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Unity

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Twenty-Five: Dissention

“It’s nice to finally hear from you...” Director Ashford growls.

“Yeah, I had some important business to attend to.” Madrid replies.

“I called you yesterday! I’ve waited nearly twenty-four hours!” Director Ashford screams in a rage.

“Is that all?! ... Huh.” Madrid looks at his V.I. bracelet’s chronograph. “Oh well!” He shrugs.

“... Oh well? I’m the principal fucking Director of this project!”

“And I’m the fucking captain of Unity. I’m the one sitting in the driver’s seat. I can choose who and when to call. You’re lucky I even bothered...”

Director Ashford’s brow raises in shock, the hologram of the man covering the wall of the comm room and looming over Madrid like a god.

“Well?! Are you going to keep wasting my time or did you have something to say?!” Madrid demands, looking up at the hologram.

Director Ashford chuckles softly as he taps his fingertips together just before his lips.

“Have you dealt with those refugees yet? Are any of them integrated into your crew?”

“No, and no.” Madrid casually answers.

“... Why not?”

“I’m waiting for the go-ahead from Miss Ayanda and her people; we’re enhancing security in preparation, in case they don’t take too kindly to being kidnapped.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Director Ashford asks, raising an eyebrow.

“... I’m sorry?”

“To my understanding, most of the Slaver’s Union’s cargo is lured or taken from less than reputable areas. After hearing about and then seeing that ship, with the luxuries of Earth and elbow room akin to Mars, why leave?” He poses.

“People enjoy free will, and several decades is a lot to ask from anyone.” Madrid retorts.

“In twenty-something years, when you reach Azavia, they won’t even remember what Sol looked like.” Director Ashford laughs.

“I will...” Madrid murmurs.

“Oh, please. You knew what you were getting into when you were given clearance level zero.” He waves a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, well, if I’ve learned anything from this, it’s that a man should read his email.”

“Did... Did you not know?!” Director Ashford stares with shock.

“You get a little excited when you see that promotion to captain. Things are forgotten.” Madrid shrugs his shoulders.

“... Do you have a problem with this mission?” Director Ashford asks.

It’s now apparent to him that Marcus Basile may have genuinely overlooked his job requirements and the true mission statement, though he doesn’t know how that could possibly be the case. The captain is every bit the maverick he was made out to be when they vetted his background, however, he was elected captain of Unity due to his stellar, decade-long military record. Looking down at Madrid, Director Ashford now wonders if they’ve made a mistake. Captain Basile has the makings of a wild card, and wild cards are inherently untrustworthy.

“Perhaps... Someone else should be elected?” Director Ashford carefully suggests.

“I’m driving the bus, Director Ashford...” Madrid growls. “I’ll attempt to carry out the mission to the best of my ability, because I know that you’ve got me by the balls, but don’t think for a second that I’m your bitch. I don’t jump on command, and I don’t answer when I don’t feel like it. Don’t call me again; if I have something important to say, I’ll contact you...”

Madrid presses a button and abruptly terminates the call. Sitting in his office, Director Ashford nervously bites his nails. Approaching the terminal, Madrid opens a side panel and unplugs a board, preventing incoming transmissions from headquarters before replacing the panel and concealing the damage.

“There we go!” He sighs.

Stepping out of the comm room, which houses the experimental, long-range transmitter, Madrid enters the bridge. Walking around the bridge and looking over the shoulders of his crew, he examines their consoles. He pauses when he stands just behind the engineer, his blue-green eyes focused on the countdown. A complex algorithm was created by the Dezonians for the hybrid engines powering Unity. She cannot stay in the warp bubble the entire time they’re flying, even if she were heading directly for Azavia. Each jump lasts approximately a week, before the ship exits the warp bubble and the engines wind down to recharge.

This safety protocol prevents undo wear and tear on the custom-built engines that cannot be replaced without mooring to a station, and limits the risk of an overload and subsequent meltdown. With four days and twenty-three hours left, there’s little chance that anything could go wrong. They certainly won’t encounter anyone in space when compressed into a singularity and moving substantially faster than the speed of light. Sighing, he leans his head back and stares at the ceiling for a moment. Though only the start of the day, he decides to take a walk; he needs to clear his head.

