me, right?”

“Fuck that. I’m saving myself for a woman of my own race.” Finn’s defiant expression cracked as he resisted laughter. 

“Oh, you are?” Alice said, incredulous. She laughed cruelly, slipping further into-character. “I don’t think so.”

“You think that’s funny, Scales?” 

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “I expect you to address me by name, my mate.” Her tail angled through her legs, curling downward. It ran teasingly over his crotch.

Finn grit his teeth with the sensation. “That's what you want?” He brought his face as close as he could to his antagonist, which wasn’t far with his wrists pinned by a claw, and his legs pinned by her thighs. “Make me, Scales.”

“Oh, you’ll be screaming my name, love.” Alice growled at the challenge. “-But you’re free to appreciate my scales, too.” She surprised herself at the sincerity of her act, though her excitement was real— very real. “Axillis knows I love that skin of yours.” 

Finn inhaled unevenly through clenched teeth as Alice leaned in to lick and kiss at his neck.

She pushed his white jumpsuit down with her snout to nibble at his collarbone. “Let me know if I go too far, or if you want me to stop.” She whispered between her nips and kisses. “I want you to be comfortable.” She gently rubbed the tip of a talon along his palm, even as she pinned his hands. 

“I am comfortable,” he reassured her even as she continued her assault. “Don’t-” He gasped. “-don’t stop, Alice.”

“What?” Alice domineering persona returned, taking cruel advantage of their out-of-character exchange. “You want to repeat that, love?” Her fearsome eyes flicked up at the human’s own, and she gently tugged at his skin with her incisors. 

Finn writhed, stifling a moan. He was partially successful, but he couldn’t stop a slight whimper from escaping his tense lips. 

“No, that wasn’t it.” Alice’s voice was nonchalant. “It was something similar, though.” She trailed her snout counter-clockwise along his collar bone, before inching up the opposite side of her lover’s face. “Don’t hold back,” she said. “Let me hear that pretty voice, Finn.” She nibbled at his earlobe, wearing at the last of his inhibitions.

Finn shook as Alice’s tongue swirled around the inside of his ear, and his mouth parted at last. “Alice.” He squirmed against his larger lover. “Alice…”

She hummed in delight at his defeat. A thought crossed Finn’s pheromone-filled mind as the Daxy fell onto her side, her arm wrapped around him 

Is this what it’s like to be conquered?

Alice mumbled into his ear. “I love you.” She squeezed at his wrists and his chest. “I love you, Finn.”

This was the only fight where surrender meant victory.

Finn turned to his side to face the Daxy. “Alice...” he muttered, reverent.

Not even bothering to keep up the act, they returned to making out. Alice released Finn’s wrists, and they grabbed and pulled at the other to strip off their clothes. Blue fatigues and a white jumpsuit fell to the tiled floor beside the bed. Alice and Finn were both left in nothing but their underwear. 

“You’re such a good boy.” Alice pulled out of their kiss. “My beautiful, good boy.” She hugged him tightly.

Finn whimpered in her grasp. Whatever fear and shame held him back had evaporated long ago. He wasn’t sure if he even cared that Alice was a Daxy or that Ruth would hate him being with her.

“Ah!” Finn broke from his haze and gasped as Alice worked a claw under his blue-patterned boxers. Cool scales wrapped around him, gently pulling at him. “Please-”

“I’ve got you.” Alice shushed him, and pulled him back into her chest. “Just let me take care of you, sweetness.”

Finn buried his face into her. 

“Hold onto me.” Alice hummed with satisfaction. “That’s it, baby.”

One of his arms curled around her neck, Alice’s soft frills twitching into the nook of his elbow with every pump of her claws. The other wrapped around her back, clutching tightly to her skin-tight, thermal under-layer.

“Fuck!” Finn breathed heavily of her scent, his world darkened by the stretchy material over her chest. “Ah, ple- plea-” Alice’s hold on him was melting his mind. 

“Sh...” Alice raked her talons through his hair, her other claws continuing to squeeze and pump at the human. “Your mate will take care of you.”

Soon, he fell silent. His eyes threatened to shut at the non-stop flood of endorphins. 

Alice peppered the top of his head with gentle kisses. “I’ll take care of everything.” She slicked back his hair with her tongue, grooming him as she worked at him below. 

Finn responded with a shiver. What was once an aching vacancy in his heart swelled to bursting. Perhaps his whole heart was filled with Alice— filled with nothing but her. “Alice-” he angled his head upward. “I’m close-” 

Immediately, she pulled her claw out of his boxers. “Not yet.”

Finn whined, his fingers digging into the stretchy thermal suit around her back. I sound like such a whore. 

Alice kissed his forehead and licked at his face, as if to rebuke his self-deprecating thoughts. “I’m sorry baby. I don’t want to make mess of your bed.” She bared her teeth in a grin. “Besides, wouldn’t it be such a waste?” 

Finn begrudgingly nodded to his partner. “I want to see you— all of you.” He dragged his lips along her covered chest, his fingers finding the zipper on the thermal under-layer. 

Alice’s tail tugged his boxers down. “I want to see you too.” 

If it was any other Daxy, Finn would never do any of this. There was no one but Alice that could make him this needy, neither Daxy nor human. The curves that he’d only stolen the occasional, shameful glance at in the past now enveloped him. 

Alice wasn’t an exotic oddity or attraction to gawk at, anyways.

Right now, she was everything.

Finn pulled the zipper at her back. He leaned in to kiss at her exposed arms, just below the cut-off of her skin-tight heat suit on her shoulders.

“Holy shit-” Alice grit her teeth as Finn worked his way down, pressing his lips to the tough scales of her bicep. “That’s it, mi pixli.” The Daxy briefly reverted to her low-born, native tongue, flexing her arm for her mate. 

As he worked at her suit with his hands, Alice’s claws came to assist. Soon, Finn’s boxers had been pulled off of his legs by Alice’s tail, joined shortly by her black thermal suit.

With both of them completely exposed, they openly took in the other.

Finn wasn't disturbed from his duties -- at least, not immediately. He shivered with delight at feeling Alice's tense cords of muscle flex with a power not found in the human body. Even merely clenching her claws, with each gentle kiss he left, made her muscles buldge by a few inches.

There was something so wonderfully exotic about his soft, human lips, paying tribute in physical affection to her hardened, alien scales. Eventually, he started using his tongue, but he did so sparingly. His reward was the sweet, maple-like pheromones in her arousal-induced sweat.

Finn then worked from his mate’s arms, down to her chest, breathing her in all the way. Her orange scales transitioned to a pale yellow on her front side, arrayed in neat, parallel lines from her breasts, down to the mound of her pelvis. Unlike the tough scales visible to all, these were soft and sensitive; a reality Alice made known every time Finn drew a grunt from her with his trailing lips. 

Alice’s tail wrapped around his waist, barely able to hold herself back from ravishing her mate. She watched him trailing down from her breasts to her hardened abs, conditioned by years of fighting, enforcing, and protecting.

“You really-” Alice grit her teeth at the sensation of the human’s little tongue against the definition of her eight-pack. “You really don’t mind that I’m a Daxy, do you?”

Even her teasing lifted Finn higher. He winked and planted more smooches on her belly, before continuing his course downward.

“Ah!” Alice’s tail wrapped around the human’s neck as he arrived at his query. She held him in place against her for a few excruciating, pleasurable seconds. 

Finn only hid himself further between her legs, burying his tongue and his face deep within her.

“Alright-” Alice hissed. “That’s enough teasing.”

“Hm!” Finn hummed in surprise as his lover sat up and took hold of him. 

In a flash, she flipped both of them over to be on top, reversing their positions. 

Alice crouched above Finn’s own excitement, ready to finally complete their union. “Your face is a mess again-” she teased, leaning in to run her tongue along his cheek. “-but that’s alright. I like you that way, love.”

Finn swallowed, before panting with his tongue out. If he had been under the influence of her pheromones before, he was nothing short of intoxicated now. 

Alice’s tongue completed a lap around his face, leaving the gaunt of his cheeks coated in saliva. “What do you want, baby?” Her hips lowered, but right as they made contact, she pulled away. Instead, she took hold of him with her claws, stroking at him with her hand.

Finn was shaken from his haze. “Ah!” He bit his lip. “Please,” he managed with a huff.

Alice bared her teeth. “You know what your mate wants to hear.” Her voice was both gentle, but forceful in a union of herself and her domineering persona.

Finn tried to buck his hips upward, but the soft side of a Daxy tail restrained his errant motion. “Please, Ali...” 

“Almost had it, mi pixli.” Alice took more pleasure in the playful taunting than she expected. “I thought you were ‘saving yourself’ for one of your kind?" She suspended her weight on her bent knees as she toyed with the human. 

Finn’s unfocused eyes trailed up Alice’s form in pure awe. “I don’t care. Maybe I should, but-” he choked on his words as he met her eyes. “I love you, Alice.”

The Daxy woman froze at his sincerity. She had expected him to play along, but instead, he had answered completely honestly.

Their game was over. 

She had won in a total victory.

Finn gently ran his hands along whatever length of tail was within his reach. He held to the limb lovingly. “Please, Alice-” he blinked moisture from his eyes. “I’m ready.” 

Their chase finally met its end.

"Take me," Finn said.

Alice trembled and her heart raced. “I could never resist those pretty eyes.” Despite her attempt at teasing confidence, her facade quickly collapsed as she lowered herself onto him. “Ah! Fuck!” 

As scales hit skin, Finn writhed from under his mate with a loud moan. The bed shook beneath them.

Alice was united with her love at last. “Close…” She mumbled, shaken with pleasure. “I need you close.” She leaned over to sit Finn up before her next stroke upward.

He cooperated eagerly, wrapping his arms around her naked back as she buried his face into her chest once more. Nearly every inch of his body was pressed to her usually-cool scales, yet every point of contact burned with heat. “Hold me, please.” 

On her next stroke upward, Finn’s fingers clung to her toned back muscles like an anchor in a storm. He blindly kissed at the soft scales of her chest.

“Mine.” Alice ran her tongue through his hair, before dropping back down “I- I’ve got you, love.” His vulnerability made her heart ache. At last, she knew with certainty that she understood her human. “I’m never letting you go. You know that, right?”

Finn nodded blearily. He had left the familiar entirely, his mind racked with sensation. He felt the burning pleasure of their union. He felt the tightening of Alice’s biceps; the Daxy holding him as close as she could. 

Somehow, she knew just how fast to go and just how tightly to hold her mate. Her calves and thighs flexed visibly, and the curved talons of her three-toed feet dug into the thin sheets of the medical bed.

The noise of their contact filled the quiet, darkened medbay. In Finn’s world, darkened by Alice’s all-encompassing body, he thought of their playful chase which began back in Angeles. Was it always going to end this way?

“I love you-” Alice cooed, pulling herself upward from his hips.

Was it ever a game?

“Ah!” Alice dropped downward, drawing another moan from Finn’s lips.

He was just one more prize for her people.

“Mine.” Alice sped up. “Mine. Mine!”

One more conquest.

His Daxy lover growled. "That's it, mi pixli." Her claws pressed into the skin of his back, but didn't draw blood. "Sing for me."

Finn whined, brushing his hands across her glistening orange scales.

He’d wanted this from the very beginning, and the beautiful creature on top of him knew it.

“…hold you forever.” Alice’s own speech became momentarily disjointed, dragging herself upward with lidded eyes. “Handsome… perfect… boy.” 

They both reveled in the sensation of skin against scales. 

“Yes-” Finn bucked upward. “D-don’t stop!”

The two of them cried out together, holding to the other to weather the storm.

Finn craned his head backward to look up into Alice’s golden eyes far above, and her reptilian slits dilated into black moons.

She loves me.

He was never a conquest, not to her. 

This was more than conquest could ever be.

Without a word, Alice gripped Finn’s face in her claws. She smiled ever so slightly as Finn nuzzled into her.

I love her.

The two of them continued in the quiet privacy of the medbay. The act which began as indescribably intense went from fast, to slow, and lastly, to sweet. They continued through the rest of the night, before finally succumbing to exhaustion.

Beside the bed was an untouched mylar bag, the food inside long forgotten. 

When morning finally came, Finn breathed in gentle, peaceful swells as he slept soundly beside Alice. An orange tail coiled around his thigh, two scaled arms wrapped around his chest, and a smile played at the edge of his lips.

Chapter Text

The faint, but distinct patter of rain fills your ears. Your eyes are shut, and your back rests against the cold, hard ground.

You roll back and forth experimentally on this awful floor. This isn’t your bed.

Where’s Rax?

Your heart pounds out of your chest in terror, yet your eyes remain closed and you remain still.

“Miles.” The man’s voice is familiar. “Wake up.”

You try, but you can’t muster the strength to even open your eyelids. 

“Awake and arise.” 

What was once a suggestion is now a command; a command with power. Before your mind responds, your body does. Whatever force once held you down now propels you onto your feet. It wasn’t an external push or pull; it came from within. 

“Miles.” 

You open your eyes. Soon, the figure and the environment come into view. You and a taller man are standing on a plain of ugly shrubbery and grass beside an expansive salt flat. The sky is overcast, with little drops of rain hitting your shoulders and your hair. 

“You.” It’s the Healer. The man in a pristine three-piece suit stands not far from you. Despite his bearded face and squarer jaw, the resemblance to your own father is especially striking now that you've spent more time with him. “Please tell me that Finn didn’t inject me with Ketamine again.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid.” He smiles and politely checks the time on his golden pocket-watch, before slipping it back into the front pocket of his coat. 

You survey the environment. Instead of the fine, but industrial construction of the NEC, this place is beautiful in the opposite way; a pristine, untouched landscape stretches on in every direction. Ranges of mountains fill the horizon to the east, stretching north and south. Snow falls from the thick clouds and onto the distant peaks, obscuring the skyline in a dark haze. 

There are occasional patches of green, but from the books and AR programs you’d seen, most would consider this landscape lonely and dreary. Yet, you do not see it that way.

You complete a full rotation and return to looking at him. “So, I’m not under the influence?” It’s hard to know for sure when you live with Finn. “What is this, then? Where am I?”

“’Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy…’” He steps toward you. “’Your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.’”

You fold your arms. Rather than a matching suit like last time you saw him, you are dressed in dark-blue mating robes traditional among the Daxy, minus the usual veil. 

“You live in an exceptional time.” His words are filled with both excitement and anticipation. 

You don’t share his excitement. “Why isn’t Reesa with you?” 

“Son-” his eyes glow with sincere apology. “This time, I was given this task and not her.”

“Why?”

“It was neither her, nor my call to make.” His face wrinkles, his expression serious if not a little stern.

You try to nod and accept his answer, but it’s harder than you expect. “Why couldn’t both of you show up like last time?” you glance at the landscape roundabout. “Wherever this is.”

It doesn’t take him long to realize that he must tell you more. “I can tell you that she wanted to be here.”

You look at him, confused.

“A promise was made to me a long time ago. The Giver of that gift keeps His promises.” He walks up to you. Giving up on a justification, he settles for a hand on your shoulder. “Suffer it to be so, for now, son.”

You feel that he isn’t lying or trying to get out of your question; it is right that he is here and Reesa is not, but you do not know why. You even feel a little guilty for pushing the issue.

“Another law of heaven; never be afraid to ask questions.”

“Is that actually a ‘law of heaven’?”

The Healer chuffs. “Unofficially.” He lets go of your shoulder. “I think the Lord has his own version of it somewhere.”

Did he just make a joke?

“Who even are you?” You glance down at the floor and kick a chip in the salt-flat with your sandals— another element of traditional Daxy mating garb

“‘He shall plant, in the hearts of the children, the promises made to the fathers.’” He reaches out to press his hand into the soft, alien fabric over your breast. “‘And the hearts of the children shall turn toward their fathers.’” He pulls his right hand off of your chest and puts it over his own heart.

You blink at him. That’s probably as specific as you’ll get. 

The wind howls, blowing at your robes. A dark patch of the cloud-cover rains heavy droplets from above. Your cheeks sting with the cold. 

After being holed up in that bunker, it’s liberating to stand in the rain— though your attire isn’t suited for it. You extend your arms in either direction, opening your embrace to the sky with the Healer behind you. 

You grin. “I kinda like this place!”

“What do you see?” he asks you.

The gentle rumble of thunder shakes the sky. You take a few seconds just to feel the rain against your face, before looking back to the landscape. 

Those mountains are familiar, but something feels off. You recognize the frosted peaks and jagged slopes from your distant childhood, but the landscape looks too barren. You blink. “This can’t be right.”
 
“It is right.” The Healer nods in confirmation. “It is two centuries before you were born.”

You’d been to stranger places and under worse circumstances, you suppose. 

“What’s the point of bringing me here?” Your question is punctuated by another roll of thunder over the distant mountains.

“Perspective,” he says. “When I bring you here, you see home. The idea is deep and automatic, but is your home actually here yet?”

“No.”

He cracks a smile. “It wasn’t for the first settlers either, or the indigenous which preceded them.” He bends down toward the ground, the faint ticking of the second hand on his pocket-watch audible. “If they could’ve, they would’ve chosen anywhere else.”

You knew your family had lived in Utah for a long time, but you barely remembered the stories your mom and dad would tell you. 

Looking out over the landscape, you feel rooted, grounded in a way you rarely had on Orphan 9. 

“It was nearly impossible to grow crops-” The man digs his hand into the soil. “Many settlers couldn’t afford to put together wagon trains, so they took handcarts across the United States.” He pulls a clod of gravelly soil out of the ground, before rising back to his feet.

“That didn’t go well?” you try to humor him. 

“Many had died crossing during the winter.” He let the dry soil crumble in his palm and slip through his fingers. “For a while, some fell into despair. There was no choice, but to keep trying to cultivate the soil.” He rubs the dirt from his hands.

“Did anyone turn back?”

“That was not an option. The choice was made, and the consequences received.”

“So it was either starve or learn to grow crops.” You glance at the loamy, clumpy soil at your feet. “How did they make it work?”

“We had to look across a dark wilderness and…” His initially dire delivery lightens. “…see a home.”

You blink and the loamy soil is replaced with asphalt. You’re no longer in the heart of a great valley, but up in the mountains. Smaller Daxy vessels and shuttles fill the sky in a great swarm, intimidating red and black paint marking these soldiers as the most elite of the Fleet’s ranks. They cast long shadows in the orange light of dusk.

The road continues up and down the mountain’s rounded top. Taller peaks close in on the bumpy landscape. On the ground beneath your feet, the patches of dense evergreen, and the half-dozen homes in view are all partially covered with patches of snow. 

“It is not easy to see things as they truly are.” The Healer still stands at your side now, rather than away from you.

Beneath the tips of your intricately designed sandals, the black asphalt meets the white concrete of a driveway. At the top of the driveway is a two-story house. It is very modern in shape but has the rustic authenticity of brick and wood. The front door has been ripped off of its hinges. 

The sound of the distant ships filling the sky is overshadowed by a cacophony of approaching sub-bass frequencies. 

At least a dozen imperial carriers, no more than a few hundred feet above you, pass over the mountain range and toward the direction of the setting sun. In the distance, you hear the blaring of a siren somewhere on the ground, trapped in a steady cycle of rising and falling pitch.

A rolling thunder fills the clear sky. The terrifying noise signals not just approaching ships, but a whole fleet. Much higher than the cruisers passing over you, you see hundreds of separate glimmering objects hurtling towards the Earth on the end of fiery and bluish-white trails. 

“What do you see?” The Healer asks as the two of you pass into the shadow of the cruiser formation. 

“An invasion,” you respond as the sky darkens overhead with the Daxy’s navy. 

When you blink, you’re somewhere else. 

You feel the tell-tale buzz of active gravity plating dance across your skin. You’d been on Earth long enough to adjust to natural gravity. 

You’re standing at the holodisplay in what must’ve been the flagship of the Earth Fleet, based on the size of this ship. From behind, you hear Daxy troops in conversation and doors open and close. The construction is ancient in aesthetic, and futuristic in function. The floor is dark, brushed metal, and the walls are etched with symbols. 

After spending so much of your life in orbit, it’s comforting to see the Earth from this wonderful distance again. From the distant edge of the Earth’s blue haze, the crescent of the rising sun lights the planet below. 

North America, the Pacific, and the Atlantic occupy most of your field of view. Long shadows stretch from the Rocky Mountains, toward the western half of America still in darkness. You could spend hours looking at the intricately detailed patches of desert, plains, and ocean.

