Chapter II

Within a few hours, Jen pulled into the driveway of James and Helen Clarke’s home. She looked over at the Eskarii who had fallen fast asleep in the truck. She took the moment to appreciate him. Her opinions on the Eskarii were more in line with Morrigan’s than one would assume though she found them fascinating for different reasons. Jen found their deadly side more attractive than their intellect, though she had no issues admitting the long pointed ears and colorful eyes were quite pleasing. Not to mention their physique, tall and lithe, most Eskarii she had seen had very tone bodies at the least. Torvil was cut like a warrior though, a body pushed and trained for the exertion of combat. Despite him adorning his armor before they departed the forest, she could easily see through it now. It took little of her imagination to see how his body could handle much more than just combat.

She smiled and shook her head of the thoughts before giving him a playful nudge. The movement caused him to jerk upwards in a daze before wincing. His relaxed muscles tensed painfully at the abrupt movement. “Wake up sleepyhead, we’re here,” she laughed as she got out of the truck.

Torvil groaned as he rubbed his face. “Ti'yn chi’ä!” he grumbled as he took in his surroundings. Jen was also checking the surrounding area before she gave Torvil a signal that it was safe to get out of the truck. She recalled the Federation had set up marines to keep watch on the Clarke home during their raid on the city, but now the neighborhood was quiet with no notion of surveillance.

They stepped up to the front door. Before Jen could even knock, the door cracked open. With a sigh of relief Helen Clarke opened the door more fully, “hell Jen, you scared the shit out of me.” Torvil and Jen took a second to look at Morrigan’s mother and saw that she looked exhausted and radiated stress. Neither of them were surprised and it brought a small pang of guilt to Torvil as he remembered having to strike the woman at one point. His frown was not subtle as his companion took a step forward to hug the other woman. The embrace however, did make Helen smile and let some of the stress roll off which was better than anything. “Its good to see you Jen.”

The short haired woman snorted as she pointed to Helen’s right hand, “I’ll say, I thought I felt something hard sticking me in the lower back.” Torvil quirked an eye brow and peered at the handgun that was in Helen’s hand while she began laughing at Jen’s crude joke. Feeling better, Helen relaxed and set the gun aside before inviting the both of them in. Though there came the moment that Helen had been so focused on Simmons, she failed to truly notice that the other person limping along behind Jennifer was an armored Eskarii. This gave her pause as she crossed the living room. She looked between Jen and the Eskarii as Jen casually plopped down onto the couch. Torvil caught Helen’s unease and held out his hand as far as he could without overbalancing over the coffee table.

“I am Torvil.” He greeted her. Helen gently shook his hand while her eyes narrowed.

It took a moment before she recognized the name and took a shocked step back, “wait, you’re Torvil?”

He was surprised initially that she had recognized his name, but between her husband and the woman who sat on her couch, it was no surprise that they had mentioned his name. He nodded and gestured to the couch. “May I?” he asked uncertain whether or not her recognition bode well. He knew a dower conversation would be had regardless and would prefer to get off his leg for it.

“Oh! Of course…” she let out as she quickly sat down as well. The tension in the air was becoming thick as Torvil slowly sat down and stuck his leg out straight next to the coffee table. The relief of pressure felt great to him though the concerned gaze in Helen’s gaze nullified any relief.

Jen picked up on it as well and cleared her throat gaining Helen’s attention. “Listen hun, this… isn’t a happy courtesy call…” she watched Helen tilt her head in growing concern and eyes reflecting rising fear. Jen sighed and shook her head, “its not as bad as you're thinking so just get those ideas out of your head…but, it isn't much better though,” she finished before turning to Torvil, pawning the story off on him. Helen shifted on the seat, torn between trying to be hopeful and preparing for the agony of the worst as her gaze set upon the Eskarii again.