Walking away from the console, Madrid steps out into the hall, where he plans to wander aimlessly. His boots clank slowly on the floor panels as he lets his thoughts race. Glancing toward a door, he stops and stands before the office where both Sashuna and Delilah work.

“Then he showed up. That’s when the dream became really interesting.” Delilah says to a coworker.

“I can imagine.” The mare Voeldahn smirks.

“You have no idea, Adi. I could feel his lips, his hands, and his big-”

“Hello, girls!” Madrid chirps as he opens the door.

“HAI!!!” Delilah exclaims, a startled look on her face.

“Hi, Madrid.” Sashuna waves.

“Hey, captain.” Adi greets him.

“How’s it going?” Another girl asks.

“Tedious and mind-numbing; the same as usual.” He grins. “Is everyone doing alright?”

“Good.” Several women reply.

“How’s your ankle, Delilah?”

Leaning against Adi’s cubicle and standing beside the squirrel Voeldahn, Delilah’s heart races and she struggles with her words.

“I-it’s fine.” She chokes out.

“Good!”

She turns her eyes toward him, their gazes locking. Unable to hide her smile, the young woman feels an internal panic, brought on by her nervousness.

“S-so, what brings you here, captain?” She asks.

“Please, just Madrid.”

“What brings you here, Madrid?” Delilah rephrases.

“I said that I was going to check on you again, didn’t I? I wouldn’t want to be a liar.” He replies.

“How sweet, er, thoughtful! How thoughtful of you.” She says, her grin widening.

“I have my moments. Honestly, I don’t really need an excuse to visit.”

“Making sure we’re pulling our weight?” Adi quips.

“Can’t have you having fun in here, can we?” He smirks.

“You slave driver.” Sashuna teases.

“Someone’s got to do it!” He cheerfully retorts. “Besides, I like the atmosphere in here.”

“I never noticed an atmosphere; it’s just an office.” Delilah remarks.

“I wouldn’t expect you to notice.”

“Why’s that?” She cocks her head.

“You’re not the one standing beside a beautiful woman.”

Delilah’s heart skips a beat. Adi and Sashuna both raise their brows and several other workers, all female, take an interest in the conversation. None of them have ever heard Madrid flirt before or so bluntly compliment anyone.

“How do you manage to get any work done with her around?” He asks Adi, pointing a thumb at Delilah.

“We manage.” Adi replies.

“You’re all far stronger than I.” He remarks.

“Is that so?” Delilah asks.

“Oh, yeah! After a few days of staring and a nosebleed or two, I’d have probably asked for a transfer.”

Delilah can’t believe the turn of events. She’s almost at a loss for words as the object of her desires admits an attraction to her in front of her entire office. With her confidence soaring, she turns and rests an elbow on the cubicle divider, her cheek resting on her palm as she leans against Adi’s workspace.

“Wouldn’t you miss me?” She coos.

Madrid’s eyes swiftly scan her figure. He doesn’t even attempt to hide his gaze. Starting from her shoes, he examines her pawlike, digitigrade feet, her toned legs, broad hips, thin waist and flat belly, before looking at her modest yet perky and full B-cup breasts and pausing for a moment. Watching his eyes, Delilah’s big, bushy tail sways, her lips curling upward and her teeth showing through her ever-increasing smile. He continues to scan her, his eyes locking onto hers.

“Sure, but I wouldn’t miss constantly tipping over my desk.” He winks.

“True.” She giggles. “It’d probably be for the best. You’d be doing me a favor too.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “All of the work I could get done without you and your tipping desk.”

“It’s a shame that pens are round. That’d be quite distracting.” He retorts.

“The falling pens wouldn’t be what’s magnetically drawing my eyeballs.” She says, her eyelids narrowing around her amber spheres.

“Then maybe it’d be my tilted monitor?”

“Or it could be your strong features.” She answers, her eyes visibly scanning his body.

