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Unity

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty: Against A Wall

“Mmm... Mmnn. No..." Madrid murmurs.

Lifting her head, Miss Ayanda rubs the sleep from her ruby eyes. She'd passed out in a chair placed beside her captain's hospital bed, having decided to wait for him to awaken from his anesthesia induced slumber. Though the doctor warned her that it might take many hours, she declined to receive a call instead; ever the loyal soldier, Miss Ayanda refused to abandon her post.

“Nn, no... Don't." He mumbles.

Cocking her head, Miss Ayanda watches curiously as Madrid struggles in his sleep. Is he running from someone? Is he in a fight? Whatever he's dreaming about it's clearly bothering him. She reaches out to touch his arm, hoping to gently ease him from the dream world. However, his head jerks and his eyes open, his breathing hastened by his terror. Sweat beads on the human's pale forehead, his hair mildly dampened. He closes his blue-green eyes tightly. Feeling his skin with her clawed hand, her three, thick fingers coil around his forearm. Opening his eyes, Madrid turns them toward the person grabbing him so tenderly.

“Hey there. Welcome back to the land of the living." Miss Ayanda says softly, her lips curling into a pleasant grin.

“Hi." He replies in a near whisper. “Fancy seeing you here."

“Where you expecting someone else?"

“A Voeldahn with thick, brown fur and a big, bushy tail, or a purple and gold Kanorakus."

“They clearly aren't stupid enough to waste their time." Miss Ayanda swiftly retorts.

“Harsh, but I guess I deserved that... Thanks for being here, and for waiting however long you were waiting."

“It was only... Fourteen hours." Miss Ayanda says, after checking the chronograph on her V.I. bracelet.

“That's dedication." He chuckles.

“I've had worse assignments."

“I'm glad you're here."

Looking each other in the eyes, Miss Ayanda and Madrid share a moment, however brief.

“How are you feeling, Madrid?"

“Physically? Like shit. Mentally? Like shit." He smirks.

“Well, you look like shit, so that makes sense." She quips.

“Now I'm really glad you came." He sighs.

“Me too!"

“I get it now." He suddenly says, his tone drastically changing.

“Get what?"

“Why you'd try and follow through with this mission so quickly... The first thing I did when I read my real mission statement, after throwing up, was to pick apart everything I had on Unity to see if I could find something they missed. When I didn't find anything, I gave in and decided to just... Protect everyone. My back was against a wall; it was the only choice I had. You? You took the ball and ran with it. I could never fully understand it until now... I'm tired, Miss Ayanda. I'm only thirty years old; with modern medicine I'll likely live to be one hundred and eighty, and I'm already so tired. Ten years of conflict as a Sol Marine was all I had the strength for, I just didn't realize it. A chance to live in peace? Real peace? Even if it's short term, it's really tempting."

Pitying the young human, the pine green and red striped Kanorakus rests her hand gently upon his head, softly petting him.

“It's days like yesterday when I sometimes wish that George and May Woods never took the Azilian out of Sol, or at least not to Alpha Centauri." He continues.

Miss Ayanda freezes solid, her hand held just above his head. Her chest stings at his words. Turning to look at her, he sees the expression on her face, immediately realizing his offense. He opens his mouth to speak, taking a breath.

“If they never explored as they did, we wouldn't be here, and my race would most likely be wiped from the face of Kanor..." She sternly remarks.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

“How did you mean it, then?" She asks demandingly.

“I'm glad they found Kanor and stopped the civil war. I'm glad they saved your people and that I had the chance to get to know someone as great as you. I came to appreciate the Kanorakus years ago, and I have nothing but respect for your race. I just meant that some of the things they brought back I could've lived without. The Dezonian's medicine, for instance..." He explains.

“Oh..."

“Their booster shots? That thing is mandatory now... When the Azilian brought back the Irakus and Dezonian ship, I was a teenager. My parents made me get that booster, before we really knew what it did. My lifespan was more than doubled. Sometimes, I think that that seventy or eighty years is enough. How the hell will I handle nearly two hundred? Especially if it's always like this... That's all I meant." He continues.

Miss Ayanda continues to stroke his head, her irate glare softening. She leans closer, surprising Madrid with a tender kiss near his forehead. Extending his hand, he strokes her cheek.

