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Unity

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty-Five: Unforeseen Consequences

Entering the main hall of the secretarial offices, Sashuna walks beside her associate, Abigail. Eye-to-eye, the purple and gold Kanorakus turns toward the horse Voeldahn. She opens her mouth, readying to speak and continue the conversation that they'd had only moments earlier, only to pause when Delilah approaches them.

“Hi, Abi!" The squirrel woman chirps, waving politely.

“Hey, boss-lady." Abi quips.

“Good day." Sashuna respectfully bows her head.

“I need you to do something for me, Sashuna."

“Oh?!" Sashuna's brow raises in surprise.

“We were supposed to get a new manager in yesterday, some guy named 'Halen', but he never showed up. I figured maybe there was some miscommunication, but he isn't answering any calls and hasn't arrived today either." Delilah continues.

“... And you want me to do what?" Sashuna asks after a pause.

“Go to his place and check on him! Pfft. What else!"

Sashuna contains the urge to roll her golden eyes, as she's once again forced to suffer the passive-aggressive abuse of her boss. She doesn't know how, when or by whom, as she's certain that Madrid didn't do it himself, but Delilah seems to know that she's had a brief but intimate relationship with the captain; she's used every petty method to belittle her. Oftentimes, Delilah, the epitome of what most would consider Voeldahn beauty, behaves as if she's intimidated by the woman, who, aside from her increased height and strength, has a more voluptuous and curvier figure. It's become a source of gossip at the office, as women snicker about Delilah's growing insecurities.

“What about my work?" Sashuna asks.

“Heh... Your job isn't that hard. You can catch up when you get back. Drag him in here with those muscly arms if you have too. Bye-bye!" Delilah waves her clawed fingers, a smug grin on her face.

“I don't know where he lives..." Sashuna retorts.

“Ugh... Must I do everything?!"

Taking a piece of Kleenex from a box atop a coworker's desk, she uses a felt-tipped marker to scroll the apartment building address and his suite number. Her instructions are vague, but everyone still lives on the first tier. Handing the taller, raptor-like woman the tissue paper, with a most sinister delight, Delilah's lips curl into a twisted grin, revealing her teeth as Sashuna snatches the article with notable frustration. Without a word, Sashuna turns her back, her tapering tail swishing as she marches toward the door. Passing over the threshold, one of her pointy, elf-like ears pricks as she hears the Voeldahn giggling in the background.

It takes her only a second glance at the tissue paper before she's committed the address to memory; Sashuna is a startling fast learner. Heading through the main corridor, she enters the residential section of the tier, away from the front of Unity's sphere. She searches for the building, walking beneath the ship's artificial sky, feeling the warmth of digital sunlight against her dense and colorful hide. The Kanorakus wanders to and fro, routinely looking at the chronograph on her V.I. bracelet. It takes her some time before she discovers the building.

“Finally!" She exclaims, with a relieved sigh.

Entering the structure, it's a small matter to reach Halen's apartment, the suite he'd been living in since boarding Unity. As she walks, Sashuna cannot help but wonder why Halen was transferred. It's only been a few weeks since they've been aboard Unity, flying through space, toward the Dezonian's true home world of Azavia. Most haven't grown sick of their jobs yet, even the refugees, some of whom having questionable skills to contribute. Perhaps he failed at a previous job? Or perhaps he excelled and has been promoted? If so, why would he tarnish his reputation so swiftly, by refusing to arrive on time for his new assignment?

Standing before Halen's apartment door, Sashuna presses her golden claw against the tiny button. She hears the buzzer inside, then waits. Nothing. She presses again. After a minute or two of silence, she balls a fist and pounds on the door.

“Hello?! ... Anyone home?!"

Looking left and right, Sashuna stands alone in the hallway. Could she have been mistaken about the address? Removing the tissue paper reveals that she is, in fact, at the correct location. Sighing and slipping the paper back into a pants pocket, she ponders her situation. The last thing Sashuna wants to do is return to work to be berated by Delilah, who will undoubtedly tease her for failure. The moment Halen does show up for work, the dainty squirrel Voeldahn will find some quip to throw at her. The Kanorakus looks left and right once again, taking a deep breath.

Slipping a hand into a pocket, she retrieves a small cable and a little device. Hooking the device to a port on her V.I. bracelet, which she's since hacked, a trick taught to her during her time as one of the Goddess's Children, Sashuna steps closer to the door panel. With a healthy level of paranoia, she constantly checks the hall as she plugs the cable into a port on the panel, using a program and the additional power of the tiny device to break into Halen's home. After several seconds, the device replicates the signal to unlock the door for her, as if she were Halen himself.