“Damn! ... And here I thought a gorgeous woman like you had standards.” Madrid smirks.

“Shut up!” She laughs, gently pushing his arm.

Sashuna sits in her cubicle, at her desk, watching through the opening as Madrid and Delilah flirt in front of another coworker’s workspace. Her heart sinks. She’s reminded of the sweet words that Korazhu would speak to her and the nights they’d share in the privacy of her quarters, regaling their feelings and holding each other. Often, this would lead to passionate and loving sex. Their connection only made the pleasure that much more potent. A sadness overwhelms her. Though she misses Korazhu’s company overall, watching Madrid and Delilah, she can see that they’ll probably soon mate; the attraction is both mutual and potent.

At this moment, the purple and gold Kanorakus woman can only think of the carnal act itself. She misses being touched, held, kissed, and so much more. After targeting Korazhu for her affection, which he gladly reciprocated, they hadn’t gone more than a few days without mating; they’d been routine lovers for nearly a year before his death. The abrupt destruction of both their bond and her sex life has been incredibly difficult for her to adapt too. The loneliness seeps in, and she can’t help feeling it’s crushing weight. She loses focus, her elf-like ears no longer hearing the flirting between the two Solakus.

“I see how you are. I’m just eye candy, huh?” Madrid teases Delilah.

“Well...”

She raises her shoulders and lowers her head, turning her eyes toward him as she holds the innocent pose.

“Damn. That’s cold.”

“I’m kidding!” She reaches out and touches his arm. “I’m not that shallow.”

“Oh, good.” He chuckles. “I might be, though.”

Delilah giggles. Leaning back against Adi’s cubicle, he turns his head toward Sashuna. Seeing her sulking at her desk, his smile fades, though it doesn’t vanish entirely.

“Well, I have to get going. I have captain stuff to do.”

“Right. Can’t let the ship fall into anarchy.” Delilah remarks.

“Or crash into a sun.” Adi quips.

“Indeed.” Madrid rests a hand on Delilah’s shoulder. “So, I’ll see you around?”

“Of course!” She chirps.

Stepping away from her, he approaches Sashuna’s cubicle.

“Hey.”

“Hm? Oh, hello.” She turns her head toward him.

“Fitting in alright now? It’s been about a day.”

“I am.” She nods.

“That’s good. Will I see you at lunch?”

“Sure.” She says with a little smile.

Delilah feels a rush of jealousy as Madrid speaks so casually with the young Kanorakus woman.

“Great! I’ll see you then.” He says as he steps back. “You girls have a good day now.

Turning around and walking out, Madrid and Delilah share a gaze before he steps out into the hallway. Looking over her shoulder at Sashuna, she notes that the raptor-like alien no longer has a melancholy aura. Her spirit is visibly lifted and she resumes her work. Does she desire Madrid as well? She knows all too well that Kanorakus women have a more direct approach when it comes to sexuality. Does she have to worry about Sashuna? Returning to her own workspace, Delilah resumes her duties, though her mind continues to spiral around the recent events and future possibilities.

Walking along the hall and back to the bridge, Madrid’s V.I. bracelet chirps. Lifting his arm, he sees that he has a video call from Miss Ayanda. Why does she always video call? He stops in his tracks, standing in the hallway as he presses the button and accepts the call. Miss Ayanda’s holographic image appears; a floating head smiles at him.

“Hello, Madrid. It’s good to see you aren’t in the bathroom this time.”

“You do tend to call at the most inopportune moments.”

“It’s a gift.” She chirps.

“So, what’s going on now?”

“My Lieutenants have informed their subordinates and we’re about ready.” She answers.

“Oh, good. I’m calling that meeting in three hours, so make sure your people are prepared.” He instructs.

“Of course.” She briefly bows her head.

No sooner than Miss Ayanda terminates the call, he opens a program on his V.I. bracelet, sending a text message to the team he’s set aside. He can feel himself growing nervous as the loading circle spins and shrinks, morphing into a solid dot and signifying the completion of the task. Soon, the refugees will learn the truth; the fact that some are already questioning whether they’ll return home fills him with dread. His conscience weighs heavy on his shoulders, crushing him like an anvil. He can only hope that Miss Ayanda and her security force will be ready for this.