“I'm only thirty-five, but I sometimes feel like I'm one hundred and thirty-five. I was given that shot too, as all Kanorakus were. I sometimes regret it as well... I'm sure I'll regret it even more in one hundred plus years. We just need to have hope, that things will become better. It isn't always like this, Madrid."

“Hope..." He sighs. “Yeah... There's always that."

Resting her head against his, Miss Ayanda closes her eyes. She sighs as his fingertips caress her jawline; her lips curl into a little grin around her raptor-like snout. Slowly pulling away, Madrid looks toward her, a faint smile on his face.

“Well, it's about that time." Miss Ayanda says as she rises to her feet.

“Already?! And it was just getting good."

“Yeah. We're getting too close, and you're not well enough for me to molest yet." Miss Ayanda winks.

“Says who?!" Madrid smirks.

“Says the doctors."

“You asked them that?" He chuckles.

“It's an important piece of information!" She smirks. “Besides, you're a downer. I'd rather not leave utterly depressed." She jests.

“How sweet of you to say." He quips. “Wait! Didn't you want to hassle me about orders or lecture me about the past two days before you go?"

“No. You just focus on recovery. I'll see to it that you're not disturbed with work; Unity's orbit has been stabilized for the new few days anyway, so there isn't much for you to be concerned with."

“Thanks."

The pair share a gaze and Miss Ayanda gives him an affirming head-nod before turning and walking out of his room. Now alone, Madrid lifts his wrist, looking for his V.I. bracelet. It's missing, however, confiscated by the hospital staff so that he isn't distracted by work or personal matters. Lying back and staring at the ceiling, he finally groans from the pain of his wounds, something he prevented himself from doing in front of Miss Ayanda. He isn't entirely sure why, but he simply didn't want her to see him in pain or showing weakness of any kind. He didn't want her to think any less of him.

Hearing only the thudding of her boots echoing throughout the halls, Miss Ayanda makes her way to the front door of Unity's hospital. Her thoughts race around in her head, breezing by one before passing another and then returning full-circle. Will Madrid be alright? How are the crew of Unity fairing with the truth? Will the refugees cooperate and assimilate now? Will they be able to go through with Unity's true mission? Will Madrid be alright? Traversing the final corridor, Miss Ayanda stops when she sees a familiar face. Standing at a counter, Roku has returned to the hospital, once again personally overseeing a delivery of medicines.

Beside her, a male Voeldahn doctor speaks, and though his face is warm and his tone polite, Roku grows increasingly frustrated. A concerned Miss Ayanda continues her walk, approaching the desk.

“Are you sure you don't want to come?" He asks.

“I'm sorry, but I have to pass."

“Aww, come on. It'll be fun!" He persists.

“Look!" Roku sighs. “I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not."

“Why not?" The rejected doctor looks a little hurt.

“Dates don't work without good chemistry, and I don't feel like there is any."

“There is on my end." He smirks.

“You have too much fur for me..." An irate Roku bluntly replies.

“... You mean?" He pauses.

“I'm really only attracted to humans." She confirms.

The doctor is floored. He stands frozen, his mouth agape.

“It's nothing personal. I'll send your third order through right away. One of my people will deliver it."

“Still have that silly fetish, I see!" Miss Ayanda jovially interjects.

“Miss Ayanda! Hi! ... And it's not a 'silly fetish'. I just really, really like humans." Roku innocently replies.

“What makes humans so special?" Miss Ayanda cocks her head.

“They're soft skin and cute, stubby faces... How easily claws leave marks... How they glisten when they're all sweaty..." Roku seems to fall into a lustful daze.

“Settle down, now. Don't keel over in the middle of the hospital." Miss Ayanda laughs.

The defeated doctor, who stood so silently to listen in, quietly slithers away in the background, leaving the two women to talk.

“Sorry." Roku murmurs, shying away.

“While all of those things are true, you'd certainly have a lot more men if you weren't so selective." Miss Ayanda remarks.

“Preferences aren't a crime, and standards are good to have. Besides, I don't want 'men', I want 'a man'. I'd rather not have a list like some cheap slut. I'm not that kind of girl." Roku retorts.

“Fair enough. More for me." Miss Ayanda smirks.

“How are things looking?" Roku asks.

“You mean overall? I haven't walked the streets lately, but my people tell me that the fighting's died down quite a bit."