Thousands upon thousands of ships in the fleet surrounding Earth glint in the light. This kind of activity meant you were still in the midst of the War.

The Healer leans against the glass of the large holodisplay. “What do you see?”

“Our Induction,” you say.

The Healer has his eyes on the Fleet, or perhaps a particular part of the Earth below. “The Daxy saw it as our salvation.” 

His words are punctuated by a flash on the planet’s surface. On the western half of the continent, a glowing fireball begins in Arizona and spreads across an area that must’ve been many miles across. It’s a tiny spot from orbit, but the devastation of the nuclear blast must’ve been unimaginable. 

You blink and you’re elsewhere. 

You’re standing in what you recognize from photos as the Administrator’s diplomatic chambers. There’s a holo-display occupying one wall, with a long conference table in the center of the great hall. At least three dozen seats are at the table, but nearly all of them are empty.

The four which are filled are occupied by Admirals, judging by the ornate decoration of their blue armor. They face two figures at the head of the table, their helmets off and their heads bowed.

“Major General Axla Braxys-” Administrator Paxi is dressed in her all-gold armor. Its vibrancy draws your attention. “With the authority of Axillis’ Right Hand, I entrust Earth and its men into your charge, and release them from Major Admiral Pesix, who is deceased. Their protection, their safekeeping, and their wellbeing is your holy responsibility, both here and in the Manor above. When they curse you, you will help them. When they hate you, you will love them. When they resist you, you will overcome them.”

Axla is bowed humbly before the Administrator. Her black armor is dirtied and the boots spotted gray with nuclear ash. A ceremonial, gold cape is fixed to her armor.

“Their females will try to stop you, but you will not be stopped.” Paxi continues the ceremony. “By accepting this mantle, you accept the responsibility to inflict pain, but only justly; you accept the responsibility to wage war, but only honorably. You will Induct these males, and thereby perform your sacred duty, at any cost.”

Although her face is bowed toward the ground and her eyes are closed, you can make out her reverent expression. Her frills are laid flat on her neck and her tail is both perfectly still and perfectly straight.

“Axla Braxys, rank or title you may have, but above them all, you are a daughter of Axillis; a servant of her cause; an advocate for your sisters and their mates. You will do your duty.”

“With body, heart, and soul,” Axla says.

“Then this commission is yours, Major General.”

At that, the four other admirals lifted their heads and Axla stood to full height.

“The actual ceremony wasn’t in English.” The Healer is checking his pocket watch at your side, his sturdy form silhouetting the image of the Earth on the holodisplay. He flashes you just the faintest smile. “But I figured you wouldn’t get much from it otherwise.”

You speak, knowing that those at the conference table can’t hear you. “I already know that they put her in charge. Why show me?” 

He raises a finger towards his eyes. “Perspective.” 

“General Braxys, as the de-facto Chair of the Admiralty Board, you will now address us.” Paxi steps back from Axla and bows to a full ninety degrees. 

The other admirals shoot up out of their seats and onto their feet in a prompt show of respect. You and the Healer stand on the opposite end of the conference table from Axla. 

Axla’s eyes scanned across the many empty seats from the head of the table. Her narrowed eyes briefly pass over you and the fire in them burns with intensity. She’s quiet for a few seconds longer, though you cannot tell if it is purposeful.

“I have been a fool.” She speaks with confidence, despite her words. “I urged the Admiralty to attend that Summit. They were not just officers to me, but friends— mentors. I know I am not alone in that.”

The Admirals and Paxi watch Axla in careful silence.

“The honorable part of humanity—” Axla glances at the ground and her voice wavers. “-had me momentarily convinced that our ancient and divine responsibility could be compromised. For a moment, some of us thought to co-exist with the creatures that used humanity’s men for so long.” She scoffs at herself. “The terrorists did not just kill at least a hundred thousand of our sisters, but uncountable numbers of their own men and women — no doubt many times greater than our losses.”

“I was among the first to land and assist after the blast.” She quiets, troubled. “I watched soldiers search for their mates among the rubble. I saw males with their skin burned in the nuclear fire. I witnessed children crushed under fallen buildings.” 

The subtle expressions, the limp tails, and the twitching frills allow you to see the collective sorrow of the five Daxy listening to her impassioned words.

Ever the effective orator, Axla lets the weight of her sights linger before she continues. “When we found Earth, we saw most of humanity forever at war— men and women alike living in squalor, misery, and depravity for the delight of a corrupt and irredeemable few.” She turns toward the Earth, her voice quiet. “Less concerned races might have seen the misery and given up, but it wasn’t another race which Axillis saw fit to bring to humanity’s aid— it was us.”

You glance at the Healer, who watches Axla with an uncomfortable, regretful expression.

“We saw humanity in a way they never had seen themselves. Where there was bloodshed, we saw peace. Where there was misery, we saw joy. Where there were men— disposable, weak, and worthless in their own eyes, we saw mates— irreplaceable, beautiful, and invaluable.” She put her gloved hands onto the back of the seat at the table’s head, gripping to it with her black gloves. “I knew we saw their world differently than they did, but we never could’ve guessed how little they valued their own lives.” Her lips are twisted into a quivering frown as she holds back a tide of anger and pain.

The Acting General’s stoicism has crumbled into sudden mourning. “If we left them with their females, destruction would be the only outcome. Never before have we seen crimes so grave— depravity so low—” Her anger makes her frills stand on end. “Humanity is plagued, and we are the only remedy.”

As the sun peeks out from behind the Earth on the holodisplay, the right side of the General’s face is bathed in the simulated, yellow starlight, yet the light casted her other side in deep darkness.

“The only way a human woman can retain the love and devotion of her male is by convincing him that he is worthless. Once he views himself that way, the human male treats others the same. These hurting males are sent to die by the millions in their wars, and they are made to do the most awful labor, and we wonder why they do these things? The order of nature itself has been inverted and we must restore it.”

What was once an air of defeat has been captured and turned into indignant, motivating anger. 

Despite her passion, Axla’s tail swung behind her with precision and discipline. “The human man thinks he is fighting us in this war, but he is not. He is not even a combatant.” Conflicting emotions play across her features. Uncertainty is in her eyes while she fights back a hiss of seething anger. “There will be no real combat, no true resistance. Earth is ours. Humanity is ours. So they were from the very beginning, they just didn’t know it.” She speaks with promise. “But they will know— every last male. And once they are in our embrace, they will finally see what they are truly worth.” She looks up and down the conference table absently.

You inhale sharply as she meets your eyes.

“They will see that they are worth more than they could ever understand.”

——

Darkness. 

You flail in confusion.

“Mi, wake up. Mi-” Muscled arms are wrapped around you. They hold your back tight against a mountain of powerful flesh. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” 

You open your eyes and inhale sharply. You feel cool, smooth scales pressed against your own bare form. “Rax?” You’re naked under the thick comforter of a Daxy-sized bed.

She rumbles in the affirmative. “You were movin’ around a lot.” She runs an anxious claw up and down your own chest, clutching you like a teddy-bear. “You sounded scared, baby.” She whimpers with concern, holding you that much tighter. The massive Daxy licks the top of your head, though you don’t know if it is for her sake or your own. Her tongue leaves a sticky, wet patch of saliva in your hair. 

“I’m okay.” You blink lazily, your view of the darkened quarters of the Echo blurred in your grogginess. The sweet tinge of the pheromones enveloping you is gently guiding you back to unconsciousness.

“Did you have a nightmare?” She pulls you back from the edge of sleep.

You glance at the red security light over the sealed door leading to the CIC. Sweat on your neck sticks your skin to the neat lines of soft scale on her breasts. 

“Miles-” she says. “Is it about tomorrow?” 

“We need to get it right.” She knew that, but you say it anyway.

“You will.” 

You’re still thinking of Axla after your dream. Other troubling memories crowd in. Her lips against yours. The needle against your neck. She’ll steal you from everything you pretend to be and you’ll love it.

The dark thoughts are interrupted by Rax’s loving tail snaking through your legs and wrapping around your thigh.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She turns you from your side and onto your back. She props herself on an elbow to look down at you. The plush layer of pliant flesh beneath her scales is pressed to your skin. 

Your eyes meet hers. Even in the faint light of the darkened quarters, the amber pools are nearly radiant. 

On anyone or anything else, those eyes would fill you with dread— the eyes of a predator. 

When the eyes of your mate fall on you, they hold the tide of darkness back and fill you with peace.

“I’m here.” She trails the point of a claw across your exposed chest and around the curve of your collarbone lazily. 

You grab her claws and bring them up to your lips, kissing the hardened scales on the back of her hand. 

The edge of her mouth perks up and a gap forms in her maw, as if she can’t decide whether to growl or smile. She chuckles darkly. “My other claws could use that treatment sometime, you know.” She wiggles her massive, three-toed feet under the covers.

There’s enough residual blue light in the darkened Echo for you to see her wink. Especially locked down in the NEC bunker, that wasn’t a lot of light.

Romantic as usual. You enclose her claw in both of your hands. “You know what’s funny?” She could probably close one of her clawed hands around both of your fists. “Since your eyes can see into the infrared range, you can see me a lot better than I can see you.”

“You look like such a slut in infrared, Mi.” She remains almost motionless, besides the continual shifting of her tail along your leg and thigh. 

You kiss the back of her hand again. “Your slut,” you correct.

It’s not easy to shake off the haze of sleep when her wonderful pheromones are wearing at your mind. You’ve been marinating in it and a thin film of shared sweat all night. 

Heavy silence returns. You think of all the things that must happen tomorrow. 

It won’t be the only time you have to practice, you think. 

And once you did get it right, you would be ready to finally leave this place.

“What if something goes wrong?” you say. 

“We change the plan.” She grunts, before grabbing you and pulling you up onto her chest. Despite her powerful musculature, the plush of her breasts and stomach is enough to drape comfortably across her form. “And we try again.” She smiles happily as you nestle into a familiar spot on the chest of your naked companion. 

You keep your eyes on hers, hesitating. Where has her confidence come from? Why do you not feel it?

Your daxy lover shuffles backward, and the plush bed groans in protest. She clutches you to her chest as she props her shoulders up on the headboard.

This is the position Rax prefers to watch you sleep when you are anxious.

“I don’t want to do something if it won’t work,” you say. 

“It’s just a test.” 

“I know, but-” Your mouth gapes. The pheromones continually beat back your anxiety, but one terrible thought manages to squeeze through. “What if we can’t get home?” 

The eyes of your mate look down on you with affection. “Home?” She speaks like the word is alien to her. 

Rax ruffles your hair playfully. Your most troubling thought couldn’t shake her.

“As long as I’m with you…” Her arms and abs tense, giving you a protective squeeze. “I already am home.” 

Administrator Paxi had seen uncountable numbers of children in the Empire.

As a young cadet, her mother showed her the Lisax Menagerie. Families and peoples of every kind were gathered into the habitable zones of that great ringworld. 

Countless species contained in endless spires, extending from one side a great star, all the way to the other. It was the first time she had been truly stunned at the might and breadth of the Empire.

Seeing the other children, especially, was her favorite part. It was on that day that she began to wonder when she would have her own. 

When she looked upon the Earth for the first time, she knew where her children would be born, and when she saw Adrian, she knew who their father would be.

She would see them in dreams; her unborn children, yet to be brought into the world. 

The most tender and the gentlest of them all was Sawyer.

Her love for her son was certain from the moment she saw him. He would be among the first human children of a great generation; those that would usher in a new age for mankind. 

He made her think of the Nursery again. All of those children— they were the might and future of the Empire.

So why, out of all of those children, must it have been him?

Paxi stood motionless.

Without him warming the sterile room, Adrian’s lab was cold and quiet. The only noise came from the medical bed and its various machines and apparatus, rolled into the place of one of her mate’s machines. 

Sawyer Paxi laid motionless in bed, most of his face obscured by a clear mask. His chest rose and fell with the enriched air pumped in and out of his lungs. 

The little child had been dressed in a fine robe of dark blue. An assortment of dull branches, roots, and flowers had been laid over his chest— a measure to which Dr. Lisixas had protested, but one which the Axillian Priestess had insisted on. 

Paxi, as secular as she was, had sided with the priestess. 

Her mother would’ve done the same if she was still here.

Yet she was not.

The door to the lab slid open behind Paxi, disrupting her sacred silence.

The Administrator didn’t look back. “What is it?” she asked coldly.

“My apologies, Administrator, if it is not appropriate. I thought it-”

Paxi turned about at the foot of her son’s bed. 

Colonel Braxys stood before the open doorway in a new suit of power-armor, her helmet held at her hip. The midnight-blue armor wasn’t plated traditionally but was instead composed of hexagonal scales— interlocking and shifting above a flexible medium to form the larger shape. Besides the change in attire and the new patch of pink scar-flesh on her snout, she looked nearly the same.

Almost the same. Her usual stoic glare coexisted with a new ease. Whether it be the more relaxed posture she struck in her more advanced armor, or the sorrow she reflected back at the Administrator, she was not the same.

“I am sorry, Administrator.” Braxys made a full, dignified bow to her superior. Her new armor let her move without any restriction at all. “When I was released, I came here right away.”

Paxi didn’t return the bow, remaining slouched beside the bed in resignation. The golden scales of her cheeks and around her eyes were stained dark.

“I am more than pleased to see you.” The Administrator kept one of her claws tight around Sawyer’s bed frame. Her eyes closed and she bowed her head, almost involuntarily. She listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor. “I suppose things are not yet hopeless.”

There were at least a hundred doctors who were watching those vitals, running tests, and analyzing their results; doctors who were scrambling to save her son.

“Things are never hopeless.” Axla took a few steps towards the mother and child, the little components of her suit shifting quietly to support her body. 

Paxi barely registered the words. “I must give you my apologies. I wanted to be there when you woke up.” She reached down to pick up a little white flower resting beside her son’s leg on the bed. “Dr. Lisixas called me and I had to come back.”

“You had no choice.” Axla was close but didn’t come quite within touching distance.

Paxi’s golden eyes fixed to the distant, darkened screen of Adrian’s personal terminal. “Sawyer was in great pain and called for me in the middle of the night.” Her stare was vacant. “A seizure followed, and he has not woken up since.”

“What was the diagnosis?” 

“Hyperinsulinism; I am told it is congenital. Gene therapies and medications have been developed that can cure him, but he was deprived of oxygen for minutes during his seizure.” The massive creature twisted the little flower delicately between her fingers. 

Axla’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry.”

Paxi accepted the apology with a grave nod. “The doctors are doing everything they can, but we haven’t been with humanity long enough to consistently resuscitate from a coma, or to reverse brain damage.”

“Do they know that his brain is damaged?” Axla’s question was optimistic.  

“We will not know unless he wakes up.”

“Until he wakes up,” Axla corrected her. As the chief of the Administrator’s guard, she knew her children well, and it pained her to see him in such a state.

“We do not know if he will.”

Axla’s frills straightened within the confines of her armor. “No, I suppose we do not,” she conceded. “But we must believe that he will.”

“You sound like my mother,” Paxi added dryly. “I’ve never known you to be a woman of faith, Colonel.”

“Recent events have altered my perspective.” Axla shrugged, the interlocking components of her breastplate moving with her heaving chest. “I see more truth in it now.” She glanced at the flower between Paxi’s fingers. 

Paxi noticed her curious eyes. “I had it brought directly from the Homeworld,” she said with a self-conscious smile. 

“I never knew you to be a woman of faith,” Axla said with a little smile. “-But I understand. My own mother stuck an A’kix flower in my helmet when I came to Earth. She said it would protect me and my future family.”

“I know that many of the flowers on Earth make it look measly, but-” 

“Do not say that. It is beautiful.” Axla interrupted the Administrator, glancing pointedly at Sawyer. “You are not from Earth, and he is your little newt.”

The A’kix flower was Lax’s only individual creation, made for Axillis as a show of his devotion to the Goddess and to their family. It was one of the few native flowers from the Daxy’s ancestral home— a delicate, white flower in a world of brown and gray.

The Administrator’s wide eyes glistened in the bright light of the repurposed lab. Her golden irises shined with a new brilliance. “The Priestess said that it would help connect his spirit to mine— that Axillis herself would come to him.”

Axla didn’t speak.

“If he doesn’t wake up—” Paxi’s voice was small, barely a whisper. “Would the Great Mother take him as her own?”

The only pain comparable to losing one’s mate was losing a child.

Paxi feared that she had already lost them both.

“May I share a brief anecdote?” the Colonel said.

Paxi nodded weakly. “Please.”

Axla watched the rise and fall of Sawyer’s chest beneath his robes. “A comrade of mine lost a child to SIDS. Her mate was among the first humans to volunteer for Assignment before the war.”

Paxi set the A’kix flower back at her son’s feet, its white petals and purple stem intact. “’SIDS’?”

“Sudden infant death syndrome. Back then, we had not yet cured most of humanity’s disease.”

“Ah.”

“She was a follower of Axillis, and it didn’t seem like her faith mattered at first. She was hit as hard as any parent would be, but then-” Axla paused. “-eventually, the weight was lifted.” 

Paxi listened intently, not daring to interrupt. 

“She had seen their daughter in a dream.” Axla averted her eyes, weighed down by her own words. “-Taken up into the arms of Axillis herself.” 

A brief respite from the tension in the air followed the story.

“Their child died in a single, tragic instant, and the Great Mother still tended to her.” Axla projected confidence. “He will wake up, but if I am wrong and he does not, then She will care for him.”

“How do you know?” Paxi gazed at her child longingly.  

Axla finally put her hand on Paxi’s shoulder. “Axillis watches over us all, Administrator.”

The Colonel watched her superior carefully as her expression changed from sorrowful to something more neutral. Very rarely did she ever see the woman as a mother. 

“This has always been Sawyer’s favorite place on the ship.” Paxi turned back. The edges of her maw trembled. “He would spend hours in here as my mate worked.”

Axla cocked her snout.

“Adrian is the father of my children.” The momentary peace she had before was visibly wiped away. The bite-muscles on her neck flexed visibly and her eyes narrowed. “He will be here when our Sawyer wakes up, or he will be here when he does not, but either way— he will be here.”

Axla was going to bow to acknowledge the implicit order, but the Administrator continued. 

“If he is with the Christian zealots; our search is pointless. We cannot wait another decade to find him.” 

Axla straightened. The sparse gold engraving on her breastplate shifted with the flexible, hexagonal scales. “What would you suggest instead?”

“The last time we searched for their listening posts, we lost a very foolish major, but-” Paxi lowered herself onto the bed, beside her son. “-we do not need to use them to find Zion.” 

“Do you think your mate would surrender?” Axla folded her gloved fingers together. “If you sent him a message?” 

“As I said before…” Paxi cupped Sawyer’s cheek in her palm and combed his hair with the points of her claws. “He is the father of my children. He would not leave them, not even for her.” The Administrator restrained her hiss, unable to show anger in the presence of her tender child.  

“Unless we want to transmit a message from Fort Christ and take all of this public, we would need transponder information to communicate with them and them alone.”

“Yes, we would.” She looked up to the Colonel with the faintest beginning of a smile. “If our other sources bear no fruit, one of your Hunters just took another prisoner who just might be able to help."

Chapter Text

Matthias smiled, reaching up to straighten the blue tie around his neck. 

After Saturday’s yard work the day before, the backyard of his parents’ home was nearly-immaculate. White and pink rose bushes lined the straight edges of the freshly-trimmed lawn. The smell was refreshing.

In a world descended into chaos, perhaps tending to one’s lawn was the only normal thing one could hope for.

His eyes were fixed on the bold line separating the green grass from the gray pavement on which he stood. The tips of his brown dress shoes came right up to the line. 

His eyes followed the irregularities and inconsistencies in the edge of the lawn, though they were harder to spot than when his younger brother first took over the yardwork two years ago. Residue of dirt and the dried blades of grass left further proof of recent lawn-care along the line between living and inanimate.

The sounds of a house-party emanated from the open windows of the suburban home behind him. Amidst the clamor, he listened to the declining pitch of a passenger plane passing far overhead. In proper form for his ward and his family, this “homecoming” of subdued conversation and old jazz was growing louder. Laughter and eager conversation blended together to overcome the relatively boring music.

A squeaky screen door shut behind him with a crash. “The grass tell you its secrets?” A light voice was followed by the approach of clacking heels. 

Matthias smiled reflexively at the voice of his sister, but didn’t look back.

Joanna came up to his side with a few more steps, looking out at the lawn with him.