Sitting in her office, Miss Ayanda rests her face in her hands, her clawed fingers pushing down her stiffening bristles. Her anxiety is evident by the change in their density. A knock on the frame of her opened door draws her attention.

“We’re ready, Miss Ayanda.” August begins. “Kellan and Stefan updated everyone else last night and every Major and Sergeant is aware of what we’re doing.”

“And?”

“And what?” He raises a brow.

“And how do they feel about it?” She elaborates.

“Oh! ... They’re not happy. Most of them think it’s a mistake and are quick to remind us that anywhere else it’d be illegal.”

“... You’re still going to tell them everything else?” She sheepishly asks.

“It’s the right thing to do.” He replies.

“The right thing is often the most difficult and bloody.” She retorts.

“No one but you still want to do this. I’m sorry, Miss Ayanda. This is happening.”

“I know... Prep every security team. They’re informing the refugees in three hours.”

“Understood.” He nods.

Stepping back from the door, August returns to the main hall where his fellow Lieutenants stand around. They all look to him with great concern; their anxiety is impossible to hide.

“Well?!” Sihl’Ahzen asks.

“Contact your Majors and have everyone activated. In three hours, they’ll tell the refugees that they’re not going home.” He says.

They all silently nod before slowly turning and heading for their individual offices. August steps into his own, walking around his desk. The sound of footsteps behind him draws his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he’s surprised to see Fizona just inside of the doorway.

“Hey. Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine. How’re you and Annette?” She asks.

“We’re good. She’s actually a really great girl.” He says as he sits in his chair.

“That’s good... August... I...”

Sitting quietly, he watches her for a moment. Fizona clearly has something on her mind. She slowly sits in the chair that’s before his desk, a strange look in her eyes. Is she sad? Afraid? Heartbroken? Jealous? Angry? He honestly can’t be sure.

“We’re still friends, Fizona. Whatever you have to say, just say it. I’m not going to judge you.” He says softly and with a gentle tone.

“I’m pregnant.”

August is floored. The white tiger Voeldahn’s jade green eyes bulge nearly out of his head. He sits back in his chair, his mouth agape. His clawed fingers run through his long, platinum blonde hair, resting against the upper sides of his skull.

“Uh...”

“It’s yours. I hadn’t mated with another man for months before we met, and when I still believed that we could work, I abstained from enjoying other men. It was quite a struggle, being monogamous; I wasn’t used to that.” She casually explains. “Anyway, I believe you impregnated me on the night we spent aboard the SM Deliverance. I suspected and used an at-home test the day after we mated that second time, aboard the liner. A visit to Unity’s doctor confirmed it.”

“I-I... I don’t know what to say.” A flabbergasted August admits.

“Are you angry?” She sheepishly asks.

“No! Why would I be?!”

“Oh, good!” She chirps, breathing a sigh of relief. “I was so worried that you’d be angry with me.”

“For being pregnant?” He raises a brow.

Fizona shrugs her shoulders.

“So... What did you want me to do?”

“I’m sorry?” She cocks her head slightly.

“Isn’t that why you told me? Don’t you want my support?” He asks.

“Oh! No, that’s not necessary. I was just scared that you’d be angry, especially with your new relationship. I’ve heard that in your culture, children can often complicate these matters.”

“That’s an understatement...” He murmurs. “So, what’re you going to do?”

“What kind of nonsensical question is that? I’m going to have my baby. It’s what females do; she designed us as such.” Fizona says as she rises from the chair. “I don’t want or need your help, nor do you even need to be around to help raise them, though I will tell our son or daughter who their father is once they’re old enough to understand.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He presses her.

“You have a new lover, August. She’s Solakus, and you two are much more compatible than you or I ever would’ve been.”

“I don’t know. You are pregnant... Also, there’s Drayusa and Stefan, and Draiman and Corova.”

“Your point?” Fizona snaps.