“I've noticed that. It's almost... Peaceful." Roku says with a little smile.

“Let's hope it stays that way." Miss Ayanda murmurs. “Come on. I'll walk you back to your office. Keep those awful non-humans from hitting on you."

“Gee, thanks!" Roku exaggeratedly exclaims.

Entering the main hall of the security offices after escorting Roku to her own, Miss Ayanda finds her Lieutenants standing around the central table.

“Finally!" Stefan exclaims.

“We've been wondering when you'd return." Drayusa comments.

“Look at all of you, gathered around like frightened children. Did you miss your mother?" Miss Ayanda teases.

“This is serious." Fizona retorts.

“Is it?"

“The reports are coming in from my front-line Sergeants." Kellan begins.

“And? I'd be surprised if they weren't positive. I've just walked the streets and you can't even tell there was a riot." Miss Ayanda remarks.

“Well... The reports are positive. There's been a steep drop-off in calls for service." Kellan continues.

“We're worried that it's only a lull in the growing storm." Sihl'Ahzen interjects.

Miss Ayanda sighs and closes her eyes. Resting a hand over her brow, she massages her temples with a finger and thumb, her snout jutting beneath the blade of her hand as she leans against the table with the palm of the other. Her tapering tail sways gracefully behind her. Miss Ayanda's long, eight-inch bristles grow increasingly rigid, rising up like curved needles along her spine.

“Don't you ever stop?" She calmly asks, through clenched teeth.

“... Miss Ayanda?" Fizona softly calls out to her.

“You're always assuming the worst; always preparing for a life-ending conflict. It's like you live in a perpetual state of war." Miss Ayanda growls at Sihl'Ahzen.

“I react based on my training and experience." Sihl'Ahzen calmly retorts.

“It's been half a day since our captain published the report; everyone must know where we stand by now. Don't you think that we can finally relax? Can't you just, for once, accept that maybe they aren't so stupid?"

“No." Sihl'Ahzen shakes her head.

Miss Ayanda glares at the dainty little Irakus, her ruby eyes narrowed with anger. Kellan, the pale-skinned and red-headed human, sees the tension growing between Miss Ayanda and his own lover. Stepping closer, Sihl'Ahzen turns her head toward him, her brow softening and her fiery eyes warm as he stands just behind the fragile looking alien woman. Resting his hands on her slender shoulders, he gently massages her, his fingers easing into the fluffy red mass that rings her collarbone. Leaning back and into his chest, she lifts a wing-like arm, resting her long, slender, fuzz covered fingers over his; they curl around his hands, losing their featherlike appearance as they bend at the knuckle.

“Just hear us out, Miss Ayanda..." He speaks softly. “I think it would be better to err on the side of caution, than to just assume that they'll realize their backs are against a wall and be okay with it."

“I couldn't have said it better." Sihl'Ahzen coos, looking up at her lover.

“That being said, it might be extreme to militarize; we don't want to look like we're preparing for battle, or the refugees and the crew might start to wonder why." Kellan continues.

“Right." August steps forward. “That might look like we're preparing to drop another bombshell on them; it'll put them on edge."

“Hm... Perhaps there's something else we could do?" Miss Ayanda thinks aloud.

Leaving the table, she suddenly approaches the corner terminal. Taking a seat at the chair, she activates the device while her subordinates follow behind. Her clawed fingers press the keys as she prepares a report, first selecting the level of clearance required to view it. Miss Ayanda chooses “Clearance Level Six", effectively making the report public, to the surprise of her Lieutenants.

“What're you doing?" Fizona asks.

“I'm drafting a summary of the police stats that Kellan received, complete with references." Miss Ayanda coolly replies.

“... Why?" Stefan raises a brow.

“I see! Very clever!" Sihl'Ahzen chirps.

“See what?" Kellan asks her.

“Transparency." Miss Ayanda begins before Sihl'Ahzen can speak. “I'm showing transparency. Hopefully, knowing everything that's going on will begin building trust amongst the crew and refugees, especially after all that's happened."

“What about the Council? ... Correct me if I'm wrong, but those files are originally Clearance Level Three; don't we need approval to declassify information like that?" August asks.

“Fuck the Council." Miss Ayanda says with a little smile, her fingers typing away.