Torvil sighed heavily and ran his hand through his dirty white hair before letting his eyes fall back onto Helen’s. “The plan failed, I failed in keeping your swyn'wyr safe from the Federation…” he proceeded to tell the story of their escape of the city and its ultimate demise. He went into further detail, starting from the school parking lot. Even Simmons was captivated at any part telling of Morrigan’s prowess though Jen grinned at Torvil’s own exploits in the airport terminals. “The good news is she must be alive somewhere, the problem is finding her will be difficult,” he said, finishing his story. Helen sat awestruck as Jen leaned back with a soft smile on her face.

“I thought maybe James was going crazy claiming she was a mage… I don’t know whether to be proud or even more confused,” Helen finally said, breaking the silence.

Jen chuckled and leaned forward, “I don’t know about you but I’m hella proud. Our little girl has grown up to be a bonafide badass and that’s always something to be proud of.”

Helen turned to Jen with furrowed brows, “yeah but… we don’t have a mage bloodline. No one in our family has the genetic precursors for magic adaptation…” she paused and looked to Torvil, “do you have any idea how she became a mage?”

Torvil pursed his lips and thought on it. After a moment he shook his head, “I do not know how Terrans evolved into swyn’ta. In truth, the young Clarke is very powerful for her age. I have never seen one with the kind of abilities she wields, nor have I see any swyn’wyr perform their abilities with such power and speed as she does. She is truly impressive and you should be quite proud but… why she has such abilities? I could not begin to understand.” Helen seemed inclined to agree having listened to his tale. “I do not fear for her safety, though it shames me to have failed her, she is quite resilient and her spirit more so. It will help her given the time it will require us to locate her… with the subject of shame… I must apologize for hitting you that day.”

Torvil carefully sat up and bowed slightly as a show of respect for Morrigan’s mother. Helen made a squeak of surprise before Simmons started cracking up hysterically. Torvil looked up to see Helen pursing her lips in amusement as Jen lost herself in laughter. He was not sure what he said that was so amusing but he leaned back regardless, accepting that he had apologized as Morrigan would have wished.

“Oh fucking hell my sides hurt!” she forced out as she slowly calmed herself down. Wiping the tears from her eyes she smacked Torvil in the good leg and added, “I can't figure you out sometimes. Stone cold assassin who feels bad for punching a woman I used to ritually get into drunken cat fights with just for fun? What is this 2021?”

Helen chuckled as she took a drink from a glass of water as Torvil looked curiously between the two women. “So you never apologize then?”

 Jen cracked a devious grin and looked him dead in the eye, “oh I always apologized, but it was in the form of a drunken make out session than a curtsy.” Mid-drink Helen choked and spit water out everywhere flailing her free hand.

“That’s a bloody lie!” she choked out before clearing the remaining water from her lungs.

Jen eyed her with a mischievous smile and tapped on her temple, “not up here it ain’t.” Torvil could not help but snort in amusement as he crossed his arms.

“You are an interesting Terran,” he noted with a small shake of the head.

Jen waved her hand in aloof fashion before turning her mischievous look towards him, “oh honey, you have no idea, but you will.” Helen snorted as she watched the tips of Torvil’s ears turn bright red before clearing her throat.

“So, what's the plan then?” she asked. Pulling away from the brief distraction they shared. Jen immediately sat up stoically and shrugged.

“Well, I’m assuming James had me bring Torvil here to lay low and let his leg heal. Not that he said here specifically but where the hell else am I going to bring him? Plus I'm guessing you might be able to let Torvil get in contact with some of his contacts in the CoU so we can get a start on finding Little Clarke,” she replied. Torvil nodded in affirmation. Helen thought about the plan for a moment. She knew it was a risk having Torvil in their house but it was minimal risk at best.

“Does the D.S.T.U. know you're here?” she asked Jen.

She shook her head, “James kept my helmet and thankfully since we are required helmets, the trucks do not have a GPS system.” Helen nodded and moved over to the TV. Reaching behind it, she grabbed the unregistered phone she had and held it out over the coffee table towards Torvil.