“I feel like I should do more. I’ll regret not being there for our kid.”

“I’m Kanorakus, August. This is not strange to me; single mothers are common on Kanor, as are unknown fathers. It’s my child, not ours.” She coldly replies. “Thank you for accepting this. I’m glad this went so well!”

Leaving his office, August sits at his desk in shock. It takes him several minutes before he recovers enough to merely make the call to his Major. After saying what needs to be said, he slumps back in his chair. A knock on the frame of his opened door catches his attention.

“We’re all set. When do you want to defrost the fish?” Drayusa asks, using a code they’ve agreed upon.

Peeking in through the door, she notes the strange look on his face. Her brow furled, she steps inside.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?” He turns his head toward her.

“I said, are you alright?” She asks again.

“... Fizona’s pregnant with our kid. She just told me.”

“Wow!” Stefan exclaims inside Drayusa’s mind.

“Oh...” Drayusa says under her breath.

She takes a seat on the chair before his desk.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t want me to help her with raising the baby.” He mutters.

“She’s from a different culture, August. She hasn’t adapted as well as the rest of us.” Drayusa begins.

“Obviously.” He snickers.

“On Kanor, females are the only gender with power. While women do pick mates and can link and meld, as I’ve done with Stefan, that doesn’t always happen, especially with younger, fertile females. I’ve linked far earlier than most, as has Corova with your cousin, and quite a few never feel so connected to a male as to warrant a meld. Most females our age are more like Fizona. You Solakus are comfortable pairing at younger ages but many Kanorakus women prefer to remain unlinked and enjoy many men. The mother goddess adores reproduction, and unlinked females with several children borne by various partners isn’t abnormal on Kanor.”

“The things I wish I knew months ago.” August sighs.

“I’m sorry... If it makes you feel better, she’ll love your child and take excellent care of him or her. The mother goddess also loves children of both genders, as they’re innocent; it would seem that Fizona still holds some of her religious convictions.”

“And think of it this way! You got to knock up an exotic, voluptuous alien and you won’t even have the burden on you and Annette, you bastard.” Stefan chirps, poking his head in from the main hall.

August chuckles. Stepping into the office, the human appeared out of nowhere but already aware of the situation through his psychic connection to his wife, Drayusa.

“That’s terrible advice.” She says to her husband.

“Not really.” August interjects. “We did what we did and she seems more than happy with the consequences. She isn’t even demanding I do something about it, and I don’t really have the desire to force her; she left me, and I’ve moved on.”

“See? What a piece of shit.” Stefan teases.

“Babe!”

“You’re just jealous because I already have a notch in my belt.” August retorts.

“He’s right... We should stop at our apartment. We can’t let him have the high score.” Stefan says to Drayusa as he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

Rising from her chair, the pair leave August’s office, though not to return to their apartment. Both still have more work to do before the inevitable meeting with the refugees. August’s smile fades as he stares at the top of his desk. Guilt creeps into his heart as he reflects on Fizona’s revelation. Snapping himself out of his mild depression, he lifts his arm and activates his V.I. bracelet, quickly placing a call.

“Hi!” Annette chirps.

“Hey. Assuming I’m free, did you want to come over tonight?” He asks.

“Sure! I’ve missed you.” She replies.

“Me too.”

“Well, I’m still on duty, so I have to go for now. Call me if you’re available. I’d love to see you again! Bye!” She chirps.

“Bye.”

With the call ended, he pauses for a moment before flipping through the contacts. He presses a button, placing a call. Ring, ring, ring.

“This is a nice restaurant!” Corova chirps.

“Hey, you’re using your words.” Draiman remarks.

“Sure. Just imagine how boring we must look to everyone else when we speak with our thoughts.”

“That or self-absorbed.”

“True. Besides, I like hearing your voice.” She grins.

“But you hear my voice in your head, like I hear yours.” He retorts.

“Also true.”