The Lieutenants glance between each other, their pleased looks revealing their feelings. None of them challenge Miss Ayanda's impromptu decision. Lifting his wrist, August begins drafting a brief text message on his V.I. bracelet. With the press of a button, he sends the message, standing silently in the background with the other Lieutenants. Chirp, chirp, chirp, the V.I. bracelet exclaims. With a sigh, the wearer ignores the beeping, his hands resting upon the broad hips of his partner.

“Not too rough, baby." Draiman reminds her.

“Sorry, my love." Corova coos.

Rocking her hips as she straddles his pelvis, the black and purple swirled flesh of the Kanorakus' body glistens from her sweat. Her long and tapering tail swishes gleefully through the air. The long, charcoal black and gold tipped bristles that cover her head and run along her spine and tail are as soft as fur as she pleasures herself and her lover, the bedframe shifting with each sway of her hips.

“Nngf. Having fun up there?"

“Mmm... Hff, I actually quite enjoy this." Corova coos.

“Nng-yeah, I bet." Draiman smirks.

Pulling her closer, her ample breasts press against his chest and the pair share a passionate kiss. The couple often mate in variously kinky ways, with Draiman typically dominating the larger Kanorakus. However, with his injury, and with their eternal, psychic link, Corova treats him more gently; she's found their more romantic and tender moments to be as enjoyable, if not more so, than when he cuffs her wrists to the bedframe. After several minutes of entertaining each other, the lover's passion comes to a swift and proper end. Slowly sliding off of her partner, Corova lay beside him, her human husband held tightly in her arms as she nuzzles his face.

“I love you, babe." Draiman speaks telepathically.

“... How much?"

“I'd peel off the skin of everyone on board for you." He swiftly and proudly proclaims.

“Good! I love you that much too. Maybe even more!"

“Maybe?" He raises a brow.

“On your good days." She winks.

Sharing a laugh and a kiss, he lifts his wrist. Corova presses the button on his bracelet for him, as his other arm is beneath her neck. The pair read August's message. Already a few minutes old, their pleased expressions fade as they see the information contained within. As if on cue, the terminal in their apartment silently lights up; a message has just been received. This is the blanket report that Miss Ayanda sent, which August was warning him about.

“Maybe we should've taken a nap instead?" Corova thinks inside of Draiman's head.

“What?!" He turns to look at her. “Hell no. This was perfect!" He replies in her mind, before giving her a tender kiss.

Lying there for a moment, they bask in their shared affection, enjoying the embrace of the other. After a few minutes, Draiman's bracelet once again chirps. Corova's clawed finger presses the button, accepting the audio-only call.

“Hello, Friden."

“Hey, Draiman. Did you read that report?!"

“No, but obviously you did." Draiman sighs.

“Why not?! What's more important."

“A lot..." Draiman grumbles.

“Hey, Friden!" Corova chirps.

“Oh... I interrupted again, didn't I? Sorry boss, I, er... Well, read the report. We were hoping you'd call a meeting." Friden explains.

“Alright... Get everyone you can and we'll meet at the warehouse in thirty."

“Right away!" Friden chirps.

Glancing toward each other, the couple know that they need to prepare. As the de facto leader of the freed slaves, a position granted to him by the others for his commanding presence, quick wit and uncanny foreknowledge, he must quell their fears and maintain the peace. It's a job he would've taken, even if August and Miss Ayanda hadn't asked him to. Corova, as his legal and spiritual mate, a wife in every sense of the word, acts as his second. She's become the benchmark of ideal femininity, and her behavior with Draiman is the new pattern that many of the naïve, freed slave girls seek to emulate. With so much power over such a large group aboard Unity, the couple wield a big stick, yet they walk softly.

Many might wonder why the pair don't seek more power for themselves; why would they be so ardent in their quest for peace? Climbing out of bed, Corova sits at the edge, stretching her muscles and arching her back. Draiman impulsively fondles one of her large breasts, causing her to turn her head toward him and grin lustfully. Rising to her clawed feet, they thud softly on the dense carpeting of their bedroom. Draiman groans quietly as he rests a hand over his faint scar, feeling the soreness as his body still heals. He looks toward Corova, watching her carefully pull up her panties.

“Where are you going?" He asks.

“With you." She swiftly replies.

“Shouldn't you stay here? Rest, or something?"