“The grass told me that you’re next” –he turned his head to the left with a playful nudge of her shoulder– “or perhaps it was the Spirit.” 

“Personal revelation from grass?” Joanna looked up at him with a smirk. “That’s gotta be a sin… or something like that, right, Elder?” Her curled lips were painted in dark bronze lipstick.  

“See, you already know your stuff.” Matthias grinned. “You’d be a great missionary.”

“‘Sister Carter’ has a ring to it, sure.” she acknowledged facetiously. “But no way. Nuh uh. Not in a million years.” She crossed her arms, clutching to her elbows with her black-painted nails in the cold breeze. 

“Ah, I should let Dad keep giving you a hard time about it, anyways.” The hope that their children would serve missions was one of the few that Matt’s Father and Mother had held onto when the United States finally split, and the whole of the divided country feared civil war was coming. The Secession tore apart economies, dreams and families alike.

Better to change the subject now.

Matthias cleared his throat. “Did you have that dress before?” he asked, partially imitating his sister's gesture by folding his arms. 

His older sister was in her Sunday best– Joanna wore a darker sundress, with little patterns of gold and blue flowers sewn into the black cloth. The bright design stood in stark contrast to the darkness behind it; a perfect, if not modest, fit for her.

Still, it was a dress that he didn’t recognize, though.

A lot can change in two years.

Like the US dollar no longer being the reserve currency of the world’s nations…

“Nope, it’s brand new.” Joanna replied as she reached into the hand-sewn, black purse hanging from her left shoulder. “Mom bought me another pink and frilly dress while you were out saving the world… I think she occasionally forgets what I do for a living and what kind of clothes I wear.” Joanna tugged at the waist of her dress with pride, showing off her flawless stitch-work in the overlapping, circular folds of fine cloth.

“I guess being a fashion designer makes you picky?” Matthias shrugged. “Who knew.” His gray suit and blue tie fluttered in the breeze.

“Hey, don’t judge me yet.” His sister pulled her empty hand from her purse, pointing at him as her pride turned self-conscious. “I liked the pattern, but not the cloth itself– too bright and girly. But , I didn’t want to make mom too sad. It was a nice gift, after all.” Without tongue-in-cheek humor, she smiled sincerely. “So I looked for the right thread, and made a new dress with the design.”

“You made all this by hand?” Matthias now noticed the subtle variety between each of the hundreds of dime-sized flowers and their petals. The incredible attention to detail in the fabric of the dress itself was machine-like.

Even as one with little more than a passing interest in clothes, he was impressed.

“Yeah… spent eight hours a day on it for a whole week, just getting the pattern right.” She nodded, tucking her straight black hair behind a pierced ear. “I know it’s stupid, but–”

“I like it.” Matthias interrupted before she could self-deprecate any further. “Lets you express yourself and show Mom that you appreciate her.”

Joanna was quiet. Her little, sincere smile worked at her lips, brightening her face despite self-conscious attempts to resist the spreading glow.

“You made it, and that makes it yours, but you were also a good daughter,” he said with certainty. “Even if you don’t wear the dress she bought you, I know you made her happy.”

Coming from another, the compliment might sound sanctimonious or patronizing, but from him, it was true and it worked.

“You really did change out there.” Joanna’s face brightened with a new pride, yet this time it wasn’t in herself. 

She complimented him, and yet he barely felt the slightest satisfaction. “I guess.” Matthias’ pleasant feelings soured at her words. Something else was weighing on his heart.

“What do you mean, ‘I guess’?” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I promise, it’s a good thing Matty!” She looked up at him.

He averted his eyes from his sister’s gaze, and they both fell silent.

Wind rustled through the white birch trees beside their parents’ home. A few of the leaves had turned orange, and others still fell from the tree, drifting down onto the grass and pavement.

A widening of Joanna’s earnest and, empathetic eyes told Matthias that his sister saw something in him that worried her. 

“Are you okay?” Her hand reached up to the side of his neck, lightly curling around his soft skin and his white collar. “What’s wrong, Matty?”

Faint laughter from within the home was carried away on the breeze. 

He glanced at the ground, then back at her. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Right now, I’m who I need to be– I’m the way God wants me. I’m the way I want to be. I just–” He paused as a loud gust of wind blew past them.

Joanna kept her focus on him as the wind pulled at her meticulously straightened hair.

“The world, it’s so… it’s so hard, but I just can’t go back to who I was before,” he said, uncompromising, unfeeling. It was a command to himself.

Joanna’s black-lined eyebrows raised. Her expression was pained.

“I want–” His voice faltered. “I need to stay like this.” 

Forgiven. 

Clean.

Good.

“I’ve got bad news for you, Matt.” Joanna held on to her brother with a smile. “And I’m sorry to be the one to burst your bubble, but you… you are going to screw up.”

Matthias glanced briefly down at the floor. Another round of distant laughter from the party followed a joke too quiet for either of them to hear.

“And guess what? You’re going to screw up again, and again, and again...” 

“But–”

“ You will, Matty. That doesn’t mean you stop moving forward– stop getting better– stop being the man you are , but you will mess up something eventually , and you know it. That’s why you’re scared.”

Matthias must’ve not looked very reassured by her words. 

His sister shook her head, her voice gentle, but chiding. “All that time you’ve spent teaching others about Him, and you still can’t see it.” She gripped Matt tight, as if she would lose him if she let go. “Better or worse, Matthias; you’ve always been the man He needs you to be.” 

Matthias was silent.

The elder sister poked at the black badge, fixed to the lapel of Matthias’ black suit coat– right over his heart. “You were great a long time before you put on any name tag.” 

The wind whistled softly through the leaves of the white birch trees.

“You think wearing a dorky suit made you great?” Joanna continued, making a display of considering each of her questions. “How about all the time you spent preaching? Did that make you great?”

Serving people made him feel great.

Yes. Matthias wanted to say it, but he didn’t.

“Actually, I take back what I said about the suit. Looks flawless on you.” She chuffed, but only for a moment. “Everything else, though? All the people you served? You did all that because of who you are and who you’ve become.” She put her hand flat over her brother’s heart. “He made you great.”

Matthias craned his head back to look up at the sky. “You know… for the first few months away from home, I dreaded having to wake up early, just to work all day with some kid who was just waiting to catch me breaking the rules.” Matthias gestured with air-quotes. “Now I don’t know how I’m going to live without it. Doing things for people just because it’s the right thing. Sounded lame, but honestly? There’s nothing else I’ve enjoyed more.” 

“Sure, but…” she smirked. “Having your own bedroom again, and actually getting some sleep, though? Those are priceless.” 

Matthias smiled at the humor, but his brief reaction faltered at the edges.

“C’mon, Matty. It’s going to be okay … it’s going to be okay, and you know it.”

“I- I’m not sure.” A mixture of emotions swirled in his heart, both heavy and bright.

“Well, I know it. Let that be enough for now. You think God is done with you, just because He wants you somewhere else, doing something else?” Joanna rarely spoke in such terms, yet right now, she did so with certainty. “Not even close. He has so much more for you. So much.”

Matthias felt moisture collect in his eyes. He wanted to respond to her, but struggled.

He should’ve had something to say to Joanna, so why didn’t he?

His heart swelled with love, true and pure. Love for her, for the moment he was in, and perhaps even for himself. 

It was all intense enough that he didn’t know what to do with it. He should have something to say, and yet he didn’t. What he was feeling was unspeakable.

“You’re–” He choked on his words, before wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

“C’mere.” His stout little sister wrapped her arms around him, nearly knocking the wind out of him as she pulled him close. “You’re worried about screwing up? Guess what: I love you– I will always love you, no matter what happens.”

Matthias leaned down, letting her strength support him. He might’ve been taller than her, but right now, his big sister was firm and immovable for him.

“I’m proud of you, Matty.” Joanna gripped him tight. “We all are.”

Matthias sat in the bright white of the interrogation room, across from his hulking daxy captor. 

His captor and mate , he had to remind himself. 

Asyx watched him intently, the evergreen-scales of her snout glistening. “Thank you for sharing that with me, my mate.”

Matthias' eyes focused on his possessions, now arranged neatly in a row on the metal table. Beside an old black name tag and his blue suit-coat was a distorted, fun-house image of his sullen, scruffy reflection staring back at him in the polished metal. The image of his face was the last possession in the short little line crossing the center of the table. 

A special, polymer cable restrained his hands and his feet, his firm restraints complete with padded cuffs designed for his comfort.

Asyx leaned forward. She looked down at the object currently drawing his attention.

It was a black name tag with bold white letters etched into its surface. The hard plastic has been scratched and scuffed over time. A chip was taken out of its rounded, top-left corner.

Though he shared a part of his own life with her, she was going to keep pressing him until he gave up something of tactical significance. They were both going to be here awhile.

Well, at least his cuffs were comfortable.

“I did wonder why we found that badge in your suit pocket; I am curious what more you have to say.” Asyx folded her claws together, her earnest curiosity almost endearing. Almost. “It bears your name and that of Zion’s theocracy. Yet, you were not wearing it when I rescued you.”

Matt lounged back in his seat. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I announced to everyone that I was working for Zion, would I?” 

“That’s precisely why this is such a curious token.” She cocked her snout as she observed him. Her tone was nearly dispassionate, yet she didn’t perfectly hide her interest. “You’ve been looking at it since I brought you the possessions you requested.” 

Matthias didn’t respond to the implicit question of why he asked for them. He reached up to thumb at the nicotine patch on his skin. 

Thanks to his new daxy paramour, at least he wasn’t in nicotine withdrawal anymore.

The muffled, ascending tone of a klaxon on the engineering deck below blared three times, two seconds apart, to announce a shift-change.

In another moment, the noise faded back into the all-consuming, distant hum of the flagship's main reactor.

After another short silence, Asyx spoke again “‘Elder Carter.’” She clacked the point of her sharpened claw against his old missionary badge that he had carried with him before. “Why would a supposedly clandestine agent carry a token which visibly announced their allegiance to Shepard?”

Matthias held his tongue at her slanted characterization of his faith.

“You served Shepard before all this, did you not? In a different capacity, I assume.” the Huntress intuited at last. “This token was not given to you recently, but long ago.” Asyx squinted, her bold scales just beginning to flake at the corner of her eyelids. “How long? Was it before the invasion?”

She’s shedding. Matthias noted the flakes of skin parting from the sharply defined cheeks of her snout with some amusement, not immediately registering her questions.

He used to tease Maxine every time they were on an operation together, and she started flaking off her old scales.

Truth was, when she would ask him to help peel stubborn patches of shedding scales, few times between them were as quiet or as precious. 

For those wonderful moments, there wasn’t a mission, they were just together. Him with her. Her with him.

Maxine …

“Matthias?”

Asyx’s voice brings him back to the present. “Ten years– I got that badge more than ten years ago, now” Matthias swallowed, then answered the Huntress and sat straighter. “Back then, missions weren't about any of this. I was just a preacher who taught and served people– I’m sure you guys have Priestesses like that, right?” He smiled wryly, idly straightening his white shirt collar with old, unconscious reflexes. “Anyways, the point is, ‘building the kingdom’ meant something really different back then. It used to be about spirituality and conversion and all that. Now? It’s just about survival.”

“But you didn’t serve in that capacity during the war, right?” She asked plainly.

“Shepard recalled all our missionaries when the war began, but no– I was done with all that before you guys showed up on Earth, anyways.” Matthias met the Huntress’ curious emerald-green eyes, unphased, as she slid her silvered, pocket-sized recording device back onto the table. 

She pressed her claw to the screen to start recording again, making no show of hiding the action. “And when the Induction Conflict began, you had joined the military, correct? You left civilian life, not to ‘preach’, but to join a special ops unit.” Asyx followed her remark by looking down at her PDA. “Recovered records from the Reformed United States indicate that you fought alongside the Continental Army until the nuclear attack on the Phoenix Peace Summit a year later.” The daxy dragged one of her large claws across her PDA. 

Anger visibly pulled at Asyx’s features at the mere mention of the war’s awful turning point– Phoenix. Her eyes narrowed and the points of her frills raised from her neck, as if she was ready to strike, or perhaps more accurately, defend against an imminent threat.

Matthias was used to fighting alongside and against the daxy, but seeing the ten-foot, half-ton woman in front of him possessed with visible ferocity reminded him of the harrowing end of the war.

The distant echoes of Axla’s rousing speeches come to his mind.

‘...We will do whatever is necessary...’

‘...Humanity’s self-hatred ends today, and it ends with us…’

‘...Temporary pain is a miniscule price to pay, compared to the devastating loss of humanity and his beauty...’

The memory of her commanding voice, crackling through his portable radio, was still clear to him.

Waist-deep in a muddy foxhole in eastern-Oregon, and he and his squad still couldn’t bring themselves to change the frequency. Perhaps they should’ve spared themselves and listened to music instead, but they didn’t.

All of them were terrified of the unstoppable monster rampaging across North America, and yet there was something terribly fascinating about it all. A savvy and brilliant, but compassionate Colonel rises to prominence under the ranks of the High-Admiral, but like the goddess Issachar, once her anger was kindled, conquest followed her like a storm. In the days after Phoenix, she had gathered the forces of the Empire, and entire fronts of the Continental Army collapsed under her assault. The efforts of mankind’s armies went from desperate to hopeless. Her tactics were relentless and clever, but always non-lethal. 

Her shock-troops were dreaded, and her pheromone-drones even more so. 

If you surrendered, you and those in your company were treated with great respect, care, and dignity.

If you were intent on fighting to the bitter end, she would indulge you– and if she thought it necessary, she would make an example out of you, too. 

She conquered without mercy in the name of mercy. 

What was stranger to Matt was that in all of his far-away observations of the Colonel, she seemed to mean every word of what she preached. Every word spoken of love, and compassion, and concern was bafflingly sincere.

The hum of the ship’s reactor brings him back from his frantic mind.

Matthias knew that he was neglecting where he was in the present, and what he was doing, but the memories of the horror after Phoenix were ever-present.

‘I know many of you need a firmer hand, and do not doubt that myself and my sisters will humble you– we will humble you and destroy as much of the corrupt, poisonous past as necessary… once you understand your place, we will carry you in our arms and into our beautiful, shared destiny.’

That wasn’t even the worst of it. He remembered the vicious edge in Braxys’ voice in one of her broadcasts to humanity, days before the unconditional surrender of the Reformed US.  ‘... I do not take pleasure in war, but I cannot promise the human woman her safety or any connection with her male kin unless she submits, and ceases to send her sweet males to war on her behalf…’

Axla blamed the worst of humanity on the women alone. Her distorted worldview made him angry. 

Yet he didn’t remember his anger half as well as he remembered the horror and the helplessness. It still made his palms clammy.

“Matthias.”

Blinking, he looked up from the table and at the daxy across from him. “Sorry…” 

She raised her hand. “I know that look, there’s no need to explain. Phoenix stunned us all.” She nodded, unable to restrain her passion. “Humans are wonderful when loved, but become bitter, hateful, and destructive when enslaved and neglected by inadequate mistresses for so long.”

“Our women weren’t ‘inadequate’,” Matthias said through pursed lips.

“I know, I know; you and your sister had a worthy and a righteous bond. When you told me of Joanna, you spoke of a true, honorable woman.” Her frills fluttered. “She supported the male in her charge valiantly.” Asyx’s lumbering tail snapped back and forth, as her deep voice turned doubtful and critical once more. “If only more of her sisters had loved their males as much as she loved you, things would never have ended the way they did.”

“What?” 

Asyx nodded, her maw parting. “Phoenix; a shining symbol of humanity and the daxy– fully joined as one, where all lived in peace. I’d heard that the Admiralty Board had approved a cease-fire. We saw your attachment to your females, and despite the atrocities we witnessed on Earth, we wanted to give them a chance. Perhaps, we thought, they might learn to be better women as our subordinates…”

Despite how frustratingly patronizing the suggestion was, Matthias saw her sincerity. Her condescension wasn’t even intentional

“How naive we were.” Asyx clicked her tongue repeatedly. “Annihilation of males, their mates, and their children in nuclear fire– the senseless slaughter of your own kind– and why? Because those males volunteered themselves for their daxy mates with joy, and the miserable women and men of the Continental Army’s terrorist cell hated happiness and peace alike.” 

Hundreds of thousands of men, and eventually millions, volunteered when the Empire arrived on Earth. Many of those went to Phoenix with their new mates.

The Daxy were going to uplift humanity, and that meant the joy of joining together at the most intimate level. 

“I don’t understand – if peace really was on the horizon like you guys said, how did a terrorist attack change your mind? You let some psychopaths dictate how humanity and the daxy should live together?”

“Not exactly. It simply taught us what was truly necessary to save humanity; we could not balk at the painful, but necessary exile of your women. They had created so much destruction among you and so much self-loathing in your hearts – Relocation hasn’t been standard war-doctrine for millenia, and yet, Axla and Paxi saw that there was no other choice. If your women had been honorable, such a thing would’ve never happened.”

“That’s not true!” Matthias leaned forward, pointing at the daxy. “You know as well as I that, from the beginning, the options for our women was a grave on Earth, or exile to Mars!”

“If that was the case, we would’ve simply separated you from the very beginning. Do you know how common it is for us to do what we did? Do you think we casually tear apart families?” Asyx’s voice was biting, but more measured than Matthias’. “It is true: when we find a world we mate with the majority of the unbonded males, but we rarely throw away the genetic legacy of their honorable women.”

Matthias’ frown deepened. And yet the Empire worked to throw away ours.

“My love–” The Huntress continued. “When we conquer a world, it is expected that a portion of the men in every generation will be selected as mates for their women, and their existence is preserved, even if they become a minority relative to the daxy. Furthermore, males who are already bound to a female of their own species are off-limits– Axillis does not authorize us to rip apart what has been Joined at our whim or pleasure. Though I won’t question our rightful, dominant role in society, co-existence avoids pain for our new mates, and usually, begets less bloodshed.”

Matthias was quiet. The occupation began just like that, with unmarried men being volunteered for assignment. 

It wasn’t until well into the war– after Phoenix– that families started to be systemically torn apart and separated, by order of then-High Admiral Paxi.

He had heard that the daxy’s exile of humanity’s women was not the norm for the Empire, but he didn’t know if that made the War on Earth better or worse. 

He always imagined the separation as uncontroversial among the Empire’s loyalists, as it was just easier that way, but perhaps there was a partial uncertainty beneath Asyx’s feigned certitude.

“We both agree that the War was a tragedy, but wondering now whether or not a better outcome was possible is pointless. ‘Water under the bridge,’ no?” Asyx gave her best smile, clearly trying to prime him for a switch in subject.

“Not exactly what I would say, but…” It probably wasn’t worth talking about any longer. He sighed, slumping in his chair. “We can move on.” 

“Let us do so. Now– where were we?” Asyx cleared her throat with a deep rumble, her powerful neck-muscles flexing. “Your record in the Continental Army ends following Zion’s withdrawal from the Coalition –at least Shepard stopped fighting for those terrorists – but you don’t reappear on our records until your confrontation with…” she blinked. “Colonel Braxys.” She looked up, processing the information. “This was during solar date two-thousand and thirty-six– nearly a year and half before Jude Axil and half of your team were captured and inducted by her?” She relayed the biographical information as a question underneath her coarse, but not unfeeling, Daxian accent. “Seems you had more than one run-in with Colonel Braxys.”

“Shepard asked me to get one of his Commanders, Alec, back after he got snagged by Colonel Sunshine -- his children needed their father back. I had just started working Retrieval, so I was a little cocky. When I got him, I found out that the Colonel had given him as a special prize to a Lieutenant when she burned down my home.” Matthias clenched the right side of his jaw, his wrists pressing against his restraints.

Elder Carter pictured the face of that man -- that twisted expression on his clean-shaven face. He had been split right down the center, torn by an impossible choice.

He had never forgotten his spouse or their children, but he loved his daxy mate and the family they were building together.

Matthias continued. “Turned out Braxys was willing to fight for him a second time, and we didn’t cover our tracks well enough. She got the drop on us, and even though I escaped with my team, I never did tarnish Braxys’ perfect retrieval record.” His ominous voice wavered, failing to be nonchalant. “Guess I could never get away from her.” 

“No one can.” Asyx consoled him, before pushing the conversation. “It isn’t likely, but did you ever encounter her at another time? Perhaps during her campaign?” 

Matt went pale. “Not directly,” he muttered.

Asyx’s intelligent eyes peered into his own. “Why do I suspect that you are withholding something?”

Matthias’ response was quick. “Because I am.” 