“Here, it’s unregistered. Only thing here that isn’t connected to the Federation so it should be safe to contact people,” she stated. Torvil accepted the phone and nodded sternly and started dialing.

The call went rang twice before it was expectedly rejected and he patiently waited for the voicemail. “Dru, its Torvil. Mission failed… this number is safe so call me back…” he said before hanging up and waiting. As Helen sat back down as Jen stood up.

“I should probably get to HQ, everyone should have arrived about ten minutes…” She trailed off as her phone chimed. Torvil checked the phone he held just in case however, it came from her phone. “Oh shit…” she said in a disbelieving groan.

Helen spoke up first, “what is it?”

“Its from Johnson… the shit has hit the fan…” she swallowed hard before looking Helen in the eyes, “James and Rigo have been arrested for aiding and abetting terrorism and allowing the escape of two terrorists…” she looked at Torvil then to Helen, “he said there is a warrant for me as well, they must have looked into our helmet’s footage from the other day…”

Torvil watched Helen’s heart sink as she covered her mouth. The woman was at her breaking point with everything. She choked on a silent sob as she recoiled into the couch and stared off into the distance. Jen on the other hand radiated a mix of desperation and determination as she stared at the phone before turning it off, ripping it apart, prying out the battery with her fingernails and setting it on the table. She then sat next to Helen and wrapped her arms around the woman.

Before Torvil could say anything, the phone he held began ringing. “Drusille.” He answered the call.

“C'est quoi ce bordel Torvil? What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Drusille's accent echoed from the phone as he was forced to lower the volume.

“I am fine… well, could be worse. My leg and ribs are injured but other than that I'm fine. As for what happened… the starship is slower than anti-air missiles.”

“What of the girl?” She asked after taking a breath.

It was Torvil's turn to sigh, “taken. By the Federation…”

“Shit. You know your sister is going to kill you right? If her parents don’t get to you first.”

“I am with her matriarch as we speak, but I do need my sister's contact information. She may be able to find those who can locate the girl.”

“Okay, I’ll send you the information, stay safe and don’t do anything dumber than you already have,” she said before hanging up. A moment later a message came through with Mo'Emori's number. Torvil let out a sigh of relief as he stared at the number. He was not sure if he was quite ready to deal with his sister though it was imperative for Morrigan's survival and could not be avoided. However, at least for the moment, he could avoid it until things were sorted in the Clarke dwelling.

Helen had appeared to have reached the end of her stress level and passed out in Jen’s arms. Torvil could not blame her; if one of his siblings were in Morrigan’s position, he would be relentlessly stressed and unable to do anything other than work towards finding them, even if it killed him. He frowned as he watched Jen run her fingers through the woman’s hair. He knew James Clarke’s team were more familial than not, he wondered how she was handling the new developments.

Jen noticed Torvil watching her and gave him a soft smile. She felt for Helen and did not want to leave her, but she needed to get rid of the truck before anyone spotted it. Not that she would be gone long. Seeing as there was now a high priority warrant out for her, she would not be able to return home. It would be better to skip town but eventually there would be a nationwide hunt for her. They would also watch Johnson and Peters closely and they knew to keep their distance from everyone for the time being, so staying with Helen and Torvil seemed to be a better option… at least a kinder option though it put Helen in the crosshairs as well. She was sure the risk was worth not being alone to face everything, she knew the woman well enough to know she would want her here.

She was curious of what Torvil made of the situation. The look in his eyes told her that he at least understood, if not sympathized. She let out a gentle breath as she looked down at her friend that was fast asleep in her arms. Looking back at Torvil she whispered, “Hey, can you find me a bottle of booze?” the look of puzzled look he gave her made her smile. “You know, alcohol, the thing we Terrans drink,” she explained, unsure whether he was confused by what booze meant, or if now was an appropriate time to get drunk. His face flashed in a look of recognition and gave her a stern nod before he looked to spot the kitchen on the other side of the stairwell and stood carefully, ensuring silence as he hobbled around the couch.