“I'm pregnant, not ill." She smirks.

“I'm just concerned."

“Normally, that doesn't happen until my belly swells and I start occupying the bathroom more than the bedroom and kitchen." She teases.

“By then, I'll be panicking, but for now, I'm concerned."

Pulling up and buckling her pants, she grins as she looks over the human. Approaching her lover, she throws her arms around her husband, wrapping them around the nude man. Nuzzling his face, she gives him a kiss, her tail swishing happily from side to side.

“I'm staying by your side. Now get your adorable ass up and put on some clothes." She speaks softly into his ear.

“Yes, dear." He quips.

Making their way through the narrow streets of Unity, they take a cargo lift to the third tier, wholly unused, except for storage. To prepare for the decades they were supposed to be “lost" in space, breeding an army for the Dezonians, tiers three, four, five, six, seven and eight are packed with all sorts of consumer goods, medicines, weapons, clothes, and useful equipment and spare parts. Empty apartment buildings house crates of unopened and dismantled furniture, and thousands of decorative artworks and light fixtures. Tier Three, specifically, houses mostly biodegradable crates of medicines.

The couple quickly find a warehouse near the rear of Unity's residential sphere, close to the central stalk that holds the structure to the rest of the ship and houses the tram systems. This warehouse was partially cleared of supplies by Roku and her people, a fact swiftly discovered by the exploring refugees. Using it as a private headquarters, the freed slaves turn to their leaders, the human male and his Kanorakus wife. Friden, a feline Voeldahn with shaggy, light-brown fur, wades through the group. Behind him are two others. Machado, a black and brown furred canine male, and Moody, a tanned human.

All three of these men hold some sway, but nothing compared to Draiman. The oriental human, who's genealogy is a closely guarded secret, steps toward his frightened looking cohorts. With eyes closed, he slowly cranes his neck, audibly cracking it. Nearly within arms-reach of Draiman, Corova steps forward, glaring at the three. They stop and look up at the Kanorakus, who towers over all of them; her stare is fair warning to keep their distance from her husband. She's visibly protective of him, though he's even worse; bordering downright possessiveness, Corova enjoys the way he guards her like property, and he's only become more vigilant since her womb began growing their first child.

“D-did you read the report?" A nervous Friden asks.

“We did." Draiman says with a little sigh. “And?"

“And?!" Machado gasps.

“And what're we going to do about it?!" Moody demands.

Draiman slowly glances at the three, his face expressionless and eyes blank. His gaze lands on Moody, staying there for some time and unnerving the human.

“We're not going to do anything." Draiman finally replies.

“... Why not?!" Friden asks in shock.

“There must be something we can do." Machado remarks.

“We can't just accept this lying down, damnit!" Moody exclaims.

Dozens of voices among the easily six hundred freed slaves begin to chime, backing the trio's play. Draiman is quick to act, raising his hands high above his head in silent protest of their fears.

“People! People! Calm down!"

“Calm down? Do you want to be stuck here?!" Friden growls.

“We should try and take the bridge again!" Moody exclaims.

A dumbfounded and frustrated Draiman sighs, resting his face in one palm.

“Do you really think something that stupid would even work? It didn't the first time. We've established this." He calmly explains.

“But if we had more weapons we could-"

“Shut up." Draiman snaps.

“What?" Moody looks perplexed.

“That's a waste of time and a waste of life; it's pointless. We can't even control the bridge without a Dezonian. Did you not read the report captain Basile published, or do you just not believe it?"

“Why would they do something like that? Why would they agree to work on Unity with it designed like that?" Moody poses.

Several others nod and exclaim in agreement.

“Because the Dezonians are devious and the Solar Council tricked everyone. Don't be ignorant..."

“I just can't believe that!" Moody yells.

“Neither can I." Machado agrees.

“Your belief isn't necessary. I'm not going to risk people's lives for some bullshit mission that won't do any good to begin with. Is this what you all called a meeting for? To whip people up into a brain-dead frenzy?! Stop and think about this for a minute!" Draiman speaks loudly to the crowd.

“I'm done listening to you. All you do is tell us to calm down and stop resisting! What kind of bitch are you?!" Moody shoves Draiman's shoulder.

“Don't touch him!" Corova snarls, grabbing Moody's forearm.