Taking the plug from the panel and the device from her bracelet, she quickly stuffs the articles back into her pocket, opens the door and steps inside. No sooner than she crosses into the home is she met with a pungent odor. So strong is the smell that she winces her golden eyes, furls her brow and contorts her lips, grimacing at the potent air. The smell is unnervingly familiar, yet it draws her closer. Walking through the living room, she calls out to Halen, who doesn't answer. A curious Sashuna checks the bathroom and a spare room, but finds nothing, wandering through an apartment that's not unlike her own in layout and quality.

With only the master bedroom left to check, she walks through the door and stops, gasping at a horrific sight. Lying atop the bed, a dead Halen stares back at her with lifeless eyes. The Voeldahn is as naked as the day he was born, with patches of fur missing and burn scars covering the portions of exposed flesh. The stench of blood fills the room, a coagulated pool near the base of the bed. Stumbling back, Sashuna runs away, unable to stomach either the sight nor the smell of his corpse. His lifeless eyes remind her too much of Korazhu's.

“I have the asset, Miss Ayanda!"

“Good work, Drayusa. Keep them under guard, and take them to Engine Pod Four and for its routine check." Miss Ayanda instructs.

“Right away! ... You'd think the Dezonians would've made a ship that didn't need so much tweaking." Drayusa remarks.

“This whole ship is a hybridization, and even they can't predict everything. Just keep your eyes peeled and be ready for anything; come home in one piece."

“Understood!"

Ending the call, Miss Ayanda lowers her wrist and leans back in her chair. Resting her head against the backrest, she turns her ruby eyes toward the ceiling. With a heavy sigh, she sits upright, feeling a sluggishness overcoming her. She'd had a hard time sleeping these past few nights, but that normally doesn't affect her so dramatically. Leaning against her desk, on her forearms, the pine green and crimson Kanorakus closes her eyes.

“Ugh... Caffeine... That's probably what I need." She murmurs.

Rising from her chair, she walks around her desk, her long, tapering tail swishing gracefully behind her. Entering the main hall, she heads for a far corner, approaching a machine that's mounted beside a comfortable, black couch. Taking a cup from a dispenser, Miss Ayanda sets it atop a grated shelf, and choosing her flavor, she presses a clawed finger to the holographic screen. A stream of dark liquid fills the cup, steam billowing from the opening. Taking the hot coffee, Miss Ayanda brings the cup to her blocky snout, sniffing the concoction.

“Mmm..."

“Pardon me, Miss Ayanda."

Shifting her body and glancing over her shoulder, Miss Ayanda looks back at the speaker.

“Oh, hello, Fizona!" She chirps, turning to face her.

“Hello to you too. May we speak?"

“About?" Miss Ayanda asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I seem to be in-office far more than usual. Ever since that little trip to the prison a few days ago, I haven't physically dealt with... Anything."

“And?" Miss Ayanda raises a brow.

“... And that's not how I'm used to working." Fizona retorts.

Miss Ayanda takes another, large gulp.

“Ahh! ... Some might say that ending the civil war was the best thing the Solakus ever did for us, but I personally think it's this. Why couldn't we have coffee beans on Kanor?"

“Miss Ayanda?"

“Look..." Miss Ayanda takes another drink. “I understand you're struggling to adapt, but you're doing a wonderful job. Honestly, I think your performance has increased since I took you out of the field."

“... Really?"

“Really!" Miss Ayanda grins. “It's certainly an adjustment, but I have faith in you. Do your best, Fizona. If you find yourself struggling, you may always turn to me for help."

“Alright. Thank you for your time, Miss Ayanda."

“Of course!"

Fizona respectfully bows her head before returning to her office to continue her work. With the conflict successfully averted, Miss Ayanda takes another drink, swiftly emptying the small cup. Turning back to the machine, she refills her cup, already feeling refreshed from the brew. As the container is filled, the main door slides open. Miss Ayanda watches from the corner of her eye as Kellan and Stefan enter from the main corridor.

“Hello, Miss Ayanda!" Both men chirp, approaching their superior.

“Hi." She waves a clawed hand. “Anything to report?"

“I checked on my top lieutenants, and the patrols are pretty uneventful. No negative activity with the refugees and most of them are adapting to their new rolls pretty well." Stefan begins.

“And I have the reports from my drones; Unity Police have the second easiest job." Kellan says, handing over a datapad. “Just a few arguments, a domestic, and two catfights in public places. Most were issued warnings, while the others got away with a fine of a few Unity Points. I've told my subordinates that officers are to only arrest people when they're left with no reasonable alternative, like you wanted."