Asyx’s voice softened at his subtle aggression. Somehow, he had told her the information she needed. “Were you in Zion at the Battle of Axla’s Strait, or the ‘Battle of Brianhead’ as your people call it?” 

Matthias pursed his quivering lips.

“There are no women of Zion matching your sister’s name and description at the Mars Relocation Site.” Asyx set down her PDA with a clank, before turning it around to face Matthias. “Did your family evacuate to Zion with your people?”

No Results For ‘Joanna Carter’

Matthias voice was barely above a whisper. “You won’t find her on Mars...” 

Asyx’s heart was brim with visible compassion at the implication of his words. “I heard of the things done by Axla to Induct your people.”

“‘Induct’?” he repeated. “Killing, rape, tearing brother from sister, father from mother…”

“But not without reason. Millions more of your females would’ve died in combat if she did not end the war as quickly as she did.” Her frills twitch in frustration as she snaps back for the first time. “I do not say it to dismiss your pain, but if your females had not treated you so terribly for so long – and if they had fought for you as honorable women would–  perhaps we would be at peace now.”

He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting or not. “What made ours so evil?” Matthias’ mouth parted, confused, baffled. “I just don’t get it. You… you really believe what you’re saying, don’t you?” 

“And that is surprising to you because you do not understand yourselves.” The voice of his mate was firm. “My kind were birthed by a world where the death of one man could mean devastation for a whole community. For as long as we have written history, if a tribe ever dared to kill men, the bitterest of enemies would become allies in the name of their total destruction. Man-killing is the oldest and vilest of all sins.” Asyx’s elaborate forest of countless, varied green frills stuck upward, straight and pointed. “And what do we see on Earth? At the first sign of danger, your women send you out to get slaughtered. A son should never die for his mother; a male should never suffer for his mate– his protector…”

“That just isn’t our way!”

“How was ‘your way’ working for humanity?”

Matthias was silent. The Empire wasn’t right about a lot of things, but they were right about how dire humanity’s situation was. 

“It’s time to let your mates take over– your history and your world were full of unspeakable atrocities and cruelties against man that are beyond what we have witnessed in any other species we have encountered.” Asyx wasn’t blind with rage, but was impassioned beyond what Matthias would’ve anticipated. “Axla’s final campaign was controversial, but the Admiralty did not take her to task for her actions. When Axillis revealed Earth to us, it was like finding a planet of child slaves! Countless men –a people’s most precious possession– squandered, abused, destroyed in endless rounds of bloodshed for thousands and thousands of years!”  

“Our problems weren’t just their fault. Our men were just as much to blame for our problems, if not more–”

“That is not true!” Asyx rebuked him sharply. “You lived in hell for thousands of years. Of course you were corrupted by it. You were forced to occupy the rightful role of the woman, and the result was a beautiful race driven to the verge of extinction.” She rose from her seat, and stood to her full, ten foot height. Her impressive green luster shone in the bright white of the interrogation room. Every patch of darker scales on her muscled form was surrounded by splotches of lime-green hues. “But it’s over now… the work is done. Your women get to live in peace and comfort, and have all things provided for them in honor of the men who loved them. Axillis is merciful to them, but they lost the right to Her greatest blessing.” She walked around the table, until she stood behind him.

Matthias didn’t know what to say. She was so zealous and righteously indignant. 

Such was to be expected of a Huntress, the most zealous and pious of all Daxy, but it still exhausted him.

He slumped in his seat, breathing in the sharp scent of her citrus-tinged sweetness. 

Then, at the feeling of claws on his shoulders, he sat up straight again. “Axillis is merciful to your females, but… she sent us to take care of you. Humanity is one of her greatest gifts to us.” Asyx’s voice and slight hiss were coarse, tinged with a distinct edge… just like her heady pheromones. 

I’m a gift? 

The pleasant thought penetrated the haze of pheromones tinting his mind a sickly sweet pink. 

But the thought didn’t penetrate deeper, multiply, or dominate his mind. With his careful training, he was able to acknowledge the thought, and then let it go.

He kept his eyes shut. Natural exposure to her was no injection, but still, it was curious to watch his own heart flutter at the suggestion of his value.

You mean so much to her.

She would never lie to you.

Curious. Asyx’s natural pheromones were stronger than the average daxy, no doubt.

The towering daxy crouched downward on her digitigrade legs until the rounded bottom of her breasts tickled his hair. “The Goddess did not give her daughters the gift of simple men, but of men who test us, who need us more than any other. Your loyalty –one of your noblest attributes– first works against us, until it inevitably becomes ours.” She squeezed his shoulders with force, but without pain, demonstrating her knowledge of the human body’s finer details. 

He wanted to tell her that her assumptions were wrong, that she didn’t understand humanity. What the daxy did wasn’t right. Yet no long rebuttal came to him. 

Asyx wasn’t like many who served the Empire. She could feel her character in the restraint she showed handling his body.

“Please, I know we don’t see eye to eye on your females, or the Induction, but–” Her tone showed a surprising amount of desperation. “My mate, I want to know you– to hold you– to help you.” She ran a claw along Matt’s neck and across the nicotine patch which she had mercifully provided him earlier. “Please, don’t hold back. Show me your heart. I hate seeing you locked up in these chains.”

He could’ve told her to go to hell, but he didn’t. “You asked about my family earlier; my mom and my sister?” A simple, sheepish admission followed. “Not everyone made it to Mars, Asyx.” He turned his head to look back and up at the daxy.

“No.” Asyx squeezed at him lovingly, beside the nicotine patch at the base of his neck. “Not everyone did.”

Matthias was suddenly back there again. Zion –his home– was ablaze. He had come as a part of General Houston’s army to save their mothers, their daughters, and their sisters.

Axla’s forces descended like lightning; too many failed to evacuate in time.

Those he loved were used as bait. 

Bait which worked.

“Axla reached my town and–” Matthias’ thoughts were interrupted by a ringing from Asyx’s PDA.

“I’m sorry, sweet one.” The Huntress pauses her massage of her human mate, crouching down to kiss the nape of his neck. “Later, you can tell me everything,” she whispered, reassuring. “Promise.”

Matthias nodded idly. She was his enemy, yet he found himself leaning back into her. It wasn’t her pheromones or the pleasant shocks that followed them, but her encompassing, protective stance behind him. 

“I’m still conducting my interview…” Asyx spoke into her metal-cased PDA, her voice hesitant as she tried to turn down a request on the other side of the line. “I recommend giving us more time alone before…” 

Asyx went quiet as she was interrupted. There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry, of course. I don’t mean any disrespect, Colonel, it’s just that you have very difficult history with my mate and his–”

Matthias froze in place at her words.

“Yes… I understand that the situation is urgent.” Asyx sighed, but swallowed down any further complaint. “Yes, Colonel, we’ll be ready for you after you check on her.” With the curt reply, she hung up and dropped her PDA onto the table. 

Colonel. The title repeated in Matthias’ mind as her two claws returned to his shoulders.

The human didn’t react to the tender contact. Matthias stared blankly at his distorted reflection in the surface of the table. Surrounding his own image was the massive, green reflection of Asyx standing over him in her gold-trimmed uniform.

No.

An eternity with Asyx was better than a single minute with her.

Please, God. No.

“I’m sorry, my mate, it wasn’t up to me…” Asyx’s deep voice was apologetic. “Colonel Braxys needs to ask you a few questions.”

Chapter Text

Forty leaned back in her reclined terminal station. A central holographic projection and four vertical auxiliary displays were lit up with line after line of code, with the screen on the right displaying recent Assignments in white text on a dark background. 

Her eyes scanned over the alien spreadsheet, taking in the names of each human mate, their daxy partner, and the related probabilities and timestamps of their chosen assignment.

Runtime Remaining: Approx. 32 minutes

The glowing timer floated in the center of the room, above a three-dimensional block diagram of the Assignment Algorithm’s structure. Blocks representing neurons, weights, and smaller algorithms interconnected in a web of computational complexity. The diagram was very, very complicated, and yet, even then it was massively simplified. 

It was a program honed and adjusted over millennia of induction and conquest, and now she had the honor of working on it thanks to her mastery of AI and the more–primitive Neural Networks. 

The Administrator who had stolen her husband showed surprising trust by allowing her involvement, but not too much trust– all of her work was double-checked by Lixey, her daxy peer.

They were right to – the odds she would sabotage it otherwise were near-certain.

The little reptile sat on the opposite side of the circular holographic projector in his own terminal station. With two stubby claws, he waved upward in one quick motion, rotating his reclined seat until it was level with Forty’s.

“Dr. Penn.” He tapped at the terminal’s haptic interface next, and the four displays hanging in front of him parted in their center to either side of him. Without obstruction, his bright eyes now stared right through the translucent hologram. “Doctor?”

That’s not who I am.

Forty felt the eyes of the daxy on her. She wished she didn’t see him looking at her, as then she wouldn’t have had to intentionally ignore him.

The human woman breathed under the mass of her weight suit compensating for the reduced gravity of Mars. She shivered in the sixty-degree chill of the room.

“On the far end of your interface, there’s an orange symbol – the one shaped like an ‘h’ – that button turns on the heaters,” Lixey said. 

Forty reached for the button on the glass slate in silence. 

“Press it three times. That should make it warm, but not as hot as we like it.” He chuckled dryly.

Forty pressed the button. “Thanks,” the human doctor responded quietly. A low but noticeable heat formed evenly in the cocooning, angular cushions of her seat. Rather than just support the back, the seat surrounded her whole body, clearly a standardized design that was meant to be comfortable for long durations in moving space vessels.

Her right hand returned to the mouse set atop the haptic interface. The over-engineered, responsive touchscreen was nice, but she was old-school. Luckily, they dug out a mouse for her, though it required a strange wireless adapter and some programming to make it compatible with daxy tech.

She scrolled back and forth through the list of human names being run through the algorithm idly – if the probabilities and outcomes matched the expected result, then they were not far from being done.

“Forty.” Lixey sighed as he corrected himself, using the name she preferred. His short, leaf-like frills fluttered atop his head and down the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Forty sounded no less worn-out than the little man. “I’m so used to daxy being my enemy that…” Her situation was so absurd that she couldn’t help but smile. “I honestly don’t know what to say when one of you actually tries to help me.”

Lixey’s tail sticks through a hole in the back of his seat, much smaller than the diameter of the hole itself. “You’re just as used to helping us.”

“True.” Forty tapped at the controls to her station. “But I’m not doing it for you or Warden Vera.” The four vertical monitors separated down the center, rotating on their control arms.

With the monitors moved out of the way, Lixey and Forty made unobstructed eye-contact through the translucent, glowing hologram in the center of the room.

“Of course – you’re doing it for your daughter,” Lixey said. “Any true mother would do the same thing.”

Different parts of the three-dimensional, intricate web glowed briefly before dimming again. It was distracting for Forty to watch Lixey throughthe cloud of changing visuals.

The human woman shifted in her seat, rotating it from its reclined position until her line of sight was parallel with the floor.

“How are they?” Forty grabbed at her platinum wristband, her hand covering its worn-down inscription. “My children, I mean.”

Lixey nodded, and his frills twitched. A smile followed the gesture. “Kristen has plenty of friends and has taken an interest in biology. She’s running a little hydroponics project with a few of her friends and associates under the supervision of Relocation Administration – though I’m told they don’t watch her too closely.”

Kristen is a woman. Forty almost asked if she had taken an interest in anyone romantically, as she was now around the age Forty had been when she met her Adrian.

“What about Miles?”

Unlike the question about Kristen, this one did not earn an immediate response from the little reptile.

“Miles is… fine.” Lixey hesitated. “He takes after his father somewhat, working as an EM Engineer–”

“Adrian was always a physicist at heart,” Forty interrupted.

“Miles is much the same. Believe me; that is a compliment. For the last few years, he has been developing the Echo, a stealth frigate and warship, with a mixed human and daxy team. Despite being quite young, I hear he is a natural leader.”

Mary Penn's grip on her bracelet tightened. “Adrian and I always saw a lot in our Miles – Kristen too.”

“I’m sorry that Vera and I couldn’t arrange a meeting with him.”

She put up a hand. “You’re doing what you can. I miss Miles; I miss him and the rest of my family more than the world, but…” Forty inhaled deeply, averting her eyes from Lixey. “Before today, I thought that I wasn’t going to be reunited with any of them until the eternities.” She spun her tarnished bracelet about her wrist.

“That’s right–” Lixey blinked, tilting his head. “Much of Zion believes that families persist beyond time.” He looked uncomfortable at the similarity. “Just as we do.”

Both of them are quiet.

The Maxillae Supercomputer, through the window behind Forty’s, whirred and clicked as a group of drones flew through the warehouse and cycled the DNA storage drives.

“So when this is all over…” Forty begins, tentative. “And we’ve passed beyond the veil, will Adrian be with me, with Commander Nyx, or with the Administrator?” She tried to restrain the edge to her voice, tapping against the corner of her interface. “What about my children?”

“I do not know, Forty,” Lixey admitted, eyes glancing up at the blinking diagram of the Assignment Algorithm. “But I do know that Axillis is fair and that her and Lax’s love is perfect for all people. If Adrian belongs with you, then that is where he will be.”

“So God is fair.” The human doctor’s underlying cynicism about the idea was obvious. “Or your gods are, at least.”

Lixey’s stubby, filed-down talons clicked against his station. “It’s hard to believe at times, but we must. Else we see only what is unjust and attribute it to divinity.”

…we charge God foolishly…

Forty’s terse expression softened, her taut, pink lips turning downward and her brow angling upward. “I know,” her voice wavered, and she clutched her bracelet, pushing it firmly against her wrist. “You sound like Adrian.”

Lixey responded with an uncertain but sincere grin that wrinkled the soft scales of his maw. “Ah–” His slit-eyes were alive with intelligence. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Both of them were silent again, looking to the holographic display

25 Minutes Remaining…

“So, if you don’t mind me asking–” Forty started, her hands gliding along the control panel absently. “What is Miles up to?”

The Daxy doctor kept his eyes on the holographic display for a few seconds. “I may not be able to tell you,” he said. “Regrettably.”

A darkness passed across his features, and he pulled at his little lab coat.

“Is he dead?”

“No, no–” Lixey was quick to answer. “Nothing like that. The truth is just quite strange.”

“Then trust me with the truth, doctor.” Forty’s fleshy fingers gripped at the edge of the haptic glass. “He’s my son. I deserve to know, and you know that.”

“Whether or not you ‘deserve’ the information is not in question.” He looked down from the hologram and toward Forty. “If I were to argue that you didn’t ‘deserve’ it, I would be wrong.”

The human was quiet as Lixey sighed. “Think you could tell me in… twenty-three minutes?” She glanced pointedly at the remaining time on their simulation. “Why not now?”

“It’s a strange story.”

“It involves my family.” she shrugs with a little bit of self-awareness. “Of course it’s strange.”

Lixey’s scaly brow shifted upward. After a moment of thought, he leaned forward in his seat. “Are you sure about this? I’ll let you decide, but for your sake, I don’t want this to get in the way of our work.”

“You’ve offered me a chance to be reunited with my daughter. Nothing you could tell me would get in the way of this.” She raised her wrist, vaguely pointing to the evolving, glowing diagram of the Algorithm.

Lixey eyed the platinum band around her wrist.

Miles is nineteen now.

Forty knew what that meant, but she was going to wait until the daxy said it. She felt the vague warmth of the station's heaters warming her back. “I just want to know if my son is okay, Lixey.”

The daxy nodded. “I know.” He shut his eyes. The poor man looked cornered, searching for a way out, but finding none.

He wasn’t compelled to tell her, but he believed it was the right thing, just like she did.

There was no escaping that.

“Your son’s Assignment Application went up a few weeks ago.” Lixey’s narrow shoulders relaxed with acceptance. He made direct, unflinching eye contact with Forty. “Axla Braxys put in a request. Your son ran with a co-worker of his, Flight Chief Rax Fesyx, and they have yet to be located.”

“Colonel Braxys?” The thought of that monster with her son made her physically ill.

To rub some salt into the wound of the subjugation of her entire species, the arch-nemesis of mankind was going to take her only son. No doubt she’d reinforce her delusions by making him spend his life playing ‘House ’.

Yet she took greater satisfaction in the thought that Axla was denied what she wanted.

That’s my boy.

She processed the disgust, the shock, and the gladness all at once. Her sick satisfaction must’ve shown on her face, because Lixey’s own serious expression twisted into one of distaste.

“Good.” In case it wasn’t clear enough, she made sure he knew how she felt.

Lixey’s frown deepened.

“I suppose it makes some sense – my husband gets taken as the prime prize by Paxi. So our son gets taken by the ‘Hero of Earth’.” She shook her head, clearly struggling to respond in a measured way.

Lixey cocked his snout, his expression regretful.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.” Forty cleared her throat and straightened her back. “I’m okay, I’m okay…”

Lixey didn’t look convinced. “Still want to hear more? It might be best to wait–”

“It’s my family, doctor. Let me worry about how I react.” A familiar desperation returned to her voice. “I need to know.”

The daxy shook his head, scolding himself prematurely for being soft to such a petition.

“Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Lixey moved back and forth, settling into his seat. “It started when Flight Chief Fesyx, your son, and his friend blew a hole in the side of the station they were all living on. Braxys reinstated and recruited Commander Nyx — whom you are already acquainted with — to find them, and the chase was on…”

You lean over the polished metal console, one hand resting on a red-handled lever and eyes staring between the metal slits of the blast shield.

Through the glass is the synchrotron of the Needle’s Eye — the second stop for accelerated matter before its final destination: the world bridge contained within its circumference.

Through the metal slits, you spot Rax below, in front of one of many separate control panels. A screen, about the size of an average TV, casts her and your father in light as he points at it, before gesturing at one of many adjacent levers, valves, buttons, and switches.

Rax’s tail is still behind her, and a claw is raised to her chin as she follows your father’s movements and instructions carefully.

Her back is turned to you, but you can tell that she is really listening.

You can’t hear on the other side of the control room’s thick glass; still, you know what your father is telling her.

He was giving final instructions on managing the liquid helium flow into the synchrotron’s two-hundred-foot ring. In theory, it was simple — but in reality, it was a fine balancing act, and one person allowing in too much or too little helium from their part of the system would mean failure.

Which would mean no safety in Zion.

You’d be stuck.

“Is Finn okay?”

You look to your right at your adoptive mother.

Nyx is dressed in modern daxy fashion — probably packed by her before your dad and her made their escape. A double belt-buckle binds up her white, form-fitting pants, and a deep blue zipper-shirt covers her top, pressing her bust against her chest.

“Finn?” Clenched tight around one of the many levers on the panels before you, your hand had searched for something to grip. “He’s still recovering, but—” You let go. “I think he’ll be alright.”

Nyx reciprocates your slight smile, eyes occasionally looking down at Rax and your father on the floor below.

Still, her teal eyes look tired, and she is clearly hesitant to accept your belief that Finn will be okay.

“Finn has waited a long time to be alright.” Her smile falters and for a second, her voice wistful. “A very long time.”

“A lot of us have.”

The face of your troubled father comes to mind.

“I’ve prayed for Finn many times.” Nyx’s spiny frills twitch. They are packed into a frill-sleeve like a foot into a sock, except the white, hyperelastic textile slid over each shoulder-length frill individually, all the way to the base. “I have not done that for all of the males in my Guardianship.”

“I have prayed for him, too.”

You remember him hanging limply over Reesa’s shoulder.

‘God, please help him.’

There’s a comfortable silence, until you change the subject. “So, if we get to Zion — when we get to Zion — ” you correct. “What are we going to do?”

“Celebrate.”

“Sure, but after that.”

Nyx snickers in her characteristically mature tenor. “No, Miles, I meant our Joinings — or ‘Weddings’, in human terms.”

You blink. You’d mated with Rax, so this was the natural next step – to be bound forever.

“You and Rax, myself and your father.” Nyx holds a claw to her abs, composed mostly of tight muscle with just the slightest, plush curve. “For Axillis to find our relationships to be pure before her, we must be Joined — or married, if your father so wishes."

Did you want a wedding or a joining?

“Why not both?” you shrug, at least playfully embracing the idea.

“Why not both,” Nyx repeats in the affirmative.

You look out onto the floor of the Needle’s Eye.

Your father pats Rax on the shoulder as he seems to give her final instructions. He soon turns to walk away from her and toward you, disappearing under the control room and from your line of sight.