“Back off, bitch!" Moody yanks his arm away, holding up a hand as if to backhand Corova.

Draiman is swift to react in defense of his wife. Though larger and more imposing, with natural claws and her bristle-lined tail, he comes to her rescue as if she were made of glass. With a powerful left-hook, he catches Moody off guard, punching him in the face and knocking him to the ground.

“Don't ever raise a hand to my wife!" Draiman growls, swiftly drawing his blaster on the felled man.

“I love you." Corova coos, resting a hand on Draiman's shoulder.

“I love you too, babe."

Several step toward the prostrate human, who groans in pain and spits up a small quantity of blood. Draiman aims at them, causing them to stand down or risk being shot.

“Do you people want to die?! I really think you do, because you just can get it through your heads... Think, people! This ship and project were developed by the Dezonians! Those fucking bugs can and have thought of everything. We're not going to be here forever, so why don't we just play along while we can?"

“Because... I'm afraid." Friden shamefully admits.

“Who isn't?" Draiman asks, holstering his blaster. “But succumbing to blind fear? That's what dumb animals do. That's what gets them caught by the hunter... I don't want you to die for nothing, and I sure as shit am not dying for anyone else but her." He continues, taking Corova by the hand. “We've got a good thing going here, for the most part. Let's not fuck it up with feeble and desperate attempts. We'll see Sol soon enough."

Moody rolls over, wiping the blood from his lip. He pauses as Draiman holds out a hand to him, silently offering to help him up from the ground. Looking at Draiman's hand, he hesitates for a moment before reaching out and taking it. With a startlingly strong pull, he draws the muscular human to his feet.

“Don't kick up dust if you're going to choke on it too."

Moody looks Draiman over, his mouth agape as if he wishes to speak. However, after a pause, he merely nods in response. After calming the crowd, Draiman speaks for the next hour. He convinces them that the reports are genuine and that the original crew are in the same position as themselves; continued rebellion will only make their situation worse and ruin their chances of ever having a stable life aboard Unity, or seeing Sol again. Many would like to have a peaceful and meaningful life, though they didn't plan to spend it aboard the ship. The hope that in several years they'll have the option to leave is what keeps them going.

With his people once again under control, and the rabble rousers dealt with, Draiman and Corova leave the warehouse and return to their apartment for the night, which is evidenced by the changing images in the artificial sky many stories above them. Looking up at the glass ceiling, Corova sighs.

“Sometimes, I do miss seeing the stars with my own eyes." Corova speaks telepathically to her husband.

“I know. I do too."

“I'd like to raise our children where they can see the stars."

“Children?" Draiman turns his eyes toward her.

“You didn't think we'd stop at just one or two, did you?" She coos, resting a hand over her toned belly.

Draiman grins, slipping an arm around his wife and holding her close. As they walk away from the cargo lift, they pass by the bow of the ship, where the bridge and many of the offices are located. Inside the security offices, August proofreads a report in his office. He's one of the last still inside. Kellan and Sihl'Ahzen left early to spend “quality time" together, as they call it. Drayusa and Stefan finished their work before leaving together for a late dinner at one of the myriad restaurants in the Commerce Pods. Only himself, Fizona and Miss Ayanda remain in the offices.

With his report free of typographical errors and properly punctuated, he publishes the document at Clearance Level Six, as per Miss Ayanda's recommendation. Unable to legally order them to disobey directives, all of her suggestions are simply that. However, she has the full support of her Lieutenants; they follow her lead. Cracking his knuckles, August slumps back in his chair for a moment before turning off his terminal and rising to his feet. His boots thump on the ground as he exits his office, pausing to overhear Miss Ayanda speaking to someone.

“The Council would not have authorized that." A female voice grumbles in frustration.

“Then it's a good thing I didn't ask you to." Miss Ayanda cheerfully retorts.

“Your insubordination will be noted... Rest assured, the captain will hear of this." The woman sternly warns.

“Oh, good! I do so enjoy my meetings with the captain. Goodbye!" Miss Ayanda replies.

August can hear her pressing a button and ending a call. Her chair shifts and croaks as she moves about, her heavy footfalls soon approaching her opened door. Stepping out of her office, she looks toward August, flashing a pleasant smile. It's clear to him that she quite enjoyed her disobedience. Without saying a word, Miss Ayanda leaves the main hall of the security offices, heading elsewhere. Is she paying someone a visit, or merely heading home? Glancing at his V.I. bracelet and checking the chronograph, August is reminded to collect Draz from the Skahlzunian preserve before heading home.