It took him several minutes to silently go through each cabinet before finding a large bottle of amber-brown liquid. On the label it said the word “80% alcohol” on it in small print near the bottom which was good enough for him and carefully made his way back and around the couch again. He gently set the bottle down in front of her before taking his seat again. He cocked his head to the side when she frowned at the bottle. “Its going to be such a waste of good booze,” she admitted with discontent. Jen gently shifted one arm to support Helen’s head while ever-so gently nudging the woman off of her towards the arm of the sectional. She did her best not to disturb the woman’s sleep as she freed herself and gently lay a thin blanket that was draped on the couch over her. She grabbed the bottle as she turned around and took a quick sip from the bottle.

Torvil watched in amusement as the woman grimaced as the liquid burned the back of her throat. “Definitely a shame,” she whispered before handing the open bottle to him. Sniffing the bottle, he recoiled with a wrinkle of his nose which made her smirk sinisterly before he took a taste of the rum. Torvil immediately covered his mouth to keep from spitting out the drink. As he forcibly swallowed he suppressed a cough, “Du'wiesau that is terrible. You Terrans willingly drink this?” his voice croaked in a harsh whisper.

That caused Jen to giggle as she stepped over and took the bottle from him replacing the cap. “And just think, that’s considered a better version of alcohol than others,” she said as she leaned down to his ear. “I’m going to go borrow some clothes and get out of this armor, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded as he cleared his throat. His face was red from fighting to keep a cough suppressed but she could see the subtle spasm in his chest. He looked back to the phone and contemplated calling his sister now as Jen tip toed her way up the stairs. About 20 minutes passed before Jen made her way back down stairs. Her careful footsteps drew his attention to a sight he had not expected. Granted, he knew nothing about Terran fashion, but it was even obvious to him that a floral print sundress was not something Jennifer Simmons would typically wear. He had to admit though despite it being a little long on her, the amount of leg it showed, her tribal tattooed arms and bare clavicle showing, it was rather attractive. Especially with the pair of combat boots she sported on her feet.

She caught him obviously staring, “you like it?” She smirked evilly as she modestly raised part of the skirt to reveal a holster strapped to her lower thigh and a pair of knives on either side of it. She gave him a wink as he turned red from embarrassment, unable to answer. “I’ll be back. If she wakes up let her know that I’m getting rid of the truck.”

Torvil nodded, “be careful and be swift.” Her smirk grew into a grin. She was curious if the Eskarii was actually concerned for her safety.

“Awe, are you worried about me?” she teased.

It was his turn to smirk as gave her another once over with his eyes, “of course. It would be a shame to lose such a powerful woman to the likes of your Federation.” His words were matter of fact with a hint of interest. Her response was to stick her tongue out at him as she put on a pair of sunglasses, bottle in one hand and keys in the other.

ΩΩΩ

Mo'Emori rapidly tapped away on her keyboard as she sorted through files the CoU had sent her. Dr. Yuma had a client with him in his office and there was only one other person in the waiting area near the entrance which gave her enough time and privacy to do her primary duties, which was deciphering intel stolen from the Federation, recruiting people to the CoU’s cause as well as logistics for smuggling people into and out of the country. One would not think a therapist’s office would make a poor staging ground for recruitment however, a lot of Terrans get screwed over by the Federation and need someone they can confidentially vent to. Dr. Yuma’s expertise in the Terran mind and charismatic approach to individual problems helps him seed the option of defecting and living a much better life than they live here; Mo’Emori was the one who made it happen.

Mo’Emori knew he intended on doing the same for Morrigan, though rather giving her an escape, he would have given her the opportunity of what she would have considered a higher purpose. Morrigan saw the Eskarii the same way Mo’Emori saw Terrans; sure there were many Terrans who were forced to believe the Eskarii were the enemy but if the influence of the Federation happened to be taken out, Terrans could very much be considered a pleasant species. She loved how diverse and deep their cultures were and spent a lot of time reading of Terran history. Granted, Terrans were more similar to the Saurian in most respects, but the adaptability, ingenuity and ever-changing mentality of the species was remarkable to her.