The pair sit at a table in the somewhat upscale restaurant. They type in their orders on a little holographic computer built into the table. After only a few moments, an android approaches them, rolling along the floor on two, thin tracks like a tank. Atop a tray mounted to a clawed hand on a long arm, it presents them with empty glasses, a pitcher of water and their selected bottle of wine. Pouring a glass of wine for his wife, Draiman looks to her, a little smile on his face. Looking back, her lips curl around her snout, forming a little grin.

“I’m glad we decided to come here, all things considered.” She says telepathically.

“Me too. This is the first time I’ve felt like we have a real future ahead of us.” He replies in her head.

Only moments later, the droid returns with their food, swiftly and expertly cooked in an automated kitchen. As they prepare to take their first bite, they’re distracted by a commotion a short distance behind Draiman. Looking back at the noise, a group of men sit at a booth. One speaks to someone on a V.I. bracelet, having just answered a call. None wear visible uniforms.

“But we’re off-duty!” The man complains.

“I don’t care!” The caller growls. “I need you back here right now. We’re calling everyone in.”

“This is bullshit...”

“Do you want to be reported?!”

“No...” The man murmurs.

“Then hurry up and join roll-call!” The voice from the bracelet growls before terminating the call.

“Damnit!” The man exclaims in anger.

“This must be important if they’re activating everyone.” Another remarks.

“Yeah. Let’s just hurry up, eat, and see what’s going on.”

Draiman turns back around in his seat, once again facing his wife. The human looks at the raptor-like Kanorakus, her ruby eyes locked onto his own. They both know why the security officers are being activated. As if on cue, Draiman’s V.I. bracelet, chirps; he and Corova both attained new ones from August, with pertinent contact data already installed. Lifting his arm, he sees that he has an audio-only call from August. Draiman accepts the call.

“Hello, cousin. How’s it going?” He asks.

“It could be better. We’re defrosting the fish in a few hours. Be ready for dinner.” He cryptically replies.

“Alright.”

Unwilling to be rushed by the ticking clock, the couple casually eat their meal and talk. After nearly an hour inside of the restaurant, they pay their bill with their Unity points card, often shortened to “UPC”, before walking to the tram station. Riding a tram to the central stalk of the ship, they ride a second tram back to the residential sphere, taking a large elevator to tier one and enjoying the walk home. Once in the safety of their apartment, the couple sit on their couch and watch their holoscreen, choosing a show from a large database of preserved entertainment from various systems.

They snuggle together as they wait for the call. It doesn’t take long, though they were hoping it would. Both of their V.I. bracelets chirp. Lifting their arms and examining the devices, they read a text message sent from Unity’s mass transmitter.

“All refugees are called to warehouse nine on tier two, for a meeting regarding your return to Sol.”

Looking at the holographic message emitting from her bracelet, Sashuna wonders why the text doesn’t simply and concisely explain their fate. Why call them to a meeting? As she’s about to rise from her desk and leave, her bracelet chirps. She presses the button to answer the video call.

“Hello, Madrid.” She waves at his image.

“Hi.” He waves back.

“Lunch was nice. I enjoyed our talk.”

“Me too. Hey... Can you see me in my office?”

“Can it wait until after this meeting?” She asks.

“That’s what this is about. Please, come to my office.”

She’s taken aback by the tone in his voice. It’s as if he’s pleading with her.

“Alright. I’ll see you soon.” She assures him.

“Good. I’ll be waiting.”

Leaving her cubicle, Delilah couldn’t help but overhear.

“Where are you going?” She asks as Sashuna passes by.

“Madrid has called me into his office. It probably has something to do with this meeting concerning the refugees.” Sashuna answers.

“Oh... Alright.”

Delilah watches her closely as the young and attractive Kanorakus woman leaves the offices. Walking the halls and heading for the bridge, she finds Madrid waiting for her before the massive, reinforced double doors. Her golden eyes take in the impressive room as he leads her through the bridge and toward a somewhat small, adjoining office. The door bears his rank, full name and even his alias, all painted in vibrant gold letters. He opens the door for her and she steps inside. She takes a seat in a chair that sits just before his ornate wooden desk, the door sliding closed behind them.