“Good, good! Well... You know where I'll be!"

“Why do we call them 'cat fights'?" Stefan suddenly asks.

“What do you mean?" Kellan raises a brow.

“I mean, when girls are fighting it's usually called a 'cat fight', so what would they call it when two, feline Voeldahn men are fighting?"

“... Uhm..."

“And why isn't there a 'human fight'? Why is it a 'dog fight' when two ships are dueling? Why isn't that a 'bird fight'?"

“Here's a question. Why are you thinking about stuff like that?"

Miss Ayanda softly chuckles as she listens to their banter, returning to her office with her second cup of coffee.

“Ever since I melded with Drayusa, I hear her thoughts and I can see through her eyes. The way she sees our culture, from the outside looking in... Well, it makes you think. She gets me thinking; why do we do and say half of the things we do? I don't have answers for most of her questions."

“Do you feel the same about her culture?" Kellan poses.

“Most times. She can rarely explain what makes her tick, but it actually helps us bond, being so different. Makes me realize just how much I love her when I can see how much we put aside to have a life together." Stefan chirps.

“Yeah. I feel the same way about Sihl." Kellan remarks.

“Speaking of Sihl, Drayusa and I were wondering... When are you two going to try for it?"

Kellan's perplexed look lasts for all of a second before he realizes what his friend and associate is insinuating.

“Oh! ... Well, I'm not really sure. To be honest, we rarely talk about it. I suppose it's an option, but... I don't know..."

“Do you even want kids?" Stefan raises a brow.

“Kind of... It's a gray area for us." Kellan admits.

“Why? ... I mean, it wouldn't be the first time in history that a hybrid's been born. It's been over a decade since we learned about the other races. We've had plenty of time to figure out that we're evolutionarily close enough to the Irakus to be genetically compatible."

“So are you and Drayusa... Aren't you even the least bit worried about what a human and Kanorakus mix would look like?" Kellan retorts rather defensively.

“Worried?! No." Stefan succinctly replies, barely subduing a chuckle.

“Okay..."

“I mean, the fact that I'm even with a Kanorakus says a lot. I knew a lot of people who, for the first few years after we encountered them, thought they looked like monsters from people's nightmares. We said the same thing about eight-foot-tall bugs and the little, bird-people with two sets of jaws when they first showed up."

“I suppose... We did talk about it once, but Sihl sounded as apprehensive as me. Maybe someday."

“We were just curious."

Before either can continue their conversation, Kellan's V.I. bracelet begins to chirp. Lifting his wrist and viewing the holographic screen, he's surprised to find that Major Castleman is calling. Pressing the button, he accepts the call.

“Hello, Major."

“Sir! I hope I'm not bothering you, sir, but there's a situation that I need to bring to your attention."

“What? I was just down there barely an hour ago. What happened?!"

“We uh... We got a call, sir... Someone found a body." Major Castleman nervously responds.

“... How did they die?"

“We're not sure, sir. I have men posted at the address, but I hesitate to send anyone in to investigate. As you know, most of them are ex-military, not police." Major Castleman replies.

“Alright. I'll handle it."

“Thank you, sir!"

No sooner than he ends the call, Kellan races for Miss Ayanda's office.

“Miss Ayanda!"

“What's wrong?"

“I just received a call from one of my subordinates... They've found a body."

“What?!" She swiftly rises from her chair. “Were they murdered?!"

“I don't know. They didn't investigate yet. I'll have to find some experienced cops to handle it." He answers.

“You're an experienced cop. So's Stefan! In fact, Stefan worked homicide on Mars. Why don't you both investigate this death?"

Hearing Stefan's footsteps, Kellan turns toward his friend and associate, who shrugs his shoulders at the suggestion. Looking back at Miss Ayanda, Kellan nods his head.

“Yeah, alright. We're on it."

Leaving her office, Miss Ayanda watches them returning to theirs, ostensibly to collect a few things. Pressing a button mounted on her desk, she closes her door, simultaneously lifting her wrist to place a call on her bracelet. After clearing their schedules and collecting what they need, Kellan and Stefan head for the address provided to them by Lieutenant Castleman. It's a recently assigned apartment, to a man who had recently been released from the prison. Neither needs to speak, but both share the thought; was Halen, the former Solakus Councilman murdered in retaliation?