Thinking about her endearment for the Terrans made her miss Morrigan. Out of every client and every Terran she met, Morrigan was by far the one she cherished most. The young girl was so full of life; the way she made Mo’Emori laugh by silly antics, her timidity coupled with her fierce soul made her a force to be reckoned with whether it be in friendship or conflict, and her undeniable sense of wonder was what made Morrigan stand out for her. Her thoughts had fully succumbed to the visage of the green eyed Terran before being yanked away by the startle of a phone ringing.

She glanced at the phone on her desk waiting for it to note who was calling. After ringing twice more, she realized it was from her personal phone. Curious as to who would be calling her directly, she reached into her bag and grabbed the phone that lay next to a Terran handgun hidden inside. Yuma insisted she carry a weapon with her at all times despite being in a noncombat role. She knew being an Eskarii made her an easy target in the streets of the Federation, not that she had to truly worry for her safety.

The number that came up on her phone was not a number she recognized. Though it was not unusual for field operatives to call her from unknown numbers, the issue was that it was a Colorado number. The last known operative was Drusille and she was ordered to Virginia the day before yesterday. Her confusion dragged on too long and she ended up missing the call however, whoever it was called back immediately. This time she answered right away.

“Hello?”

“It's not nice to ignore a phone call from your brother,” came the response in fluid Eskarii.

She furrowed her brow in further confusion. “Which brother?” She asked in her native tongue. Keeping her voice down in the presence of a waiting client.

“Torvil, dear sister.”

Her eyes widened. If this was true, then that meant something terrible has happened. “Why are you calling me? Why are you not on your way to Gelia? What happened?!” She demanded, her voice slowly rising in concern and anger.

“The mission failed, we were shot out of the sky by Federation fighters… I failed…” Torvil replied, shame seeping through.

Worry and anger surged through her, unable to contain herself, her voice rose, “is she okay? Where is she you stupid bastard? Put her on the phone right now!”

Torvil sighed, “yes my loving sister I am fine, only a fractured leg and broken ribs,”

She pulled away from the phone and glared at it, as if her menace would radiate to him by sheer willpower. “That will be the least of your concerns if she is injured. Mother will have your skull as a chalice by the time I'm done with you! Now put her on the phone!” she growled into the phone before returning it to her ear.

“Mo'Emori, she's alive—”

“Thank the goddesses.” She interjected.

“—however… she's been taken…” he said cautiously.

“What?!” she shouted as she leapt up from her chair. Torvil sighed and paused, giving his sister precious seconds to get her emotions in control. Mo’Emori looked up to find the waiting client staring at her with wide eyes.

“I need the CoU to find out where they took her. My dear sister, you are the key to finding her. Alert the Sybrydian if you must and flourish my failure but I must get her back. Call mother if you have to I don’t care. I will fix this.”

Mo'Emori looked around her desk frantically trying to decide what to do. Her anger shifted amorphously into panicked worry.

“Hold on.” She said before dropping her phone onto her desk and closing out of everything on her computer. Once everything was closed she locked it as she grabbed her phone and stormed down the hallway to her left. Their new office had several rooms designed to have multiple therapists however the CoU funded the entire building for just Yuma.

Once she reached the third door in, she took a deep breath and knocked rapidly. It was a code she and Yuma agreed upon if something urgent came up. Her worry overrode protocol and she turned the handle opening the door. Inside she found Dr. Yuma sitting across from an older woman. The woman was wiping her nose with a tissue bleakly. “I am sorry to interrupt Dr. Yuma, but there is a matter of emergency that requires your attention,” she said trying to hide her anxiety under a thick layer of professionalism.

Yuma was not fooled though, granted it was not the issue of her anxiety that gave it away but the fact she barged into the room without waiting for approval. He set his notebook closed in his lap before looking from his patient over to his receptionist, “what is the nature of the emergency?” he asked calmly. He studied his receptionist before she could reply; her breathing was rapid, her eyes wide and there was a slight tremble in her muscles.