He heads for the door, only to pause when he sees Fizona out of the corner of his eye. Sitting in her office, she looks over a screen. Her focus is visible even from a distance. She appears to be carefully studying something. Curious, and still bearing some guilt for impregnating the vibrant Kanorakus, he approaches her office. He gently raps his knuckles against the doorframe of her opened office, gaining her attention.

“Hello, August. Did you need something?" She asks quite casually.

Stepping inside, August takes a seat in the chair before her desk.

“No."

“Oh... Then why are you here?" She raises a brow.

“Working late?"

“Hm? Oh! This isn't work related." Fizona replies, her focus returning to her screen.

“What is it, if you don't mind my asking?"

“Names for my baby." She chirps.

August feels a sting in his chest. Looking toward Fizona, the orange Kanorakus with bronze bristles and vivid, red and yellow stripes, she appears content. Her lips are curled into a little smile as she looks over her list. Thinking back, August is certain that Fizona truly tried to integrate and become like the Solakus and Irakus; her attempts to learn his culture and share it with him were sincere. He wonders exactly where she stumbled? Which custom was too hard for her to accept? Was it a particular food? Was it a social more? Or maybe it was him and how he acted? Would a faster acceptance of her efforts have earned him her heart?

With a little sigh, he feels a small inkling of regret wash over him, made worse by a child that he fathered, but won't ever raise. His eyes scan Fizona, who shows no regret, no anger, no resentment, and no love for him. She seems to have what she wants.

“I'm narrowing it down, and I think I'll use 'Vrida' if it's a female, and 'Zeran' if it's a male. Do you like those names?" She turns to him.

Inside, his heart skips a beat, overjoyed that she would ever ask for his opinion after all she'd said to him earlier. His lips curl into a little smile, and he silently nods.

“They're very nice names." He speaks softly.

“I like them too!" She chirps.

“Vrida and Zeran don't sound very Kanorakus though, Fizona."

“True, but my baby won't be Kanorakus; he or she will be a half-breed, and half-breeds are very special; they should have special names." She retorts.

Her smile ever present, she saves the two names on her computer and deactivates the terminal. August rises from the chair, looking down at Fizona who turns her orange eyes up, gazing at him as she sits at her desk.

“They should, and you've picked good ones... You'll be a great mom." He remarks.

“Thank you, August."

“Goodnight, Fizona. I'll see you tomorrow."

“Goodnight, August."

Leaving her office, August heads for the door as quickly as he can, but without sounding as though he's fleeing. Once inside the hall, he takes a moment to breathe, calming his nerves. Chirp, chirp, chirp. He jumps as his V.I. bracelet warns him of an incoming call. Swiftly pressing a button, he brings his wrist toward his face.

“Yes?"

“Hi, August! Doctor Taylor, here. You're test results are in. You're in the clear!"

“Great! Thanks!" August chirps.

“Try not to bathe in blood anymore." Doc Taylor chuckles.

Ending the call with his doctor, August walks down the large corridor. He listens to his boots thumping against the metal plates as he heads for the streets of Unity's city, his mind racing. With his spirit lifted, he decides to place another call. Lifting his wrist, he presses a few buttons, waiting for her to answer.

“Hi, August!" Annette chirps.

“Hey, babe. I just heard from Doc Taylor and I'm clean; didn't pick up anything from the bridge incident."

“Great! Finally! I've really missed you." She coos.

“It's only been a day." He laughs.

“So?" She cutely pouts.

“Yeah... I've missed you too."

“When can I see you again?"

“How about right now?" He poses.

“Really?! ... Are you sure?" She asks.

“Yeah, why? You better not have company over there." He teases.

“Look who's talking mister rare-male-commodity." She snickers. “I was just asking because I know you leave that cute little Draz in the preserve."

“Yeah, well, I could always just pick up Draz afterward." He replies.

“Heh. If you still have the strength to walk." Annette laughs sinisterly.

“That's the spirit, babe. I'll see you soon."

Adjusting his course, August now heads directly for his girlfriend's apartment. He could use some relief and relaxation after all they've gone through these past several days.