Anti-Dezonian sentiment hasn't shrunk in the least, and violence is only thwarted by Unity's strictly controlled and well-disciplined soldiers, who protect the ninth tier. After racing through the narrow streets of the craft, they arrive at the apartment building, where several officers stand around a seated Kanorakus. The women appears unsettled from the discovery, turning her frightened eyes toward the two humans as they enter the lobby. Spotting the red-headed Kellan, the officers immediately recognize the man who is effectively the chief of police, waving him over.

“I can question her, if you want to go up and make sure the scene is secure." Stefan offers.

“Right. I can do a preliminary investigation." Kellan nods.

Waving Stefan over, the officers witness the exchange, greeting Stefan and introducing him to the woman who's discovered the corpse. Meanwhile, Kellan makes his way upstairs, finding a horde of residents crowding around the door. A few seem able to stomach the smell, while many others back away of their own volition, their clothes pulled up and covering their noses. Even Kellan, who'd been a cop for many years, still struggles with the smell. He'd been a first responder to more than his fair share of fatal crime scenes.

“I should've packed my vapo-rub..." He murmurs.

Approaching the scene and wading through the crowd, he keeps his hand from racing toward his face, doing his best to tolerate the repugnance of death emanating from apartment. Immediately recognized, he's greeted by his underlings and ushered into the apartment.

“Sir! It's good to see you, sir!" His officers gush.

“Yeah, what a nice day we're having." He quips. “Take me to the body."

“Right this way, sir!"

Led through the apartment and to the bedroom, Kellan's men point at the door. Stepping through the doorway, he recognizes Halen, the male, Voeldahn Councilmember that was recently released from prison. Like all of the others who were deposed, the control of their seats now firmly in the grasp of captain Marcus Basile, he's one of only four who survived their capture. Kellan is struck by the frightening sight of the naked man's corpse, his head turned and lifeless eyes, like plastic buttons, staring right at him as he stands in the doorway. His milky eyes bulge from his head, a side effect of being shot in the skull and eliminating the vacuum pressure within.

However, as unsettling at that is, the scene itself is worse. Halen's nude body should be covered with a shiny coat of fur, like all Voeldahn; even those with features like rodents, whose hands and feet might be bare, have full coats of fur. Halen, however, has patches missing, with burn scars on the flesh beneath. Though his wounds have obviously been treated and he seems to have been healing, some of the burns are very difficult to conceal. There's a patch on the left side of his snout, and another on the right side of his neck, reaching up to his lower jaw.

Beneath his head is a large pool of blood, little chunks forming in it, as it separates from the plasma. Walking around the bed, Kellan examines the body very carefully. Reaching out a hand, he touches the furry leg of the corpse, feeling the stiffness of the muscles and the total lack of body heat. He tries to lift the leg, only to find that Halen's whole corpse wants to move with it.

“Well, that's a nice smell..." Stefan remarks, entering the bedroom. “Who do we ha-... Oh, shit..."

“Yeah..."

“What the fuck..."

“Yeah..."

Stefan pauses, taking in the grotesque sight, more unnerved by Halen's body and the apparent torture he'd suffered than his body itself. He also walks around the body, his eyes scanning the scene and noting every detail, however minute.

“Room temp?" He asks Kellan.

“And stiff. He's been here a while."

“That looks like a blaster wound at his right temple." Stefan points out.

“I don't see a blaster though..."

“The bed is arranged into a corner; I don't see the sheets ruffled on his side."

Taking out a compact video recorder, Stefan and Kellan leave the room to perform a walkthrough, before photographing the scene. After thoroughly documenting the rooms contents and Halen's body, they call in a few men, preparing to move him into a body bag.

“Get ready for it." Stefan remarks.

“Ready for what?" An officer asks.

Stefan ignores the question. Lifting the corpse from the bed, they're struck by the overwhelming stench, magnified by the body's removal. As Halen's corpse is pulled away from the bed, it reveals a compact blaster and a sheet of paper. Placed near his right hip, Stefan photographs and then examines the weapon. It bears speckles of dried blood near the muzzle, clear evidence of contact. Bagging the fired blaster as evidence, Stefan then photographs and examines the paper, discovering it to be an overturned picture. A family smiles up at Stefan, except for Halen, whose face is crossed out with red pen, the handwritten words “I'm sorry" captioning the top. Seeing the picture, Kellan turns to his men.

“See if we can find anything else in here that's handwritten."

“Yes, sir!"

A thorough examination of the room reveals a paper journal, and after browsing through the book, at a glance, the writing on the picture appears roughly the same.

“Well, at least it doesn't look like a murder." Kellan remarks, standing just outside of Halen's apartment.