Rather than sit across from her and behind his desk, Madrid takes the second chair directly beside her. He shifts the chair so that he’s nearly facing her. Sitting in silence and nervously rubbing his hands together, he struggles to speak, fearful of her reaction.

“Is something wrong?” She finally asks.

“All of the refugees received a message.” He begins.

“Is that what this is about?”

“I like you, Sashuna. You’re a good person, and I consider you a friend.”

“Likewise. I feel the same about you.” She grins.

“And as your friend, I don’t want to lie to you... There’s something you don’t know about Unity. Something most people don’t know, actually...”

“What is it?”

Turning his eyes toward her, he prepares himself for the worst. Meanwhile, in Draiman and Corova’s apartment, the pair are still huddled together atop their couch. She leans on her side and lay partially over her husband’s chest. Corova tilts her head up, looking at Draiman. He strokes her soft, crimson bristles and kisses her snout, just between her nostrils.

“It’ll be okay.” He assures her.

“I know.” She grins faintly.

Rising from their couch, they leave their apartment and head for the little streets outside. Thousands of other refugees are doing the same. Their boots thud softly on the walkway as they head for the large elevator. It takes several turns before they are able to ride down to tier two; they’ve stalled on purpose, to avoid being caught in the middle of the powder keg. Walking through the small streets on the second tier, they swiftly find the warehouse. Walking hand in hand, Draiman and Corova make their way inside. The building is packed with refugees, and a series of crates form a makeshift stage where a representative and a score of armed guards wait to begin.

No sooner than the last of the refugees have entered, the doors to the warehouse close. Draiman and Corova stay near the exit, eager to be the first to leave. As they speak to each other in their minds, drowning out the cacophony of the other, very confused refugees, they wonder why they even left their apartment in the first place. The speaker clears her throat, bringing a microphone to her lips.

“Thank you all for coming!” She chirps.

The crowd swiftly grows quiet, eager to hear what she has to say.

“I know you’re all wondering when we’ll be returning to Sol... The project Director’s and Solar Council were contacted immediately after your rescue from the Lomboko, and they collectively agreed to order us to continue. We won’t be returning to Sol, until-”

The crowd of over thirty-two hundred people, of which more than two thousand and six hundred are younger women, explodes. They yell and scream at the speaker and her entourage of guards, interrupting her speech and demanding to know how this could happen. Draiman and Corova cover their ears, wincing from the incredible noise. It takes several moments of pleading with them before the group even allow the woman to respond at all.

“How can they do that?!” A woman demands.

“Why would they force us to stay here?!” Another girl asks.

The crowd grows increasingly angry. Draiman and Corova look around the warehouse, keeping their eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. They swiftly notice the scores of large window shutters opening near the ceiling. Hundreds of armed guards surround the building, standing on platforms outside and prepared to protect the representative with lethal force. Most of the refugees, however, don’t immediately notice the trap that they’ve walked into, though more become aware as the meeting continues.

“We didn’t agree to this! Most of us don’t even have the skillsets to work on a ship like this!” One of the few men adds.

“This ship was designed to carry far more than six thousand people!” The representative begins. “She was designed for deep space exploration and potential colonization! She can support thousands of families! Our own Solar Council has ordered us to continue and integrate all of you! We’ll find work that you’re suitable for, and you can continue to live in your current homes!”

“But what about our old homes?!” A woman asks.

The crowd rallies around her, moving closer to the makeshift stage. The guards at the windows bring their rifles to their shoulders.

“Were they as nice as the ones we’ve given you?! Did they have the same luxuries?!” The representative asks.

The crowd settles down once again.

“You were prisoners of the Slaver’s Union until a week ago, but aboard Unity, you have luxury apartments and the highest quality medical care! Aboard Unity, you have excellent civil servants, true security, and the best food! Unity is self-sustaining, and no one will go hungry here! The Solar Council urged us to keep you, so they clearly think you’ll be useful, and so do we! Just consider the fact that you’ll be partaking in a historic mission on a ship that’ll one day be legendary! Stay with us! Find your place in the stars! After all... We’ll all be going home eventually.”