“E.F.M.C.” she blurted out trying to keep control of her own emotions. It was code for the both of them. Built acronyms used to describe the situation without revealing its nature to ears listening in. This acronym was as dire of a situation as she presented it to be and also explained her lack of self control: Extraction Failed, Morrigan Clarke.

“I see…” he said out loud as his receptionist gently moved the phone in her hand to signify she was currently on an active phone call. He looked to his patient as he set his glasses down on the table, “I do apologize Mrs. Weathers, I need to step out for a moment and see to this matter. I will be back shortly.” He got up as his patient nodded.

“It's quite alright doctor, I need a moment to regain my thoughts anyhow,” the woman said as she gently patted her cheek with the tissue and sniffled. With that Dr. Yuma and Mo’Emori exited the room and went into a vacant room further down the hallway.

Once the door was closed, Mo’Emori held the phone up between the two of them. “Okay brawder I have Mr. Yuma with me.”

“Ah, good evening Yuma, I wish I brought good word,” Torvil said.

Yuma cocked an eyebrow at his receptionist before turning his attention back to the phone, “what's the situation?” Yuma knew she had brothers and sisters, but had not known any of her siblings were also working with the CoU.

“The Federation shot our ship out of the sky, the girl was taken and I need help finding where they took her.”

“How long ago was she taken?” Yuma asked. Torvil paused after sighing deeply.

“A matter of days? I’m not sure. My body went into stasis after the crash”-

“It has been about a week since the night she called me…” Mo'Emori informed him.

“Shit… then it has been about a week…”

Yuma could hear the wounds in Torvil’s words. Never having met him, Yuma had to guess that the Eskarii felt personally responsible for everything. Mo’Emori on the other hand looked like she was about to burst into tears. It was not like he did not want to help Morrigan, but rescuing someone from the Federations clutches was never easy and well outside his realm of expertise. Yuma rubbed his face and let out a steady breath as his receptionist chewed on her thumbnail nervously, her pleading eyes turning to him. “You do know it will take time to figure out where she’s being held, even with the help of the CoU. Heaven forbid she got moved off planet.”

“Yes, but I only need to know where she is. I will handle the rest. I have told my chwaeda to contact the Sybrydian as well.”

Yuma looked to the Eskarii woman with furrowed brows unsure how she would be able to get ahold of the special forces of Gelia. She scrunched her face in discomfort before sighing. “Torvil is a Sybrydian; as well as the rest of my siblings… including myself.” Yuma gave her a look of disbelieving surprise.

“You’re special forces?” he asked.

She nodded sheepishly, “yes, Intelligence. Torvil is part of Infiltration.” Yuma found it hard to believe that this joyous, carefree and endearing young woman was a highly trained operative of the Eskarii’s version of Spec Ops. He could not help but chuckle as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“That would have been good to know. I would have spent less time worrying about your daily well being every time you left the office.” He cleared his throat and regained his composure, “anyways, we will do what we can to find Miss Clarke. I don't know how long it will take but we will let you know immediately when we do.”

“Good, though there is something else that I am unsure if you will be able to help with…”

“What’s that?” Yuma asked.

“Morrigan's patriarch has been arrested along with his commanding officer for aiding the young swyn’wyr and myself. They also hunt another of his team.”

“Swyn’wyr? Ti wyt chi'n syr'ad am?” Mo’Emori demanded in shock which confused Yuma since he did not understand the Eskarii language.

“Umm what am I missing?” Yuma interjected.

Mo’Emori growled as she looked at her boss, “Torvil claims Mori is a swyn’wyr. A mage, by Terran definition.”

Torvil was quick to defend his bold statement, “it is truth. Her abilities are strange and unique. Like crimson electricity that she can form into claws that are the sharpest of knives. She tears through armor like it is nothing. She also heals at an incredible rate.”