Rax then turns around and looks up to you, adjusting the zipper on her fatigues a few inches. She puts two thumbs up to you, their talons skyward and her quills twitching up and down with excitement.

“Looks like they’re done,” Nyx says, peering over at Rax from your side. She had stepped right next to you while you were watching your mate.

With her this close, a familiar feeling of safety and belonging fills your chest. Her voice vibrates you.

When Nyx was near, you felt like nothing could hurt you, and anything that tried would regret it.

“Hey, Nyx—” you look up at her hesitantly.

Is this what having a mom is like?

A mom.

“Nyx, I don’t think I’ve said it yet, but thank you for coming to save me.”

Nyx tilts her snout down toward you, listening intently.

“You took a big risk flying that ship down into Bryce Canyon — you could’ve been shot down or worse. And if you didn’t come, I’d be…”

You grab at your neck, feeling the faint bump of a healing injection site to the left of your windpipe. You feel Axla’s arms carrying you into the snowy night and her lukewarm blood dripping down your hands and arms.

Nyx lets you parse out your thoughts.

“Know what? Doesn’t matter what could’ve happened,” you say with firmness, pushing away the memory. “The point is, I owe you my life and… honestly, I owe you everything.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Nyx reaches up to run her claws through your hair in a practiced, affectionate motion.

“But you sacrificed so much…”

Her claw settles on the back of your head after another pass through your hair. “And I’d do it all over again.” Her voice wavers, her claw gripping firmly to the back of your neck, as if afraid to let go.

She would?

“When I have you and your father, I have everything I need.” She emphasizes ‘everything’ with a squeeze against your soft skin.

A deep need you never knew you had finally felt satisfied. Your heart pounds in your ears. Warmth seems to radiate from her bright purple scales as her hand cradles the back of your head protectively.

The unconditional love of a parent.

Family.

“I don’t have a mom anymore, but—” You shake your head, the light in your soul making the truth undeniable. “No, I do. I do have a mom.”

There’s silence as moisture collects in Nyx’s eyes.

“Mom.” You meet her eyes directly — they widen and tremble at the wonderful word. “I love you.”

Your mother doesn’t respond immediately.

Uneasy, you ask, “Can I call you—” Before you can finish, you’re pulled into a crushing hug.

“Oh, my son.” she cries out, her tail curled upward and her arms shaking. “My child—” your mother weeps as you share your warmth. “Nothing would make me happier. ”

Dropping to her knees, you can now embrace the nearly nine-feet of protective, nurturing muscle and scale more fully. Your head, now level with hers, rests on her padded shoulder.

“Mom.” You speak quieter, much closer to her ear canal. “Thank you…” It’s hard to articulate what you’re feeling when your heart is full to bursting. “Thank you for saving me.”

At first, the thanks seemed like a small thing, but a flurry of love and loss now threatens to draw tears from the both of you.

Loss?

It was undeniable, but what did you lose?

“I would never leave you, my son.” Your daxy mother nearly shakes you, with one hand petting repeatedly at your hair, the other rubbing up and down your back through the soft fabric of your white, button-up shirt. “Kixma would never leave you.”

Mama would never leave you.

At those words, a vague moistness in your eyes collects at the corners. The little knot of the tie around your collar presses into your collarbone with the force of your embrace.

Nyx’s faint, tropical-sweet scent was home, soothing your anxieties about the imminent test of the Needle’s Eye.

Reaching over her shoulder and around her side, you desperately cling to her, nearly every part of you enveloped safely.

Held in the arms of your mother.

You shut your eyes tight to see images of a brunette standing over you.

You must’ve been young.

You were so very young.

“Mama’s got you,” she had said as she picked you up.

Green eyes. A soft, nurturing grasp.

Your little hands grip at the lapel of her white coat.

Mama’s got you, Miles.

It feels amazing — liberating, even, so why does it hurt, too?

You blink tears from your eyes, dripping from your face and onto Nyx’s shoulder

You breathe sharply, clenching your hands to fists and feeling the soft textile of her shirt between your fingers.

With perfect instinct, she senses the sudden pain that has come over you, and begins cooing and tittering. She remains firm for you in the face of your desperation, her voice now calm and soothing.

“Mama is not going to let go of you.” Your mom reassures you. “Everything I sacrificed for you was freely given, Miles.”

You sniffle, listening to her as she stroked her claws up and down your back in regular motions.

“You won’t understand until you have children, but—” Nyx’s voice reflected the glow still in your chest. “I’d pay any price for you, Miles.” She nuzzles into you with the top of her snout.

You feel the line of scar tissue atop her snout against your cheek — a token of your mother and father’s first encounter.

“I would give my life for you,” she says.

You nod in acknowledgement, not quite able to muster the words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Nyx looks straight ahead as she holds you firmly. “Pi sapi kixma xilta pa.”

Mama will keep you safe.

Pi mi kixma.

You are Mama’s.

You recognize them as lines from a daxian lullaby your mom sang to you a long, long time ago as your Counselor and Guardian.

She rocks the two of you back and forth, not enough to send you off balance, but enough to soothe. Even as you lapse into silence, neither of you wants to let go.

“Love, is everyone else ready?”

Your eyes open as Mom speaks over your shoulder to another who’s entered the room.

The soft foot-fall tells you that they’re your father.

Dad had seen your embrace with Nyx, only reluctantly responding to her. “Yes, everyone is ready to start when we are.” It’s clear that he doesn’t want to break up the embrace between you and Mom.

You sniffle one last time as you and her pull apart at last. She stands to her full height, rising far above you like before.

Your mother is positively beaming, blue slit-eyes darting up and down your body — even more attentive than usual. She rakes her claws through your hair, setting a few strands in order that had been put out of place.

Her expression searches your eyes. She’s looking to see if you’re okay.

You reach up with the long sleeve of your white dress shirt, soaking up whatever tears remain around your eyes. White button-ups were one of the only things the scientists here left behind that fit you well.

“I’m ready, Mom—” You look over to your father. “–Dad. Let’s do this.”

Your father’s smile quivers at the edges. He raises his eyebrow and looks away, uncertain at your words. He wears the white shirt and black pants he had as the administrator’s mate– distinguished by its gold trimming and four daxian characters on the left sleeve and the right pant leg.

“Love, are you alright?”

Adrian blinks once at Nyx, who bolsters his smile enough for him to focus back on you without wavering. Your dad speaks with humble gratitude, walking up to you and Mom. “Sorry, son—” he apologizes for his faltering composure. “I just never thought we’d be a family again.”

“Soon, we’ll have everything we ever wanted.” Nyx speaks with a gentle smile, but a glint in her eyes. “Adrian, I think I decided which Token I want to get you.”

“What–”

“Are you three ready up there or what?” Rax’s voice plays through the nearby console, just below the reinforced glass pane spanning the side of the control room.

“Looks like it’ll have to be a surprise…” Nyx’s tail slithers back and forth, wrapping around your father’s legs before holding onto them, and then letting go.

Your mom steps away from you and your father and to her place a few stations away.

We have work to do.

Chapter Text

“Matthias.” 

The bound missionary’s hands were clenched into fists. He tapped his index finger against the polished, composite-alloy table in an uneasy rhythm.

The nicotine patch his captor had mercifully applied to the back of his neck could not take all of his anxiety away. 

This interrogation room had been his home for hours now, and in case Huntress Asyx wasn’t enough, another former Huntress was approaching to conduct an interview. 

The massive, ten-foot Asyx stood over him. The daxy’s clawed hands massaged his back and shoulders with grace.

“Asyx, I can’t do this,” Matthias muttered, eyes fixed on his despondent reflection in the table’s surface. His brown eyes sagged with unusual distress. “Not her. You can ask me anything you want, but—”

“It is my understanding that Colonel Braxys will interrogate you on a matter which I have not.”

“I don’t get it.” The man turned back in his white button-up, a tear extending from the right side of his chest to just above his waist. Beneath were white garments, still mostly hidden by his shirt. 

His blue suit coat and other personal objects had been cleared from the table, and set inside of a locker built into the right wall. “You’re both working to find Zion,” he said with a frown.

“This matter is more personal.” She punctuated her sentence with an especially tight squeeze of his shoulders. “This is not about finding Zion — not exactly.”

“‘Not exactly’?” Matt scoffed. “Subjugating my race is all she cares about.” 

“I do not believe so, my love. She has good intentions.”

His ‘mate’s’ sincerity was undeniable, yet he had seen Braxys’ ‘good intentions’ before. 

One with experience was never subject to another’s opinion, and he had experienced plenty at the hand of humanity’s conqueror.

The Empire’s ‘humanitarian concern’ stopped being sympathetic the moment Axla wasn’t tried and sentenced to death for what she did.

A beep came from the door. 

Matthias froze at the noise like a deer in headlights. The tapping of his calloused fingers against the table ceased.

It’s not like there was much to see in the off-white interrogation room in the first place, but now his eyes fixed on the door immovably.

He imagined a worn-down warehouse. A squad of soldiers, led by Braxys herself, descending on him and his brethren. 

Taking his men.

Echoes of those who came before. He could almost hear their lost voices.

“I’m proud of you, Matt. We all are.”

“Matty — son. We’re so glad you’re home.”

Echoes of eternity pricked at his heart.

The door slid upward and into the ceiling. Standing in the doorway was the imposing Colonel Axla at over nine feet in her new armor.

He recognized the burn scar beneath her eyes, yet her gaze itself was unrecognizable — tender, even.

“New scar.” Matthias grit his teeth, eying the healing puncture on the Colonel’s snout, if only to avoid her eyes. “I like it. Shame Reesa missed your head.” 

Asyx gripped Matthias’ shoulders more firmly from behind, but not to the point of pain. 

Matthias feared that Asyx might apologize for his words, but she did not.

Axla stepped into the room without reacting to his provocation. Her new, midnight blue suit of hexagonal-scaled armor lacked the adornment of her cape, Imperial Sigils, or her Huntress’ Axillian Marks. 

If the brand new armor wasn’t so obviously advanced, he would be tempted to call it downright modest. 

She simply looked down at him from her great height.

Bio-sealant and filler materials coated the surrounding red-scales of her snout’s slit-wound in slightly fluorescent, pale green. Her body’s own pinkish scar tissue had yet to fully repair the puncture. 

“Huntress Asyx,” Axla spoke softly. “Will you excuse us for a moment?” 

Asyx was quiet, before stepping away from her mate and bowing. “Yes, Colonel.” She showed Braxys a frustrating amount of respect.

Like many daxy, Asyx, though honorable, had been deceived by the Colonel and the Empire, just as Lucifer deceived a third of the hosts of heaven into rebellion before the world was.

A comparison between Axla and any other being but Lucifer was not strong enough — not weighed with enough condemnation. 

Asyx walked around the table and went for the exit. Matt’s future mate glanced over her shoulder at him. 

Axla noticed her anxiety and stopped the passing Huntress with a hand on her shoulder before she reached the door. “Huntress, I will not bring him harm. You must know that.” Her voice was low and serious. “You will have your mate soon.”

She gave a slight nod, her glistening eyes full of less worry, but no less longing. “Thank you, Colonel.” Asyx walked past the Colonel and the door slid down behind her with a quick swipe of her claws over the circular pheromone-sensor. 

In just a matter of seconds, Matthias went from slight distress to heart-pounding fear and spite.

The presence of Asyx had held something back – something which now came over him and pained his heart with terror.

Despite the tempest within, he maintained eye-contact with her. 

He did not falter, and neither did Axla. 

Before she spoke, the Colonel made sure to sit at the other side of the table, dragging the daxy-sized chair back, sitting in it in her sleek, form-fitting armor.

She placed her gloved hands flat on the table, but his were still clenched tight. 

“Matthias, I…”

“Go to hell.” 

Stunningly, rather than him, it was her who averted her eyes to glance upward.

Instead of looking toward heaven like her, he kept his own gaze trained — almost unblinkingly — on her. His face was pale. His stomach was churning.

The Colonel’s expression was terse. She blinked, as if she didn’t know what to do.

“Matthias, I know that you despise me. Administrator Paxi’s son, Sawyer, is sick. It is very possible that he will die.”

“And you want my help? Really?” Matthias’ heart felt sick. A thought crossed his mind.

You are a servant of God.

He ignored it. “…like you ‘helped’ my sister and my mom? Like you and Jude ‘ helped’ my men? Like Asyx is helping me? ”

“There are few women better than Huntress Asyx, Elder Carter.” Despite Matthias’ berating, she was not deterred. “But I know that humans resent capture and assignment.”

“‘Elder Carter?’” he asked.

“I was under the impression that the ordained elders of Zion preferred to be called after that manner."

“You…” He could hardly find the words. “So intelligent, and yet you still can’t see...” He nearly spat. “The pain you cause? And you walk in here to ask me ? Everything in my life turned to shit because of you!” 

Axla was silent. She leaned forward, bringing them closer to eye-level as she simply listened.

He continued. “Do you understand the blood and the horror your reign brought to my people?” 

She interjected quietly. “This is not about Zion.”

“‘Not about Zion’?” He repeated in disbelief, nearly screaming. “What, are you coming down here to say sorry!” 

My son, be still.

Firm promptings from deep within stirred him from his rage.

Judgment is mine, said the still, small voice. Listen.

He fell silent.

“What do you want from me?” He asked finally, plopping back in his seat.

“I do not want a location, Elder Carter. I simply need the transponder information to ensure that Zion is the only recipient of a message which Paxi wants to send to Dr. Penn concerning their son.”

The missionary leaned back and folded his arms, pulling the chains binding him to the table taut. “Why? ”

“Should a father not know when his tender son is on the verge of death?” Her question was blunt. “What happened to Zion’s admirable reverence for family?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about family.” He snapped. “Nothing is sacred to you.”

You didn’t stop your pillaging band of animals from doing whatever they wanted to. 

If only the Lord would have permitted me to raise my hand, and command the mountains to flee and the rivers to turn out of their course. 

To have saved them…

“You know what I think of when I think about you, Colonel?”

Axla was now the one who was quiet. 

“The blood of the innocent women who suffered — because of you — crying up from the Earth. How long do you think God — or even your goddess — will let their blood go unpunished — unjustified?” He looked up at her narrow snout with squinted, brown eyes. “You will suffer for what you have done,” he promised.

The puncture in the center of Axla’s bright, red-scaled muzzle was highlighted in the white light. 

Her eyes glistened with moisture. They trembled, even. “I have suffered, Matthias,” she admitted regretfully.

She leaned forward, glancing down at him with disconcerting compassion in her eyes.

“I see that you have suffered too, because of me,” she added. “I’m sorry for all the pain that you have felt at my hand, sweet one.” 

Matthias’ mouth parted to respond, but no response came. Her words struck him with force, despite being so soft-spoken.

Her voice darkened with desperation. “Do not deprive a boy of his family simply to spite me. Do you know how many siblings Sawyer has?”

“No.”

“Five.” She gripped the edge of the table with firmness. “They will go without their father because a colleague of mine convinced him to run off with her.”

“Commander Nyx.”

Colonel Braxys offered a brief, small smile. “I see you are well-acquainted with the pertinent facts as always, Elder Carter.”

“I didn’t go on a mission to bring Miles back, just to not do my reading first, did I?”

“You brought much, much more than good research — Counselor Reesa deserting her seat at the Empress’ side is curious to me.” Her voice piqued, more intrigued than offended by the prominent turn-coat. “President Shepard almost convinced me into believing in beneficial coexistence — just as he deluded himself. I’m surprised that one as wise as Counselor Reesa fell under his spell, but I suppose Shepard was right about some things, in the end…” she trailed off, blinking.

“It wasn’t Shepard.” Matthias sighed, holding back. “You know, you might think you’re sorry, but that’s not enough.” His scathing voice denied her any lenience or benefit of the doubt. “You still don’t get it.”

“My problem was one of means, not ends.”

“So it wasn’t wrong to take Zion?” He squinted critically, the wrinkles under his eyes tensing with his furrowed brow. “I thought you didn’t come here for Zion.”

“I did not.” She sighed heavily. The hexagonal scales of her armor adjusted freely with the straightening of her shoulders — the advanced design not restricting her graceful movement. It was like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. “I apologize… I am trying to not seek my own interests. It is a recent change — I am used to us being at odds. More than once I promised you to my women with the desire to ‘put you in your place.’ I now see that this is wrong.”

“Spare me , Colonel — we are enemies. We always will be.”

The Colonel cocked her head. She frowned deeply. She tapped her gauntlet-clad claw against the surface of the table, creating a dull tap against the light alloy. 

“You are not going to give me what I need,” she stated it as a certain fact. “I see it in your heart.”

There was a tense silence. The thrum of the Fleet’s flagship reactor and the whir of the environmental systems filled the lapse.

“No. I won’t.” Matthias rose up and onto his feet until he stood slightly above the seated Colonel. He leaned forward, the interwoven chain which tied him down dragging against the surface of the table. “You want to keep families together?” He extended his wrists halfway across the table, which were as far as his bindings would permit him. “Should’ve thought about that before you ripped apart mine.”

“I am not the one asking, my beloved male. Administrator Paxi is the one who is truly seeking this information.” The Colonel’s eyes twitched briefly. Her slits dilated with a kind of vicarious desperation. 

Was her sorrowful expression one of pity?

“Sawyer may be running out of time,” she said. “Do you understand all that she would be willing to do — or what little she would not do — to communicate with her mate?” 

Matthias remained stretched across the table, meeting her eyes with fearlessness. 

“I don’t trust you and I sure as hell don’t trust Paxi." 

"You want to help your people?" Axla's stoic affect was betrayed by a sad glint in her deep-red eyes. "What do you think will happen, now that Adrian is in Zion? Do you think that will be the end of this affair?" She leaned forward.

"So what -- you've been looking for us for a long time and haven't found us." You’ve got an angle, and nothing can convince me otherwise.”

"Elder..." She inhaled deeply, looking down, and then up at him again. "If Dr. Penn does not return to Paxi on his own, finding your people changes from an inconvenient errand to a necessary duty. Do you think Zion's wherabouts will remain secret when it becomes her one and only purpose to find you?"

"You want me to give you codes? Transponder information?" He spoke with sharpness, the missionary clenching his fists. He leaned in His scruffy face. "Why don't you jab it out of me?" He leaned forward an inch or two, fearlessly spiteful in his stance.

There's a pained twitch and a momentary, absent look in Axla's eyes at his words. 

"Matthias..." Refocused, she growled in subdued, but real frustration. "Your people may think you're clever in avoiding us--"

"She won't find us."

"And how sure are you?" The Colonel's gloved hands tightened on the table, her armored tail coiling about its leg with autonomic tension. "You do not want Paxi finding your people before I do, sweet one."

"Why not?" He grit his teeth at her terms of alleged endearment.

"'Why not'? How well do you know the Administrator?" The Colonel shook her head, rebuking his ignorance. "Matthias, you'll torture yourself for not saving them when you had the chance."

“Miles.” 

You are leaned over one of the central consoles in the NEC’s long, rectangular Control Room.

Your father stands to your left and your mother to your right — your mother, that is, but to you, there is little difference.

“Miles?” 

You look to your left. Adrian stands in front of another control panel. Your father’s straight, brown hair has been flattened out. He’s been combing it back repeatedly with his fingers – a nervous tick no doubt. 

“Earpiece in,” he says with a sigh and a reassuring smile.  

You nod, taking a soft, silicone-like earbud from its resting spot in your pants pocket, and stick it into your right ear. After molding itself naturally to your ear canal, the soft material grows firmer, setting comfortably in place. It muffles the noises from the outside world until, with a beep, it starts passing through outside sound, creating the illusion that nothing is there at all.

Pulling your hand away from your ear, you set your hands down on the cold controls. There is a touch screen displaying a lot of information on each system, but below is a physical keyboard and trackpad. 

You glance once to your right. Nyx stands a few empty stations down. This control room is meant for anywhere between ten to twenty people, but you were reassured that it could be operated with three in a pinch. The sterile white light from rows of diffuse LEDs glare off of her violet scales.

Though older than Rax, she glows with a similar vitality – exhibiting the bright luster of youth while beside you and your father. 

She smiles gently at you, her slit-eyes making contact with yours from behind the bright blue of her AR visor, overpowered by the light of the control room — the room closer in brightness to the noon-day sun than an underground lab.

“Ready,” she says, her visor linking to the comm.

Your hands tap nervously against the mechanical, clicky keyboard.