“We should continue investigating, just to make sure." Stefan retorts.

Chirp, chirp, chirp. Lifting his wrist, Kellan looks at the holographic image, seeing a call from Miss Ayanda.

“Hey, boss." He greets her image with a wave.

“It's been a while; what's the situation?"

“A single, male Voeldahn victim. It looks like a suicide." He answers.

“I'd like to investigate further, just in case." Stefan interjects.

“No need!" Miss Ayanda chirps.

“I'm sorry?" Stefan raises a brow.

“Am I cutting out? I said 'No. Need.'" She reiterates.

“I don't know if that's a good idea; I've seen murders made to look like a suicide, and his body has marks that looks like he's been tortured. It doesn't hurt to err on the side of caution, right?" Stefan retorts.

“How did he die?" She asks.

“A blaster shot to the right temple. We found the weapon and a photo with some handwriting that looks to be the victims." Kellan answers.

"That sounds open and shut to me. This is a tragedy, but it's also not a murder. Whatever happened to him before is of little concern to you; his troubles are over." Miss Ayanda coldly retorts. “Have the maintenance droids clean and fumigate the apartment, then get back to the office."

Ending the call, Miss Ayanda leans back in her chair, sighing with frustration. After taking a moment, she looks to the holographic screen of her terminal and begins typing. Using the digital report, which she already has access to, she looks up the victim's files. To her dismay, the victim, Halen Schoeffel, was one of the survivors of the former Council. Digging deeper, she accesses his sealed files, files that only the Councilmembers ever had access too. Her ruby eyes scan the screen, reading the text as her heart sinks.

“I'm sorry... I hope they'll be okay." She speaks softly to herself.

Looking at the dossiers of Halen's family, a brother, sister, his parents, and their extended family, all of whom are being monitored by Director Ashford, she knows that their fate may be sealed. The Solar Council gave Director Ashford full control over virtually anything relating to Project Unity, and both the project's and ship's personnel. As the plan was always a dangerous gamble, Director Ashford took extra measures to ensure it would succeed; he never assumed, as the Dezonians did, that the other races would see what could be gained and accept their fate.

He assured that the Council would never disobey their directives by choosing only those with families whom they cared for, threatening to defame or even kill them if any in the Council should ever disobey Unity's secret objective, or surrender their seat for others to do the same. Death or completion was the only escape for any among Unity's Council, and even then, it did not spare their family unless a message was sent to Director Ashford via the long-range transmitter. Captain Marcus 'Madrid' Basile and Miss Ayanda did not realize this until long after dealing with the already imprisoned Council, all but ensuring their failure to Director Ashford.

With nothing left for her to do but feel guilt, Miss Ayanda closes the screen. Perhaps by avoiding any contact with the former Councilmembers and the dossiers of their families, she can forget about their suffering? Miss Ayanda lifts her wrist, placing another video-call.

“Hi." Madrid greets her with a little wave.

“Hello, Madrid. Did you have time to talk?"

“Sure..."

“I heard back from my people. It looks like a suicide, so we can breathe a sigh of relief there; it wasn't retaliation."

“Oh..." He murmurs.

“Aside from that, I've also collected the data for Unity's crime statistics. We're doing remarkably well, all things considered!" She chirps.

“I see..." He sighs.

“I suppose that means I can take people who are designated soldiers and vet them for secondary skills; the last thing we need is for them to get fat doing nothing."

“Okay..."

“... You don't look or sound like yourself, Madrid... Are you alright?"

“I'm fine..." He speaks under his breath.

Regardless of his answer, his brow is softened and his lips curled down with notable sorrow. His melancholy look is unmistakable, and it bothers the Kanorakus woman.

“Are you sure? Is this about Halen? Was that what's bothering you?" Miss Ayanda presses him.

“Are you religious?" He suddenly asks, turning his sullen eyes toward her.

“I used to be... A long, long time ago."

“I read all the dossiers... I just..." He pauses and sniffles, his eyes beginning to water. “... Do you think we're going to hell for this?"

“I don't know..." She quietly answers, turning her eyes away in shame.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm already there, and it scares me..."

“We didn't hold their family's hostage. We didn't build a ship on a grand lie. We didn't plan on being forced into some sick corral where our primary job was to breed like factories. We didn't agree to any of this. We're doing what we need to do, to get this mission over with and go home, to our little patch of galaxy that we never should've left. We're not in the wrong." She sternly replies, hoping her pep talk will lift his spirits.

“I know... But it doesn't always feel like we're in the right either."