“You swear upon our mother and the goddesses?” Mo’Emori demanded.

“I do.” He stated firmly knowing she would believe him.

She could not help but chuckle while Yuma shook his head in disbelief. “My Mori is just full of surprises,” she said in amused astonishment.

“Yes, which is why she needs to be found sooner than later. I fear if the Federation learns of her abilities… she will be in more trouble than she already is.”

Setting aside all of the unreal developments, Yuma brought himself back into his usual professionalism. “Yes I concur. We will get on this right away. As soon as we figure something out we will let you know. Where are you currently?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Mo’Emori could not help but smile at the revelations made. She did not understand the meaning of it all however, her assessment of Morrigan proved to be more truthful than she suspected. Morrigan truly was a special Terran. Between being a unique mage and having headstrong feelings about the sociopolitical respect of the Eskarii, she would do many wonderful things for both races once she was free from the Federation.

“I am with Matriarch Clarke. Though it won’t safe here forever.”

“Do you think you can convince Mrs. Clarke to defect to the CoU? We could set up a safe house for the two of you and work on smuggling you into CoU territory.”

Mo'Emori chimed in at that, “I don’t think that will be easy… the reports I’ve been reading are saying that the Federation are going to be making a push into CoU territory. With the increased conflict, it will make insertion more complicated at the least.”

Torvil winced into the phone. For the first time, Mo’Emori looked at the phone in genuine concern. “The priority is Morrigan. Everything else is secondary. If she is still in Federation territory then I will not leave until I have rescued her. In the meantime, I will speak with her matriarch and Lady Simmons, the one who is hunted as well.”

Before anyone replied Torvil hung up. Mo’Emori and Yuma looked at each other in concern and determination. “Who is here for an appointment?” he asked.

“Caroline Fitzgerald, she is your next client and the one following isn’t for a few more hours.”

Yuma rubbed his chin in thought and checked his watch. “Alright, cancel any appointment after Caroline. We have a lot of work to do.”

She nodded sternly before exiting the room and making her way back into the waiting area. Torvil may have been onto something, if she got moved off world as Dr. Yuma had mentioned, they would need more help than just the CoU.

ΩΩΩ

Torvil spent an hour relaxing after hanging up on his sister and the doctor. The call went better than he had expected though he still worried about facing his sister’s wrath. She may work for the Intelligence division for the queen, but she was still one of the most talented fighters in the Sybrydian as well as one of the most ruthless. It seemed pathetic for him to fear his younger sister, nearly dishonorably so. Except her prowess in combat had proven such fears time and time again in training. No one dared questioned Mo’Emori’s skill and vigor. Thankfully, she chose Intelligence instead of Infiltration or Frontlines. Granted he doubted he would have to worry about her as little as he did already, but if she had chosen elsewise, she would be his superior and he would have to report to her directly.

His thoughts and planning overcame the dull throb of his leg which was relief despite the desperation of the situation. It was not until the front door opened an hour later that the full extent of his injuries settled in again. He looked quickly to see Helen still passed out on the couch having curled into the fetal position covered in the blanket Simmons had given her. Defensively shifting his line of sight, he caught the floral print sundress worn by Jennifer.

“That was quick,” he noted quietly as he checked the clock on the wall. Jen quietly closed the front door, a big grin marking her face as she gently strode into the living room and sat on the arm of the sofa.

“Everything okay here?” she asked. Her voice carried a hint of satisfaction as she looked from Helen to Torvil.

“Yes, I spoke to my sister as well. She will be searching for our ‘Little Clarke’ as you say.”

Jen’s grin widened at that and gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder. “Well look at you learning and such.” He snorted in response, a small smile cracking his stoic demeanor.

“I take it your mission is complete?” he asked with a modicum of curiosity.

Jen simply shrugged as she threw and arm around his neck in a playful hug to whisper in his ear, “oh, it has been a life long dream of mine to commit arson.”

Torvil smirked at the notion, “do tell.”