Your Dad immediately takes point. “Helium-3 and Helium-4 levels are nominal – condensers operating within expected range. Current temperature maximum of two point one seven kelvin. Lowest temperature is zero point four kelvin.” Your father’s gold-framed AR glasses light up with data and other diagnostic information, even as he looks at the console in front of him. “Startup simulation is ready. All systems are responsive.” His fingers dance across the screen of his own control panel with an ease that gives away his talent and experience, typing and swiping away. With his other hand, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Ready here,” Ruth’s voice came through your earpiece. Her voice is quite deep for a human woman.

“C’mon, the fuck are we waiting for?” Rax’s voice was light and non-critical – her words designed to ease tension rather than create it. “Miles, you alright up there?” she adds with a nervous chuff.

“I’m fine,” you say. 

It’s strange to speak to her remotely when you were so used to being at her side or in bed with her. 

“You don’t sound fine – we’ll have to do something about that when this is over…”

Your face flushes at her suggestive tone. Uh oh. 

“Rax—” 

She interrupts you. “I can’t get you a token until we’ve tied the knot, but while you’ve been doing all this science shit, I’ve been modifying my emergency flight harness to fit your cute little ass in it with me. ”

Oh Lord.

“How about we try it out when we’re done with all this?” 

You bury your face in your hand. “Rax…” 

“What, it’ll be great!” 

“Fesyx, we can hear you too.” your father interrupts.  

“Oh.” Rax breaks the awkward silence which follows. “Shit. I thought the line was closed.”

“No–” Nyx isn’t uncomfortable like Adrian or yourself – in fact, she’s nearly casual. “Fesyx, tell me more about what you’ve been doing with your flight harness.” She looks past you to make eye-contact with your father. “Mating harnesses may not be abundant in Zion.”

You and Adrian look at her with a matching expression of bewilderment, though your father’s face is flushed a deep red at his mate’s words.

“‘Mating harness’?” your father mutters.

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “We’re trying for children, right? Mating harnesses are a prized tradition.”

“See — not a new thing,” Rax says, nonchalantly. 

“Right,” you add, finding whatever humor you can in this. “Daxy males are half the size of you guys, so I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Adrian snickers, self-aware of his own embarrassment. “Thanks, Fesyx. Now you’ve got both of us blushing up here.” 

“You’re welcome,” your mate says.

Nyx continues, despite your father’s embarrassment. “We wouldn’t use a harness until we’re joined or married, of course,” your mother is sure to say past you, leaning forward to make direct contact with your father, while you stand in the middle. “I have not forgotten our vow of chastity until then.”

“Good, good.” Adrian acknowledges.

“Glad this is cleared up.” Peter, the old doctor from Zion, is next to speak over the comm. “Am ready to start the test.” 

“Wait, he can hear us too?” Rax said.

Ruth sighs impatiently. “So can I…”

Your father leans over his console with both hands, glancing down the synchrotron in the massive room through the glass window. “He is the one operating the helium flow to the cyclotron in the system, so yes.”

“I thought scales was informed of this,” Peter says.

“My name is Rax, doc — and I knew you’d be on eventually, but you didn’t say anything when you got on the line.”

“I see.” Peter isn’t bothered by the mild rebuke. “Also, I will strive to refer to you by name, Miss Rax Fesyx.”  

“Wait, I did say something. Does that mean you wanted me to hear?” Ruth’s question brings a total, awkward silence.

“We…” you brave the silence. “We should probably get started.” You lean over your own control panel, exhaling heavily. Your touchscreen display showed the three main parts of the system. As the helium cooling distribution is usually controlled automatically, you have written the names of your team under each part of the system in dry-erase marker. 

STAGE A - FUSION REACTOR

RAX

STAGE B - CYCLOTRON  

PETER

STAGE C - SYNCHROTRON

RUTH

Gratefully, your father backs up your effort to change the subject. “Remember, we can practice more if we need to, but the helium pumping through the system isn’t simulated. These dry-runs wear down the valves and the hardware since there’s nothing hot for the helium to cool.”

“So we need to take this shit seriously,” Rax inferred. 

“Exactly. The better we do, the less runs we need to do — the less data we need to train the NEC’s computer — the better.”

“How different will it be from the system’s original operation?” Nyx asked. 

Your father sighs. “Well, we have the Echo’s helium tanks and fusion reactor joined to the NEC’s.” He nods in your direction, in acknowledgement of the work you have put into your ship. “–but it ultimately works the same way, just with shorter runs, hotter plasma, and less hydrogen…” He shrugs. “It wasn’t designed for this, but in theory, it should run better if we can manage it.”

“Only one way to find out,” you say.

At your words, each of you goes quiet. 

This test is the thing standing between you and getting to Zion.

You had to get this right, and you all knew it. 

Finally, your father reaches for the physical key plugged into his control panel. “Alright, Miles, hold your key.” 

As a somewhat old-school safety measure, both of your panels had physical keys, requiring two chief personnel to activate the Needle’s Eye. 

Following your father’s instructions, you reach out to take the key in your panel with a surprisingly steady hand. Twisting them would begin the actual startup sequence, so you simply hold to the cold metal. 

“Push it down, but don’t twist.”

You mirror your father’s own movements. With a firm press down onto the keys, the white lights overhead in the marble and black-speckled diorite control room tint a light yellow. 

The three metal shutters of the room’s long blast-shield rotate shut, blocking the view of the synchrotron below through the thick glass. The now-blocked window lining the wall turns out to be a transparent screen on your side of the glass. 

Rather than a single overlooking view of the main ring, video feeds of every part of the system appear, dividing what was a plain-looking piece of glass before into five separate screens. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath. 

The floor vibrates and hums as helium rushes into the forest of pipes beneath your feet and throughout the Needle’s Eye Complex.

“What?” your father asks with a raised voice.

“Nothing!”

The sound is loudest right as the system starts.

Your grip on the control panel key tightens until the sound of boiling, sub-zero helium diminishes.

“Nothing,” you repeat to your father. “Whoever was in charge of building this place really wanted to show off, didn’t they?”

Dr. Penn avoids your eyes to look at his angled control panel. “No question about it,” he mutters quietly. You both speak with the same light tone. 

Ruth chimes in. “Pride — it’s a sin Houston and the rest of my sisters addressed when they originally left Zion,” Suddenly, your comment was made into something more serious. “Pride is in all the scientists of Zion. ”

Rax takes it upon herself to respond for you. “I promise I’m not saying this just because you’re a human woman: but what the fuck are you talking about?”

Your father explains, without taking offense at Ruth’s jab at Zion’s scientists. “‘Showing off’ – it means you’re prideful.”

“I show off to Miles all the time, doesn’t mean I’m like Colonel Cunt. What’s the big deal?” 

There’s a pause.

“For what it’s worth, I like it when you ‘show off’ sometimes,” you add with a blush. “Doesn’t seem like a pride thing to me, at least not all the time.” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Your father straightens the neat, blue-striped tie around his neck. After scrounging up some clothes from around the NEC – he now looks like the spitting image of a human lab geek or one of Zion’s missionaries. He no longer wears the luxurious and expensive dress which he possessed as the Administrator’s mate — though he has not thrown it away. “Either way, the simulation is beginning in less than thirty seconds. Everyone, get your head in the game.”

“‘Get your head in the game?’” you ask.

Your father shrugs. “It’s some pre-Induction sports lingo. Basketball. Football.”

“Ah.” Some idioms did not make the cut in popular culture when the daxy invaded.

“You were saying?” Ruth butts in over the comm. 

“Sorry; you’re right, young lady — focus.” your father concedes to her with a paternal smile.

In reality, your father was already completely absorbed in the information displaying across his console. His position was that of ‘Overseer.’ All critical information on every part of the system would come up on his display, meaning that if there was a serious problem, he would see it.

Your position, marked with a brass plaque on your console, was that of ‘Power Systems Engineer.’ You monitored the temperature of the hydrogen plasma flowing through the system from the Echo’s fusion reactor, all the way to the Needle’s Eye world bridge at the end. 

Your job is arguably the most important, in terms of making the Bridge open. 

If the plasma isn’t flowing fast or hot enough through the stages, the Needle’s Eye wouldn’t have enough power – blowing your one real shot at making it to Zion. 

Luckily, you were going to have hundreds of practice simulations to get it right.

If we need that many…

Your mother speaks from the control panel on your right. “Helium condensers at maximum capacity. Temperatures are three-fifths of a kelvin across the board, and we’re ready for startup.” Her visor flashed, likely converting some of the values to Daxian units she better understood.

“I’m reading the same over here,” your father confirmed. “Conditions are perfect for simulated startup.” 

MANUAL STARTUP SIM - TRIAL 1 (HELIUM SENSOR READING ACTIVE) - 25 Sec.

On the screens overhead, with each major section of the Needle’s Eye displayed, it is easy to see just how big this place really was. The synchrotron has its own warehouse-sized space just below your control room, but the other parts of the system required a lot of space in their own right. 

On the far left was the hangar bay with the Echo, your ship glinting in the bright light. The camera switched to an interior view of the engineering bay, where you see Rax standing near the center. On the NEC hangar’s lift platforms, you had your ship lowered to the story below the NEC’s hangar.

Next was the cyclotron in a room with blue walls – essentially a metal and concrete cylinder turned onto its side. It occupied the story below the synchrotron, the entire room filled with a mess of pipes and wires.

The gray-bearded doctor Peter stood beside it, looking up at an intimidating wall of buttons and switches. His hands were already taking hold of the circular helium valve, ready to turn it according to Nyx’s instructions.

Next came a camera feed of the control room you were currently standing in, then the tangled pipe-dream mess of the mechanical room, and lastly, the Needle’s Eye itself – the circular synchrotron ring behind and below the closed blast shield right in front of you.

MANUAL STARTUP SIM - TRIAL 1 (HELIUM SENSOR READING ACTIVE) - 8 Sec.

“Get ready,” your Father says quietly. His eyes are squinted in intense focus. “Remember, it’s just a practice run, we can do this.”

“Yes, we can.” Nyx speaks with even more confidence than your father. 

She probably just gets less nervous under pressure.

“5.” Adrian begins the final countdown. 

“4.”

Your fingers press more firmly on the keyboard and trackpad of your station. 

“3” You and your father finish the countdown together. 

“2”

“1” 

“Start!” 

His word is like a starting pistol. The stable and uninteresting readings on your display become much more interesting, very quickly.

Plasma Temperature - REACTOR - 12,124 K (SIMULATED)

You watch that first number increase exponentially 

33,993 K

104,042 K

The impressive performance of the Daxy's advanced fusion technology is put on display. 

“Ruth, dear—” Nyx is the first to break the quiet tension with a command. “The Synchrotron is getting three percent more helium than it should be this early in the run.”

“On it.” 

You could also know if a part of the system was not getting enough helium if it began to overheat. 

“Peter, you’re minus five.” Your mother speaks with the firmness of a commander.

“Does that mean I’m five percent over or five percent under?” 

“Under. Open your valve more.”

“Yes.” His reply plays into your right ear.“ It is done .”

STAGE A - REACTOR

APPROX 3.98 MK - OKAY

STAGE B - CYCLOTRON

APPROX 6.42 MK - OKAY

STAGE C - SYNCHROTRON

APPROX 3.24 MK - OKAY

Stimuli — mere numbers on a screen — which had been uninteresting before are now overwhelming. 

There are only three critical values for you to pay attention to, but they’re fluctuating so quickly.

You tap away at the keyboard on your station. 

“Switch temperature graphs to logarithmic, base ten,“ you say.

The exponential temperature curves – all displayed on the same graph below the fluctuating temperature values themselves – become much more readable as the NEC’s computer fulfills your instructions.

“Rax—” Though two of the temperatures are trending upward, you notice that one is now curving significantly downward — beyond random fluctuations. “Love, we’re running too cold on the Synchrotron, what’s going on down there?” You look up at the camera feed of the Echo’s engineering bay. Rax is wearing some of her blue-patterned civilian clothes, eyes darting between the interface at her claws and the status indicators on the cylindrical reactor itself.

“Shit, give me a second, Miles.” She takes your frustration in stride, not rebuking you or taking offense. “I’m used to operating the Echo’s reactor from the pilot’s chair, not all of this.”

“There will be a learning curve. Don’t have a computer to help you — not until we’ve got the NEC trained on the modified system, anyway.”

A steep learning curve, if you had to guess. 

Still, she technically had more in-field experience operating reactors than you did. 

“Good thing I’ve got you, right?” She speaks with some of her usual cockiness, despite her deferential words.

You had to remind yourself that she was not a huge fan of this plan. 

“That you do.” You run your finger along your console’s trackpad, clicking the ‘ REACTOR CONTROL’ tab.

You glance up at the center display on the array of camera feeds.

MANUAL STARTUP SIM - TRIAL 1 - ELAPSED TIME 36 SECONDS

“Almost a third of the way there. Miles, how close are we to our target temperature?” your father asks. 

“About twenty-eight percent.”

If you ran out of hydrogen before you gave the Needle’s Eye enough energy, it was over. 

“Ruth, take the flow rate down ten percent,” your father says. “At this rate, we would run out of hydrogen before we get the Eye to open.”

“Adrian, are you sure about that?” Nyx, being the one in charge of the helium, is understandably cautious about letting the most delicate part of the system cook. 

“The system can take more heat, trust me — we need to get it hotter.” 

In-line with your father’s words, you make a few remote adjustments to the Echo’s reactor. “Rax, I’m increasing the compression field on the reactor up to fifteen percent. Give it a bit more helium.” In the final run, Rax will be controlling the reactor completely.

“Got it.”

In the camera feed of the Echo, she turns to her left and twists the valve on the foot-diameter pipe running across the deck. 

The pipe has been routed beneath an open floor panel and jerry-rigged into the Echo’s helium cooling systems – the handiwork of you, your father, and Rax.

“Peter, increase by six percent,” Nyx commands.

“Done,” Peter says in his aged voice after a brief adjustment. 

Watching the temperatures of the system increase from the mega-kelvin range and into the giga-kelvin range feels as dangerous as it is. Still, it’s exciting to watch the temperature of each part of the system race the others to the top. 

“Superconductor Temperature?” your father asks.

“Well below breakdown range,” you say.

“Reading the same here,” Nyx follows. “It’s higher in the Synchrotron, though — as expected and needed.”

You look to your father. “It’s well-insulated from the plasma.”

“That it is,” your father mutters under his breath. His hands rest uneasily on his controls, tense.

“We’ve passed one terakelvin in the synchrotron,” you report to the group. 

As perhaps the most significant milestone in the startup, one terakelvin meant the bridge could actually start to open. 

“We’re into the Eye’s operating range.” Your father gets even more involved, taking his eyes off of one screen to refocus them on another. “Initiating interface formation; location entanglement recognized and destination set.” 

MANUAL STARTUP - TRIAL 1 - ELAPSED TIME 54 SECONDS

OPERATING ENERGY REACHED – SIMULATING INTERFACE FORMATION 

“Einstein-Rosen Transience is high. Fifty-four seconds before the Interface would be safe to cross,” your father adds, excited despite the sub-optimal revelation.

You were close. 

Just one minute…

“Flight Chief,” Nyx interrupts your hopeful thoughts. “The plasma’s running too hot. Increase the cooling or it’ll cook the synchrotron.” 

Rax is quick to reply. “Negative, Commander Nyx. We have forty seconds left of plasma at the current temperature. I need to increase the temperature or we’d be shit out of luck.” 

“The fuck you do,” Ruth said, frustrated. “What happened to a thirty second transient period? That’s what Miles’ dad said.”

“Usually — but transience is chaotic.” Your father answers. “We’d have to start it at a higher temperature to be sure, but waiting for that also takes more hydrogen.”

Nyx exhales. 

Your head spins. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Though it was a simulation, your mother was slightly frustrated too. “Better we don’t make it then all die from exotic-matter decay,” she mutters frankly.

Despite the opposite opinion of your mother, your father encourages Rax’s idea to increase the temperature. “What else can we do? Turn up the heat, Fesyx.”

The command gives Rax the confidence to follow through. “I hear ya, Doc Nyx. Taking down helium flow by twenty percent and letting the reactor cook.” 

She is a quick learner.

Regardless, you swallow thickly at the risky move. 

You could increase the reactor’s compression rate to increase the heat, like Rax and your dad wanted.

Or you could reduce it like Nyx and Ruth wanted.

You instead watch the reactor’s operating values changes in real time through your own console. 

There are so many balancing variables and so many possible approaches. It makes you nauseous.

A few more seconds pass. 

Your eyes widen as you see all three temperature readings spike upward. “Dad–” 

“Transient feedback.” Your father beats you to the punch. “We talked about this–”

“We did?” Rax asks. 

“Ruth, open your valve all the way!”

“Got it.” As fast as she can, Finn’s sister obeys the instruction, but it doesn’t work fast enough. “How is–” 

The blaring of a klaxon in the control room announces the end of the simulation. 

MANUAL STARTUP - TRIAL 1 - ELAPSED TIME 68 SECONDS (TERMINATED)

CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE – SUPERCONDUCTOR COMPROMISED DUE TO HIGH TEMPERATURES

“Shit,” Rax says over the comm. “Well… it wasn’t due to the reactor, I don’t think. ”

“Are you sure, Flight Chief?” Nyx’s question is earnest, if not a little incisive. She folds her arms.

“I… think so?” 

Ruth can’t resist getting in a barb. “That might be the least over-confident thing I’ve ever heard you say, Rax.” 

She takes the failure in stride.

“Yeah, fuck if I know,” your mate says. “‘Transient feedback…’ I hardly understand any of this shit. Thought we were supposed to increase the temperature, Doc Nyx?”

In each of the camera feeds, you see Rax, Peter, and Ruth all withdraw their hands from their controls as the stinging and sudden feeling of failure comes over you.

Your mate’s tail slows in its regular rhythm, but doesn’t stop. 

“So if this was for real, we would’ve all just died?” Rax’s slight disappointment is imbued with a good amount of quiet fear. 

You can hear it in her unusually quiet voice coming through your earpiece.

“There’s a chance of it, yes.” Your father explains. 

He’s not as dispassionate as when you and your father first explained how all of this could go wrong. “Superconductor breakdown is the worst way all of this can end,” he continues. “The exotic matter would decay immediately and we would all get hit with… many medical x-rays worth of radiation.”

There’s another pregnant pause. You straighten your back and look first to your father, and then to your mother. 

With them at your side and with Rax in your ear, this nightmarish death felt more like an obstacle to be overcome.

Though you didn’t have any idea how you would manage it.

You hardly did anything that time, and you all failed.

Your eyes rest on the Echo’s camera feed displaying Rax. Your mate wore a neutral expression.

How is she not devastated like you?

You imagine her tail wrapped around you. You imagine that harness she’s talking about – your whole body pressed to hers with tightened, soft straps. Would she walk around with you tied to her? 

There are so many possibilities.

You actually liked that idea, but you weren’t going to tell her that, not now, at least.

“Well–” you address your group. “Let’s try again.”

Your father nods. “Again,” he confirms. “Resetting systems. Data saved. We’ll try to open up the Eye at a higher temperature, this time.”

Nyx puts her shoulders back, your mom’s nine-foot, scaly body straightening to attention. “We’ll keep doing it until we get it right.” 

Though she speaks in acknowledgement of the difficulty, her words also contain promise.

You could get it right. You would get it right.

But what if you didn’t? 

Fail this and you are never getting home.

Chapter Text

Forty reclined against the window at the far side of the little room in the Morauex complex's tech-lab. Her hair was slick from a shower this morning. In her hands was a pint of orange juice. 

The glass was far too big for her – very few prisoners in the Moreaux maximum security facilities were human and Warden Vera figured it was best to give her more instead of less. 

She rolled the orange liquid around, holding the dense glass with both hands.

She had already eaten, leaving her physically satiated, but not mentally satisfied. As the rush of liquid helium overhead rushed to cool superconducting elements in the room behind her, the face of her daughter appeared in her mind. 

A face appeared, but it was the face of a thirteen-year old. Bright-eyed. Smart. Gentle. 

Just like her father. 

Those virtues meant much to her, yet it was hard for her to see them in herself anymore. 

Yet, the gentle voice of her daughter came to her, from time to time. The guileless voice of a little girl. 

The sliding of a door perks her upward. 

Lixey, the little reptilian man walked in, his gait easy, yet his tail fluttering back and forth in calculated, uneasy motions.

“Lixey.” Forty smiled, flicking her eyes to the PDA clutched in his claws, then back to him. Her pose against the glass remained relaxed. “Give me some good news.” 