Listening to the Voeldahn woman’s silver-tongue, Draiman snickers. He almost believes her himself, even after all that he’s learned. Though the crowd isn’t exactly agreeable, by now, many have taken notice of the hundreds of semi-hidden guards. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, even the most emotional realize that there’s little point in fighting. Some refugees actively consider the benefits of staying, speaking amongst each other as they consider their lives before and those they’ll have on this ship, the first of her kind. The doors to the warehouse open and the meeting adjourns.

To Draiman and Corova’s surprise, the majority of the refugees simply let it go, though their faces show their bitterness. For all that Unity provides, what it takes away is the freedom to choose their own fate; even if they would’ve chosen to stay, the fact that they cannot leave of their own accord is disheartening. Being the first to step outside, Draiman and Corova find a bench and watch the other refugees leaving the warehouse. Most of them pay little attention to the interspecies couple who sit and stare but a few take notice. Nearly a dozen Solakus men, most of them Voeldahn, approach the couple.

“Draiman, right?” A feline Voeldahn asks.

“Yeah.” He nods. “And my lovely wife, Corova.” He adds, slipping an arm behind her back and around her waist.

“Old friends, babe?” She asks him, resting her head against his.

“We met in that cafeteria yesterday, remember? I guess you were right.” The cat man says.

“I can’t believe they’re keeping us here.” A canine Voeldahn remarks.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, all things considered.” Draiman says.

“So, now what do we do?” A human asks Draiman.

“Why are you asking me?” Draiman raises a brow.

“Well, you knew they weren’t taking us home.”

The men stand there, looking to him for answers.

“Don’t worry... I have a plan.” Draiman assures them.

Back in Madrid’s office, Sashuna sits in a stunned silence, her clawed hand covering her gaping maw.

“I’m sorry, Sashuna. I wanted to tell you myself because I respect you. I wanted you to know the whole truth, not whatever they’re feeding the others.”

“How could you agree to such a mission?!” She asks.

“I didn’t know the truth until I was nearly aboard myself.”

“And you couldn’t do something about it?!”

“There’s not much I can do! There are measures in place that keep me from disobeying outright; I can swerve around them a bit, but I can’t run away. My hands are effectively tied.”

Looking into his glossy eyes, she can see his sincerity. She isn’t angry but shocked. She hadn’t realized how sinister the Dezonians or the Solar Council could be. As he sits and sulks, Sashuna’s recalls her time with the Goddess’s Children. Her past misdeeds are at least a match for his own, if not worse. Rising from her chair, she traverses the few feet between them and wraps her arms around the distraught human, her chin resting over his head.

“It’s alright. I’m not upset.” She assures him.

“You’re not?”

“No. My life for the past two months has been nothing but a constant turn of events. Whatever happens I simply live with. Although, Unity is a better option than I could’ve asked for.” She says, still holding him.

“Thanks. I’m glad I can trust you with this.” He says, hugging her back.

“How many others know the truth?” She asks.

“You, me, Unity’s Council, and a handful of high-ranking crewmembers.”

“In that case, I’m honored you could confide in me.” She remarks.

Realizing how much trust he’s placed in her, Sashuna feels a strange tinge of guilt. He doesn’t know her true past, though he is certainly aware that she was one of three Slaver’s. Her previous life among the Goddess’s Children is still a secret, though as she holds the human, who’s shared such dark and disturbing revelations, she wonders what he’d say if he knew. Her conscience, which rarely had a voice at all in regards to men and aliens such as Madrid, now screams loudly. Her guilt, along with a genuine desire to increase their bond of friendship, forces her to act.

“I have something I’d like to tell you as well, Madrid... Something I wouldn’t tell anyone else, and certainly not someone I’ve known for as short a time as you.”

“You weren’t born a male, were you?” He teases.

“Shut up.” She chuckles.

Ending the minute-long embrace, she rests her hands atop his shoulders before slowly stepping back and sitting down in the empty chair. As she takes a deep breath, Madrid mentally prepares himself.

“I want you to know the truth... About what I did before the Slaver’s Union...” She begins.