The screen was folded outward and its quantum-dot display glowed with the potential for vibrant color, though it only displayed a plain white and black document. 

Lixey met her eyes, the taut, faded scales of his lip indicating a more intense unease. 

“What’s going on?” Forty asked.

“Well—” he put the palm of his little clawed hand to his face. “We ran the training cycles again and it looks like we have conclusive results on how Kasvex and her 'Freemen' altered the Assignment Algorithm.”

He was wearing no AR glasses – they were stuffed in the breast pocket of his clean lab coat.

“That’s good news.”

He continued, closing his PDA’s foldable screen with a snap. 

“They inserted faulty training data into the special assignment pool, just like you thought—” he looked up with a wry smile. “But we still don’t know the exact nature of the changes. We need a lead to help sort through and pick out the bad data.”

“We feared this – needle in an exabyte-sized haystack. Even this supercomputer would take awhile to try and sort through them, let alone train it to know which pieces were added in.”

“That’s why we were hoping Kasvex herself would give us something.” The little man reached down, fumbling with his AR glasses and slipping them on, over his snout. The unsteadiness of his hands made it difficult. “Kasvex has indicated that she is willing to talk in her interrogations... but only to the technical leads on the project. This matter is too pressing to relegate to a game of ‘telephone’.”

“But we’re the only two leads..." Forty trailed off.

There was silence as terrible realization set in.

Then, Forty spoke again, “Aren’t there supporting staff that could talk to her?” 

“Kasvex’s scheme targeted officers, and we don’t know who is corrupt. Vera only trusts us and respect is very important to Kasvex – she thinks it a dishonor to use middlemen. It's the same philosophy which drove her, eh... hands on approach to executions within her organization.”

Forty clenched her hands. “I see.” She bowed her head, tempted to utter an immediate prayer. “How much respect will the human-woman-hating psychopath have for me ?” 

“I promise you she will have less respect for me.”

“Really?” Forty spoke up.

A little bit of Lixey’s humor shone through. “You’re taller.” It was clear from his gentle eyes that the humor wasn't callous.

She bit back. “And you’re Vera’s mate. It seems quite convenient that she didn’t choose you.” 

"You think I volunteered you?” Lixey said through a clenched muzzle, before withholding his frustration. 

“No, I think Vera doesn’t give two shits if I get my head bitten off – but you? She would never put her precious male on the line.” Her words sting with venom. “I-” She sighs with remorse, putting her face into her hands after a gentle whisper chastises her for her words. Do not revile against him. “Why doesn’t Vera do it?

“Who do you think has been talking to her for the past day? My mate and your personal guard – I promise you, they exhausted all other options.” 

“Xalara? Putting herself on the line for me?”

“She’s the one that will be with you the whole time – Vera will be watching. I promise that the prisoner won’t get near you. This is a maximum security facility for a reason.” 

Mary lowers her hand from her face, yet it seems like she isn’t listening too closely. Her sunken cheeks are pale. Her green eyes glow with active thought.

Lixey took two, hesitant, guilty steps toward the human. His ear-frills flattened against the back of his head. “I– I’m sorry, Mary... I tried to get her to send me instead.” 

“I get it.” Forty spoke at last. A slight smile of respect perked her once-despondent expression – it looked like she might even let out a chuckle. “Vera’s picking me because Kasvex doesn’t expect it – she’s calculating and cunning, but impulsive and unstable.”

Lixey nods. He isn’t any less distressed than he was a second ago, despite Forty’s amused, detached expression. “...seeing you walk in to interrogate her will certainly shed the scales right off her back...” there is no amusement in his voice.

“Forty –” Lixey’s eyes quivered and his tail fell limp behind him. He reached up to touch the cheek of the human, looking up at her from below. “You can say ‘no’.”

The tender touch of scales made her flinch. Mary looked down at his searching, empathetic eyes. "Can I?" she asked frankly.

Those reptilian slits – the kind of eyes which had looked down at her with contempt or, more rarely pity, now looked up at her with something more honest – something purer.

He was on the verge of tears.

She wanted to be frustrated with him, or at least be annoyed at the ease of his sincerity, but all she could do was look back. 

“Forty,”  a deeper voice from the open doorway interrupted the tender moment, making both of them jump.

Mary stepped back from Lixey’s touch.

“Are you ready?” Sergeant Xalara, Mary's towering guard, stood straight in her red armor plating. 

The gruff woman’s dull scales were concealed under a full-body suit of non mechanized armor, accentuating her physique beneath. There were spaces between the straps and elastic joints where the sheer bulk of her muscles pressed the plating apart.

Lixey's scaly claw lingered where Mary used to be a second longer, before he finally let it fall back to his side. 

“Do not forget your God, Dr. Penn.” Lixey narrowed his eyes, nodding resolutely as he now addressed her with her preferred name. “The gods have not forgotten you…”

Mary watched Lixey turn promptly to leave.

“Did you tell her?” Xalara looked down at him, the inquisitive gaze stopping his escape.

“I did…” He cleared his throat. “You must also know that I was simply trying to reassure Dr. Penn with a firm grip.” He angled himself between Mary and the sergeant, despite being shorter than them both. “There was nothing improper about my touch.”

Xalara shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

With one last glance, he passed by Xalara’s side and continued down the exiting hallway. 

As the little lizard man’s steps grew more distant, the bright-green daxy woman looked down to Mary, her scales cast in a more golden hue by the yellow light of the simulated sunrise.

Mary leaned against the window separating them from the sub-zero supercomputer control in the warehouse below, looking down at the ground, her arms folded.

Xalara’s unscarred muzzle parted at last. “Did I interrupt something? Shit, that male looked like he was about to sob all over your jumpsuit!” She made her voice as if to finish with a laugh, but she didn’t. 

The drone-colony switched out DNA-based storage-drives with quiet hums and clicks

Mary exhaled. “I’m not quite sure what that was.” She folded her arms. “But it wasn’t–”

Xalara stopped her with a grunt and a raise of her gloved, four-fingered hand. “Forty, I may not like you, but you’d never betray your male – whatever that was, that was all the Warden’s mate, not you.” 

Mary was silent again. Was that respect in the daxy’s eyes?

The Sergeant’s expression soon sours. “But… for your own fuckin’ good, if he touches you like that, you step away before anyone sees you . Got it? Vera’s mate is a man – all emotional and touchy-feely…” Xalara spoke firmly. “...but Vera sees that? You don’t want to sink this deal with your daughter.”

Mary’s eyes perked up at that.

“It’s a good fucking deal, Forty.” She spoke sharply but her eyes were empathetic. It was like this daxy guard was pleading her case.

“I know.” Mary said.

Silence again. Xalara sighed, as if letting go of a great burden.

Mary grabbed at the platinum wristband around her wrist – holding it tight. “So — are we doing this?” 

“The search perimeter is closing, Administrator.”

The golden Administrator was bathed in the light of the black-scaled commander’s image up on the holodisplay, her woman on the ground standing in a bustling camp among the charred remains of what was once a great human city among the Rocky Mountains of Utah. A skyscraper -- heaped in a useless pile of bent steel and concrete to be reclaimed by the elements -- was the distant backdrop to their conversation.

“We long suspected Zion’s continued presence in the region, but most of their underground facilities are retrofitted with the Empire's stealth plating that makes sensing much harder. Even ultrasonic detection or seismography have proven ineffective with out current equipment.”

Paxi pressed her maw together, terse. “You must respect their craftiness.” She stood beside the center of a long and empty conference table in her closed diplomatic chambers. One claw idly ran along the sharp edge of the gray alloy as she first eyed the copy of Huckleberry Finn on the long table, and then returned her gaze to the commander. “Humans are worthy prey and mates of the highest caliber.”

She know how obvious it was that she was thinking of him, but she didn’t care.

The nervous visage of Commander Visselax stiffened. “Indeed…” she agreed with some degree of hesitation. Her green Civil Guard uniform was decked with three medals over her right breast – commendations for brave acts of valor during the war.

Visselax was known to have a deep passion for the labor of Induction and protecting males. She had shot a member of her own team for claiming and severely injuring an underage male while the errant soldier also threatened the boy's father and mother -- an act for which she received great commendation. 

That was before prejudicial tactics were authorized under the leadership of Axla. 

Visselax seemed like the right choice – she seemed like someone her mate would’ve preferred to seek for him, if he was given such a choice. 

It was her fault for letting her love cloud her judgement.

“I must ask, Administrator.” Visselax stiffened as a team of civil guard officers and hunters passed by behind her on the holodisplay. “Has your attempt to draw your mate back to you by stratagem progressed? Has the Zion operative given you the transponder information?” The beginnings of discomfort reached her brow – the slight tension in her maw. 

It was not fear, but disdain.

The Administrator’s eyes narrowed, yet her voice remained soft – distant. “Colonel Axla is seeing to that matter as we speak. I do not expect it to be long before you have the information you need.”

“The Colonel must already know this, I am sure…” The Commander’s voice darkened. “But Zion operatives are trained to withhold information, Administrator, even under the most prejudicial of tactics.” She couldn’t hide the anger in her green eyes as she could in her voice. “Just injecting him will not–”

“You forget yourself, Commander.” The Administrator bit back, her voice low. "I trust her with the matter -- she knows what must be done.”

Visselax swallowed a lump in her throat – she wanted to say more, but did not. 

As long as the Commander restrained her insubordination, Visselax was free to possess any liberal ideals she wished.

“Ultimately, I will find him with or without that information. I would prefer for him to return for the sake of our son, but if not, I am happy to bring him in with the whole of Zion. When Counselor Voxas comes for her daughter’s mating Ceremony, I have requested drone swarms from the Empress to dig into the Earth itself, if we must.”

“They are willing to give us Core World technology, despite the presence of at least one rebellious faction? Self-replicating bots were restricted to worlds of peace by our ancestors in wisdom, Administrator. What if Zion takes that technology, like they’ve taken the rest?”

“I understand the concern.” The Administrator exhaled heavily. “Commander, they will be in the arms of our women before we even give them the chance.”

Visselx’s black-scaled maw pursed together. Her black quills fluttered inside their heat-retaining elastic hood.

“They resisted us for a year when we Inducted humanity. They will not last but one week this time.”

“Does this mean that Earth will be a core world?”

Paxi’s golden uniform hugged close to her muscled form. Adrian loved a muscular female – obviously, a need he never had met when he was with that weakling of a female.

Yet, Mary had her own uses…

Paxi nodded. “In a matter of weeks, the Counselor and her entourage – the forces of Axillis’ Imperial Right Hand will begin the process of finalizing humanity’s Induction. This Joining has made humanity more of a headlining species than he has ever been – even more than when Counselor Reesa defected to the side of the fanatics.”

“I met Reesa myself while assisting the medic crews at Phoenix.”

“She was always somewhat fanatical in the Faith of our mothers. Perhaps it is not surprising that she fell under the spell of a heathen religion.”

Visselax frowned, her eyes slightly narrowing at the edges. “Perhaps not–” 

A gold and black-framed visor, with sapphire glass panels, began to vibrate amidst the clutter of the conference table. 

“I apologize Commander, I must go. This might be High Command or Counselor Voxas.”

The Commander bowed a full ninety degrees, though she neglected to cross both arms over her chest. “I will keep you apprised.”

“Me as well.” Paxi bowed halfway to a forty-five degree angle, fists crossed over her chest.

With a beep, the picture of the Commander and the temporary Civil Guard base disappeared, leaving the slow, rotating form of the Earth beneath. The massive bright spots of Daxy megalopolises interrupted the inky darkness of much of the planet.

When Core World resources and technology were given to Earth, it would not be long before the whole planet was bathed in the light of Daxy progress – driving away every shadow. 

Paxi smiled, the end of the smile wavering as she heard the distant hum and whir of the machines breathing for her son just down the hall. 

She had ensured the door to Adrian’s lab and Sawyer’s new resting place always remained open, even when visitors came -- in case an alarm or beep somehow went unnoticed by the fifty doctor's and nurses on his team.

If Axla could not get the information Paxi needed from the Zion operative, or if she did and Adrian did not return after getting her message…

Three weeks. 

Could Sawyer survive three weeks?

The haunting question filled her with fear – true fear.

The first time she had felt it, she stood against a horde of male-murdering savages on her first Induction deployment as a mere teenager, forcing her to kill many with her bare claws.

That was to say nothing of the compromised assignment algorithm, that if Adrian’s false mate and her team could not fix, would put Earth’s status as a Core World in jeopardy.

With a sigh, Paxi picked up the vibrating AR visor, slipping it onto her face. 

The difficulty of fully securing humanity was evidence of the words of the Prophetesses – a species who produced male children at such a high proportion was not one Axillis would let go without proving her daughters.

Still, she was skeptical, as Axla used to be…

In its own way, the conversion of the Colonel was even more terrifying than her own loss.

Blue text flashed across the hud of her visor.

Conference Call Request - 4:43

Personnel: Administrator Paxi, UNKNOWN

Priority: N/A

WILLFULLY DECLINING A CALL OF THIS PRIORITY MAY BE GROUNDS FOR REPRIMAND

She waited to answer. “Computer, is this call coming from Earth?”

“Unknown, Administrator. ” Said the AI in the gentle, simulated voice of a human male -- she had changed the voice preset from an elder daxy woman to a human male. It was the same preset as used on Mars.

“Well, let’s assume it is…” Paxi’s eyes narrowed. Her claws tightened around the edge of the conference table. “Computer, track this call to its origin location. If it is classified, resort to triangulation.”

" Please remember that triangulation requires time on sensitive channels. Do not end your conversation prematurely. "

"I understand." After another vibration in her visor, Paxi flicked her eyes and answered the call.

The old text was replaced by new lines.

AR VISUAL REQUESTED BY PARTICIPANT: UNKNOWN

INTERNAL INFRARED TRACKING IS SUPPORTED BY THIS DEVICE…

PINGING NEARBY EQUIPMENT TO ESTABLISH VISUAL FEED…

LOCATION FOUND… EQUIPMENT FOUND…

Diplomatic Chambers; Administrator’s Quarters; Deck 20

With another flick of her eyes, she accepted the request with a raised brow. 

The image of a human male – roughly three feet shorter than her – appeared in the middle of her diplomatic chambers on the opposite side of the table.

“Shepard."

The image flickered as he straightened his white tie. 

He smiled wryly at her as her tail tensed behind her and her frills stood on end.

“As I told you and Axla long ago, you can call me Isaac.” There was a calmness in his voice, yet an intensity in his blue eyes.

The gold-clad Administrator straightened – the purple stripes down the arms of her skin-tight gold Admiralty uniform gave her a strange, brutal elegance. A silver band wrapped around her upper-arm.

“You are taking a big risk in contacting me directly, Isaac.”

“Perhaps.” Just as she remembered, his voice was full of serene mildness. There was almost always a smile on his middle-aged, fair face. He was wearing an all-white suit – clothes she had never seen him in. The whiteness oversaturated the cameras capturing his 3D form with slightly-unnatural digital light – like a male angel of ancient legend.

"I have been deeply troubled by the rumors I have heard about the coming Joining of Counselor Voxas' daughter this February." His gray hair was combed back. “I was pondering the contentions between our people today when the voice of the Lord came unto me.”

“The movements in Europe got your attention, I see.” There was an attempt to project satisfaction in her voice, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “The ceremony will be at Versailles' Hall of Mirrors -- in honor of your culture of course -- on February 1st. You are welcome to watch the broadcast.”

“I had heard rumors, but it is good to know definitively.” He nodded apprehensively. “I had prayed and fasted for days to understand what to do… I know that I have to speak to you – to warn you.” Even he sounded a little uneasy.

Tense silence followed his words as Paxi folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. The older male right before her didn’t exactly seem threatening. 

“Warn me – your enemy?”

“I have been commanded to love my enemies. I perceive that you design to destroy the liberty of the Lord’s people in its entirety. I say to you, Administrator, He shall not suffer this to be so.”

The Administrator’s muscles tensed, a claw tapping in perfect rhythm against her bicep. “Really? What is ‘liberty’? Slavery to women who do not love you? Blindness to the chains around you? You say that you are free, but just because you do not see your chains does not mean they are not there.”

“I’ve been married in the Lord for thirty years, Paxi–” his eyes burn with earnest conviction. His lack of guile would be frustrating if it wasn’t so disarming. “She would die for me – and I for her.” 

“That is your problem.” A contemptuous sneer distorted her features. “Your males delude yourself into thinking happiness is to be found in wearing men down until there is nothing left -- in the expenditure of the universe's most valuable asset on acquiring resources for your own unworthy mistresses.” Despite her tone being complimentary, disdain filled her eyes. “Do not worry, Isaac, I will find you a woman worthy of your companionship…”

Shepard didn’t frown, but his smile did disappear. “The pit that the wicked shall dig for their sisters, brethren, and neighbors – they shall fall therein. ‘I, the Lord, will avenge the righteous among all the souls upon the Earth, without discrimination, for their blood does cry up from the ground against you – even upon the red sands of a distant world do the daughters of the Earth cry up unto me, and this because of their bondage -- a bondage which is grievous to be borne.’”

Paxi clenched her teeth, and even opened her mouth to respond, but with a flash in his icy blue eyes, President Shepard put a foot forward. His metallic right hand clenched at his side.

He spoke with boldness as he looked up at her. “I have not yet delivered the message I came to speak to you. I have been commanded to speak against you – for your own sake, ‘For the axe now boasts itself against They who wield it’.”

“How dare you speak to me in this way, male!” Paxi’s heart burned in her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was anger or desperation. 

“I am not the one who speaks, but merely the vessel for Him who does.” Shepard stared up at her, unblinking as he spoke the words in his heart. “‘Nevertheless, I am merciful unto all the women on the Earth’, saith the Lord God of Hosts. ‘For many desire to do good; first to my sons, and even to my captive daughters upon the sands of a distant world, yet they do dwindle in unbelief.’” 

Paxi blinked. She saw the same light in his eyes that she had seen in Axla after she had awoken from her long slumber. “My people have no sympathy for the women who abused men for millennia!” 

“Hypocrite.” Shepard didn’t miss a beat. “Do you not suppose that if they love their husbands and sons -- the sons of a Father in Heaven -- that their hearts will not be softened to the captivity of their sisters, mothers, and daughters?”

Paxi growled. She would’ve ended this ridiculous affair if she was not trying to locate the origin of the call.

“‘Therefore, repent that you may be healed – lest I send forth the righteous among the wicked, to tear apart like a lion among the flocks, and there be none to deliver you. You have been spared for the sake of your little ones and your husband, and all their tender hearts – but if you will not repent, I will take my sons unto myself -- yea, even light itself shall forsake thee, and you will be left to yourself.’”

Paxi blinked rapidly. She thought of Sawyer's brush with death -- when he first collapsed. 

Paxi’s eyes glinted with desperation and frustration at the mention of her children. She wanted to be indignant, but her maw merely trembled with tender feelings.

Shepard carefully examined her expression. His boldness waned. “If you will no longer keep His daughters in captivity, and instead make peace as you were called to do in the beginning, this evil will not befall you or your people, but great will be the peace of thy children.”

“Y-you want me to reverse Relocation?” Paxi’s maw parted in disbelief. “Shepard, I cannot do that.” She snapped with a low growl. “Why are you being so bold in contacting me? Axla and I have not heard from you directly in nine years!”

“It is given unto you to choose, but beware, or that which thou hast done to others will be done unto you.” With a beep, he hung up – his pleading eyes staring into her eyes as he vanished.

She needed to ask the computer where the call was coming from, yet she didn’t – not yet.

Great will be the peace of thy children.

“Computer, from where did that call originate?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Unknown – the duration was long enough to perform a trace, but it was embedded within Empire transmissions on your private, receiving line to High Command. The source was simultaneous, from fifty separate loc–”

“Get me all of them! Send a transcript of this conversation to Axla. She will want to know.”

“Each of the addresses have been saved and may be sent at your leisure. Would you like me to send them to the Colonel as well?”

Paxi nodded, her reaction delayed. “Yes, send it to her.”

Great could be the peace of my children.

“...and to Commander Visselax.” her voice wavered at the insistent thought.

“ It is done.”

Maybe Shepard’s words were just manipulation, but it didn’t feel like it at the moment.

Behind the rumble of the engines and thrusters deep in the bowels of the ship, she listened to the sound of the whirring machines keeping her son alive in the other room, behind a closed door.

Cast in the light of the darkened Earth’s image, the Administrator shuddered and hunched over. Moisture glistened in her eyes, yet she wiped it away before it could form tears. 

“Call commander Axla. My patience is expended.” The patter of her boots drowned out the gentle noise of her son’s life support system in the other room as she marched toward the doors of the chamber. “ We must send communication to Adrian. ”

Chapter Text

Matthias shut his eyes. When the daxy standing over him squeezed at his shoulder, he would tighten, and then release the tension in his body. 

At least Asyx tried to make the massage more comforting. Her claws were a little bit larger than Maxine’s, and her scent was more herbal, with only a hint of sweetness underneath.

Her pheromones weren't fruity like Maxine’s, but having been captured for so long... he liked to pretend he was with her instead.

Peaches. Max smelled like peaches.

After all that they'd been through together, how could he forget?

The Huntress' scent had the same underlying muskiness to it – a subtle aromatic element that suggested it encouraged breeding behavior – but the Huntress’ smell wasn’t the same as his best friend’s. When exposed to Asyx, it made Maxine's scent harder to remember.

At least she was home safe. If he hadn't sent her home earlier in the mission with Dr. Penn's AI research, Zion might not be home anymore -- she never would've left him behind in Bryce Canyon.

She was there for him in his darkest moment, but now he would never be there for her again.

He looked up from his distorted reflection in the polished steel table -- his beard had grown from speckles of black to a distinct, dark brown covering. Distant steps of boots echoed down the hallway of the Flagship’s brig. 

Asyx didn’t look up. “When Axla does return, you must tell her what you know.” Asyx’s voice was calm, but urgent. “My love, you are not giving away Zion’s locations. Please – for your own sake, share the transponder information.”

"I can't." Matt kept his eyes closed. I’m sorry, Asyx,” he said as she squeezed at the pressure points at the base of the neck, his expression easing with a gentle sigh.

Initially, he had wanted to take satisfaction in denying her the comfort of holding him without resistance, but after the first seventy-two hours of plain white interrogation room walls and her seeming kindness, he decided to pick his battles for now. “You underestimate how determined I am to withhold anything that monster might want from me.”

Asyx was quiet in response. “Axla is a legend to us huntresses. Her saving of Earth after being called upon to work for the Fleet -- and then her catching of runaways -- simply because she believed in the Goddess’ work…”

“She caught many, but she didn’t save a thing – and when I knew her, she was as Godless as they come.” 

“I have heard of your world’s condition before we arrived,” she sighed. “Perhaps you think you could’ve solved all your problems yourselves?” 

Matthias was silent for a moment at that, rolling back and forth on his tight bottom with the huntresses’ squeezing motions. 

Her knowledge of the human body was astounding for only having come to Earth recently. No more than three weeks ago, she came through the World Bridge to help the search for Miles. 

“Maybe not, but… the kind of help she gave wasn’t the help we needed.”

“Perhaps. Before I met you – before I came to Earth – I believed Axla was a hero to all. She bears the very name, ‘Hero of Earth’ .”

Matthias sighed. “She was supposed to be.”

“Matthias – you suffered the worst excesses of the war. Those were abuses no worthy Huntress would ever tolerate, but it was not her who did those things to your sister and your mother.”

“If I let my men run amok as a terror tactic, the burden would rest on me!” Matthias recoiled from Asyx’s grasp at those words with low grunt. “The same is true for her and she knows that.”

“Burdens can be lifted, can they not?”

He thought of Jude – a vulnerable young man taken in by deceit. He thought of Matthew and Simon being pulled away. The sounds of his men’s panic replacing the measured voice of Huntress Axla after a failed negotiation.

Could that burden be lifted too?

The pain and the moral offense, it was all too great for any man or woman to bear.

Was it, though?

Matthias kept his hand in his face a while longer.

“Operative Carter.”

Matthias looked up from his palm to see a woman in gold, glittering robes, contrasted by the purple and black stripes adoring her neck and running down her arms to black, gloved fists.

This was it. 

“The Colonel talked to you?” He tried to remember everything about his pheromone training.

It’s possible that he was minutes away from being a sputtering, blubbering mess -- for the second time in his life.

Paxi did not respond. Every muscle in her body was tense – the one-ton bite muscles of her throat bulged the typically-loose neck-scales. She loomed forward at an aggressive angle and by the trembling in her brow, it was clear that she was aware of how aggressive and furious she looked. She failed to restrain it.

“Where is Colonel Braxys?” Her barely-maintained formality was full of fury. 

Asyx spoke before Matthias this time. “She reported to me an urgent communication from you.” She gripped Matthias’ shoulders again, leaning slightly over her seated male instinctively. The bottom of her breasts rested against the top of his head.

Despite the hate that he had for the Administrator, when she gazed down at him, he felt exposed. Matthias’ voice was low. “She told my mate that—”

“You will speak when spoken to. ” Every low, hateful syllable radiated with disdain.

Matthias felt the resolve and instinctive tension in the massive hands gripping his shoulder. 

Asyx would’ve pressed into him with her claws if they weren’t in a dark metal gauntlet. “ She told me that I would watch my mate for no more than half an hour, before her interrogation resumed. ” 

“Why has Colonel Braxys not injected him yet if he has not cooperated? Have you not given consent as his presumed mate?”

Matthias’ face hardened with a stoic expression. The color remained in his cheeks, but the dread in his chest spoke to him.

I can’t go through that again. 

Please, God.

“I am cooperating as much as I can!” Matthias nearly leapt from his seat, pulling his chains taut as he stood. He nearly stumbled over his own words at the memory of a needle piercing his wrist, then the all-encompassing warmth and the simulated interrogations. “D-do you know what you could do with those transponder codes? If you ever broke our encryptions, you could draw us out–”

The Administrator took a few determined steps forward, robe trailing slightly behind. “Unlink his bindings from the floor and please pick him up, Huntress Asyx.” Her shoulder-length quills stood on end.

Asyx blinked. Her grip on her mate tightened.

“If I must move him to my son's bedside, I will not be as gentle.” 

“There is no need to threaten us.” Asyx bit back at the implicit threat. “I respect the difficulty of your position, Administrator — I might be equally demanding if it were my boy — but Matthias Carter is my mate and we do not answer to you.”

“Huntress--” The Administrator's attempt at an amused smirk quickly reverted back into a furious frown. “I’m sure Chiefess Sallyx would listen to my recommendation to put ‘your mate’ with another if she heard that you were not cooperating with his interrogation as an essential intelligence asset. He hasn’t been released into your custody yet, afterall.”

“We will cooperate…” Asyx’s tail curled about Matthias' ankle, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “…but he is my martial claim.” Her chest rumbled with frustration – Huntresses didn’t answer to fleet authorities like Paxi -- at least not in matters not relevant to the safety of an Administrator's jurisdiction. "What do you intend to accomplish?"

“I am going to show him what he has done to my child by not helping me contact my mate. I suspect that he not only has transceiver codes, but that you know where he would flee.” The Administrator’s hands no longer folded behind her back, as they were liable to do, but clenched into fists at her sides. “He must see how a dying boy has been deprived of his father. ”

“Paxi.”

The three of them looked to the open doorway to see Colonel Braxys. Her objective gaze scanned over the room with a blink. 

Asyx’s grip on Matthias eased. Paxi’s tail even lowered closer to the ground.

The Colonel’s voice was quiet and calm. “Paxi – I spoke to the Data Annex about your recent call. They think they can reconstruct the address in three Solar weeks.”

They were all quiet for a moment.

Axla gestured to the scene, speaking with frankness. “What is the meaning of this, Administrator?” Despite the question, Matthias saw in the Colonel’s slit eyes an immediate understanding as she looked down at him — with a far less malicious expression than Paxi's.

Knowing more than she will admit, like always.

Paxi responded without looking back at her. “I want him to see Sawyer.” 

Her friend, the trusted Colonel, took a step forward. She stood right at the Administrator’s side to look her in the eyes – rising above her in stature as she stood in her armor and Paxi wore her robes. “We should discuss the message you sent me.” 

Matthias cocked his head. She looked apologetic, like during her conversation with him .  

No, not quite apologetic – concerned.

Truly, terribly concerned.

Axla continued. “What good would come from administering pheromones to Elder Carter? In all of my time as a Huntress, out of thirty Zion elders and sisters I have captured, only one Zion operative revealed information of any consequence – and he did so by persuasion.” Now her tone was remorseful. 

“I am trying that first, am I not ?” Paxi asked with a subdued snarl.

“If you think I’ll compromise my people like Jude, you’ve got another thing comi—” he was silenced by Asyx’s tail squeezing anxiously around his calf. 

"I expect you to compromise nothing!" Paxi cried to him, her fury redirected from Axla.

Now was the perfect time to jab him and get it over with, yet Axla was talking the Administrator down.

What was her angle?

Matthias found himself silently praying in his heart – yet he wasn’t sure what for.

Peaches… 

“Administrator, he will not give you what you want by force." Axla angled her body in front of Paxi's gaze, again drawing her attention to herself. "It was my theory that they are trained to withstand it like our male intelligence assets, because although they’d submit to their new mates, Zion operatives would never disclose information on their whereabouts.” Axla looked up, eyeing the hulking huntress. “Most Huntresses do not approve of injections, anyways, and we should respect the decision of his mate.”

“Most.” Paxi’s eyes narrowed. Matthias looked at Axla with the same critical gaze.

“Administrator, do not think my repentance to be hypocrisy. I was wrong.”

“Enough!” Paxi took hold of the collar of Axla’s suit, pulling her toward her, not with great force, but uncontested force. “You’ll inject your own mate, but you won’t inject this man to save my son?”

With masterful discipline, Axla didn’t resist or speak – she remained patient at the outburst. “Yes. Because it will do you no good. Trust me .” 

Paxi took a step back at the silence, releasing Axla nearly as quickly as she took hold of her. “What got a hold of you down there, Colonel?” She glanced at her own gloved claws in disbelief. “The Axla I knew would do it – for me!”

“I remembered what I had allowed myself to forget during the Induction War.” Axla stood straight. Neither she nor Paxi seemed to regard their audience, besides a sideways look from Axla to Matthias. “You want to show him your son? Then let us take him there – but to inject him if he still does not yield?” Axla was pleading, eyes trembling. “I have done it to many like him, and all I did was create suffering.” 

The words hardly register with Paxi. “Then we will use a double-dose. We do not have three weeks to wait, and we have no better options. This is not your decision.” Paxi’s maw twisted and her tail curled in on itself. The purple-striped, golden sleeves of her robe clenched up in her palm.

“A double-dose is to obtain essential information on existential threats! Aiding and abetting runaways -- even ones of great importance -- is not developing a functional AI!”

Matthias blinked, sitting just a little bit straighter. 

Axla continued. “You’ll recall that he was captured by a Huntress–” She nodded in the direction of Asyx. “I mustn’t remind you that our Order is entirely separate from Fleet authority.”

“You forget yourself — I was in command of the whole operation, even if you lead the Huntresses. I suppose we shall see who the Chiefess will side with.”

Axla furrowed her scarred brow at that. “Would you appeal our dispute all the way to the Imperial Council just to spite your friend and deny my expertise ? I have guarded you for a decade, I knelt before you as you bestowed Stewardship upon me — you do not trust me because you are desperate, but that is no excuse.” Axla shook her head in disappointment. “No. You forget yourself, Administrator.”

Paxi was silent at that. Her eyes dilated – widening and contracting in a kind of terrible confusion. 

“All you will do is make a male suffer. Haven’t they suffered enough already?”

Silence again. 

“You try my patience, dear friend.” Paxi relented at last. Her arms didn’t relax totally at her sides, but she managed to hold them there. “Huntress Asyx, please unshackle your mate. Axla, bring them up.”

Colonel Braxys nodded. “It will be done, Administrator.”

Paxi walked at a brisk pace, leaving with haste before Axla finished speaking. The sound of lift doors from down the brig’s secured hall left the three of them alone in the interrogation room at last.

“Come on, Sister — let’s take him to the Administrator’s chambers.” Axla’s voice was firm – absent of much emotion – though Matthias saw the conflict in her eyes. “I trust that he isn’t much of a danger?”

Matthias stood to his feet again, this time more slowly. “It’s alright – keep me cuffed. Don’t need you looking over your shoulder.”

“Unshackle him.” Axla insisted. “Carry him tightly in your arms, Huntress. Males were meant to be held in our arms, not in metal chains – we only do the latter by necessity.”

“Very well, Colonel.” 

Matthias cocked his head, trying to read Axla’s insistent expression. He could not.

“I apologize I couldn’t save you from this, Elder Carter, but it is fair to show you what a dying boy without his father looks like.” She added. “Then you can make an informed choice.”

Matthias nodded. The weight around his wrists and ankles came free as Asyx pressed a few buttons on the metallic table. The soldier in him wanted to fight his way out – to run, but the quieter, gentler voice told him to be patient, and that he had help.

“If she doesn’t inject me.” 

Axla growled low as Asyx took up Matthias into her arms, following close behind as Matthias’ binds became limbs of scale and muscle, rather than chains of metal.

She looked down at the ground as she shuffled along, her pained expression wavering with uncertainty and pain. There was no mask to her emotions. The patch of scarred scales beneath her right eye glistened with moisture. 

In bondage he might've been, but he was not the only one.

Perhaps had more help than he knew.

You are dreaming. 

“Miles .”

You sit up. You’re in a soft bed of snow, a rounded, plastic sled is beside you, at the base of a little hill. Trails of packed snow line the hill – yet there are no children playing.

You know this hill. You sense that there should be children here.

“How do you know that, son of men?” 

You look around, but the deep, smooth, and chiding voice in your head has no discernable source. 

“I’ve been here…” your response to the deep voice is automatic. "Who are you?"

In the distance, a neighborhood of nice homes lines the mountain. 

“You don't recognize me, son of men? I've come to disperse your... illusions about your situation.”

No. You remember that voice.

You remember the chill up your spine. The feeling of destruction. The clouds of dark mist, closing in...

“You can’t even work a couple of knobs and switches. Yet your heart tells you that you can escape the Empire? Foolish. Weak. Prideful!”

“Get away from me.” You rise shakily to your feet in the frozen wilderness, turning about to see the dark cloaked figure from your ketamine trip. 

His voice sounds like it’s coming from your left, but as you turn, it seems like it’s coming from the right. “You would like that, wouldn't you?”

“I thought I told you the first time. Get away!” He’s nowhere to be found. 

You feel chills down your spine, but you don’t actually feel the cold of this memory. It’s like he’s standing behind you. Your mind darkens. Your thoughts are confused.

The voice is full of terrible spite. “You should see where your dear father’s weakness got him – he’s abandoned two families now, and for what?” 

“Ah!” In your fearful turning about, you fall onto your face, your feet slipping out from under you. 

You stagger to your feet – none of the white snow sticks. In fact, everything is low resolution. On one side at the base of the hill, where your memory of this place breaks down, the evergreen forest seems to stretch on forever. “Everything you say is a lie!” 

He does not address your point. “ You fear your adversaries, but you do not even know the hearts of your closest allies. ”

“What are you saying?”

You look around – you’re now in a perfectly circular clearing in a forest of pine trees. Every inch of ground and every tree-branch closing you in is caked in a fresh coat of fluffy snow. 

“ I am saying that there are things that this ‘Healer’ would not have you know… and what right does he have to keep the truth from you? Your father—” The voice chokes, as if gagged.

You turn about again to see two figures in the snow. One is dressed in all white. The Healer in his all-white suit, brown beard, and neatly-combed hair stands opposite the black-robed figure. The Adversary is now out in the open, whether by force or by choice.

“ You. ” The man in black sneers at your heavenly friend. “ And you come here? What for? To keep the truth from him? ” He makes little attempt to hide his hatred. The darkness itself – an encroaching shadow emanating from the man's robes reflects into the white of the snow and the space about him, making it hard to even make out his figure. “I thought you served the God of truth, but I guess the ‘truth’ is that you sell a different lie .” When he extends his pale, white hand, it's adorned in golden rings.

“The truth has a timing, ordained by the Councils of Heaven, and obtained by means of agency. Otherwise, it would burden those who are not yet ready.”

Not ready? Your heart sinks.

His deep voice rumbles with an unseen smirk. “What will you do now ?” 

The Healer puts up a hand in your direction as you try to step closer, motioning you to stop. His voice is firm as he shifts to the right, lowering his hand, and standing between you and the man in black. “We will dismiss you without further argument.”

“By what authority ?” 

“By the authority of our Master — need I rebuke thee in His name again? ”

Silently, the man in black turns about and toward the darkened forest circling you. He takes one step and in a blink, he is gone.

You begin moving with hesitancy as only one interloper is left standing. “Thank you.” You step toward the Healer. “That’s the second time you’ve done that for me.”

The man in white skips the introductions. “When he realizes you won’t be bought or swayed with false promises, he’s going to be more scared of you than he is of me. His anger is an act -- to hide how little he truly feels.” 

“Really?” 

The Healer turns about, all the sternness gone as he faces you. "Yes." The gentle smile adorning his features wavers. “And how could I not help? You will already be burdened with a terrible weight that will not be easy to bear, son.”

“I ‘will’ be burdened? ” You step toward him a little faster. The snowfall has grown heavier in the space of seconds. It sticks to your white dress shoes -- unlike the snow in your crudely reconstructed memory. “With what? What do you mean?"

You look down. You’re wearing white like the Healer, but not entirely white. A white tie and polished white shoes adorn your body, in contrast with a dark blue suit coat and pants.. or was it black? Why weren’t you wearing the daxy mating robe like last time you saw the Healer? The closest thing to the robes was a more ancient, white girdle tied about your waist. It's a confused mix of clothing – incomplete .

The Healer clenches his hand by his side, gazing down into the soft sheets of white, before finally meeting your eyes through the terribly disorienting haze of snowfall. Through the blur, the platinum band around his finger remains visible in the white glow.

Every time you’ve seen him, he’s always been so confident, projecting an aura that lifts and assures the soul.

Yet now his eyes are fixed on you in a way that is terrifying. It pierces you to your core.

Was he sad? How could he be? He lived in a place of no pain, no anxiety…

“Miles. I…” he clenches his teeth. “I'm not authorized to say. Not now.” You step toward him as he tries to choke down his emotions. “ But you will know soon .”

At last, the Healer turns around and looks up into the white-out sky.

You’re leaping, your limbs moving by reflex.

“Miles – Miles! What the hell!”

You stumble down to all fours onto a hard surface, now face-down on the glossy tile floor of NEC’s Main Control room. The usual white daytime lights are dimmed, leaving you in the gentle glow of 660nm red light.

“Huh?” You flip around to lie on your back – consciousness has come suddenly. There was no transition from dream to wakefulness.

Rax stands over you, the massive reptilian woman dressed in her spare flight suit. It still had a dark mark by the collar, where fire had scorched it. Half of her iridescent muzzle glowed in the gentle blues from the wall of power controls, with the other half cast in red.

You remember running trials of the Needle’s Eye start-up sequence late into the night. You must’ve never gotten to bed.

“What happened?” you ask her, your voice low. 

She smiles hoping you’ll return the expression, but her orange, reptilian eyes tremble when they see your own expression

The smell of sweet citrus eases your nerves, but your spirit is still troubled.

“You woke up crying — jumped right out of my arms, baby.” Her eyes dart across your face. Her optimistic mate – she’d always taken solace in you. Yet now, there was no solace. Only dark, terrible truth. “Miles – what happened ?”

Talk to her , comes the insistent prompting. It’s no longer the gentle whisper it was before. Now it is more like a scream.

You have waited as long as you can. If you wait any longer to tell her, you will lose her. 

But you do not know what to say.

Speak.

So you do. You didn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense – but if you spoke, maybe the right words would come out. 

Have faith that she will help you.

Your voice trembles as you look up at her. “I… I think something really bad is going to happen.”

“Miles?”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks, but you don’t know why.

“I– I– I don’t know, Rax…” Your mind is racing. 

“Shh…” Rax settles with you on the floor, before pulling you up and into her lap. Your huddled, weeping form is cast in a red glow, with your left cheek dimly lit in the blue of the nearby power panel. 

“Everything’s going to be alright, my little a’kix.” Her typically rough voice is soft, even a little musical. She peaks in an eerily maternal tone. “If things aren’t okay, it just means they aren’t over yet.”

The elevating thrill of love is mixed with the terrible sting of pain.

It’s the pain of something that has not happened yet.

“Hope will make the difference.”

If anyone else had told you, you wouldn’t have believed them.

You can believe her.