Atlas had announced a
successful excavation which meant the inmates got to eat. After a guard went up
the freight elevator, the same guard came down with a barrel of the inmates’
dinner for someone to heat up. The inmate who did the cooking was a man of
large girth dubbed Tank. Morrigan could not understand how a man could be as
large as him while working down in the tunnels but she did not judge. At six
foot six and over 300 pounds, the man was one of the kindest inmates in the
warren.

Morrigan stood in line for
what could only be described as a giant cauldron, as Tank heated their slop of
a meal up. With a large scoop of his ladle, Tank poured Morrigan’s wooden bowl
to the brim and handed her the small packet of crackers they were given. Before
she could move he reached forward and stuck a piece of dried Scissor bug meat
into the slop and gave her a wink.

Tank did not speak, whether
because he was a mute or if something that happened in his past life she did
not know. She gave him a tight smile, still grossed out by the prisoners’ love
of the insect meat but she could not deny that in comparison to their other
options, it was good. “Thanks Tank,” she said before stepping back to find her
place to eat. Tank gave her a kind smile and clapped his hand to his chest in
his own way of saying ‘you’re welcome’.

Morrigan moseyed around the
‘common area' of the central warren. The central warren was essentially one
massive cave that intersected all the various tunnels and was used as a congregation
spot as well as the dumping point for the Viridian hauls. Throughout the area
inmates lounged around as they ate or found themselves sitting at one of the
few cheap plastic tables where they could gamble away their accrued goods.

Morrigan found two inmates
sitting at one of the gambling tables, possibly the only two inmates she could
consider friends, roaring with laughter over a joke she did not hear. One was
an older black man named Henry who had to be within his mid to late 50s. The
center of his head having lost its hair leaving salt and pepper curly hair
trailing up the sides and back of his head. The other was another inmate
everyone called Pops, who was even older than Henry. He was Morrigan’s size to
her surprise and had a large, dirty bushy beard the length of his torso and a
charming southern drawl. The two men were essentially best of friends and
welcomed Morrigan into their fold without rhyme nor reason other than being
overly kind gentlemen within a penal mining colony.

“Well look who it tis, our
own lil’ bundle o’ sunshine,” Pops called out as Morrigan set her bowl on the
table and took her seat in one of the flimsy plastic chairs. She could not help
but smile at the old man's cheerful demeanor.

Henry chuckled as he slapped
a set of playing cards down on the table, “Pops, there ain’t nothin shiny about
her I mean look at the poor lady.” He took a moment before nudging her arm,
“now don’t get me wrong, yer a peach to have around but we live in a mine.
Ain’t no sunshine down here at all,” he said giving her a kind, joking smile.

And here we have two pervy
geezers stalking their prey, but little did they know, that the meek little
girl was actually a bloody thirsty creature spawned from the recesses of their
darkest nightmares, Apollyon joked as if it were narrating a nature
documentary.

Morrigan smirked at the
commentary, shifting to reach for the hardtack she had stored against her
chest. Pops cackled before glancing between his empty bowl and her overfilled
bowl of food. “Don’tcha be tryin’ to be charmin the young missy ya hear?” he
drawled as his hand slowly slide closer to the small package of crackers that sat
next to her bowl.

She noticed his antics and
gave his hand a playful slap. “Oh dammit! I was so close too!” he howled in
laughter as he retracted his hand.

She cracked a smile, “you
guys are nuts you know that?” she chuckled as she pulled the package out of her
shirt. Henry leaned back in laughter at the playful display before he tossed a
card into the pile.

“To be fair, yous kind of
has to be to survive down here, but what the hell you tryin to steal from Mori
anyhow old man?” Henry asked pointedly at Pops as if he had committed a
grievous crime.

As Morrigan unwrapped part
of the hardtack she found to thick sheets of dense bread, kind of like a thick
biscuit or cookie and snapped off a small piece. She gave it a sniff as she
listened to her friends' banter back and forth. The hardtack did not smell like
much, and as she stuck the small piece in her mouth she was greeted with a buttery
taste that reminded her of heaven. She broke of a quarter of one of the squares
before wrapping it back up and stuffing it back into her shirt. That was
definitely something she was going to have to savor.

Henry took notice of what
she was doing, asking curiously, “whatcha got there Mori?”

As she savored the flavor of
her initial bite, she swallowed the dissolving piece of bread, “hardtack I got
from Atlas,” she said. Her hand gently covered the chunk as she grabbed her
wooden spoon and stuck it into the concoction of grey pasty grain and
flavorless protein in her bowl. It was the only main food the prisoners
received and it was as appealing as it was flavorful. Morrigan eyed the dried
piece of bug meat and pinched it with her fingers and lifted it out of the slop
to set on top of her package of crackers.

Both Henry and Pops watched
her before giving each other looks of disbelief. “Now how did you manage to get
hardtack from Atlas?” Henry asked. Meanwhile Pops eyed the strip of bug meat
like a starved dog.

Morrigan chuckles as she
shoved a spoonful of her dish into her mouth, “it was his way to convince me
stop antagonizing Taskmaster Jared,” she explained with her mouth full, a smile
creeping up on her face.

“Damn woman. Hardtack, extra
slop an bug meat, you jus’ got everyone wrapped aroun’ those fingers of yers
don’cha?”

You know, back in my day, we
called that prostitution, but the young whipper-snappers call it bribery
nowadays, Apollyon said in an over-forced, strained tone to mimic old age at
the same time Henry spoke.

She clasped her hand over
her mouth as she nearly choked and proceeded to pound her fist into her chest.
As her food finally made its way down she chuckled before lifting another
spoonful to her mouth. “If that were the case, I would’ve found a way to escape
this fucking place,” she stated humorlessly before eating more. She spied Pops
hounding the piece of meat she set aside which made her laugh slightly. “You
can have it Pops,” she mused.

Pops demeanor shifted
joyously as he did a little excited old man dance in his chair, “Hee! Hee! You
sure are a darlin’!” he exclaimed before enthusiastically grabbing the chunk of
meat and sticking it in his mouth, his decaying teeth pulling the stiff cream
colored meat apart.

Henry and Morrigan shook
their heads as the old man groaned in delight. As he finished the piece he bit
off, he inspected it thoughtfully, “ya know, kinda reminds me o’ crab meat.
Especially when ol’ Tank goes an dries it.” Pops smacked his lips as he stuck
the rest in his mouth, “savory… wit a bit o’ flakiness!” he announced as he
chewed.

Morrigan could not fight the
gag that formed in her throat. She dropped the spoon in her bowl and shook her
head, “old man that is just wrong. Its bad enough I have to eat the flavorless
shit in the bowl but you can’t go comparing bug to crab!” she groaned as she
nudged the bowl away in disgust.

Henry laughed heartily while
Pops eyed the bowl, leaning to scoop it up for himself only to have Morrigan
recover from her disgust to crack him in the knuckle with the wooden spoon.
“Nuh uh! Not after the crab comment,” Morrigan glared as Pops yelped and sucked
on the offended knuckle.

As she pulled the half eaten
bowl back Henry began shuffling the deck of cards, “you gettin’ in on the game
Mori?” he asked.

She eyed the potential
prizes they had sitting on the table. There was a match book which piqued her
interest, a granola bar, some kind of rubber film used to do light exercises
with, and several packs of crackers. “Yeah, deal me in,” she said before shoveling
down the rest of the bland goop, set the bowl aside and shoved the chunk of
hardtack in her mouth. She smiled devilishly in amusement when she pulled out
her betting items which both men went wide eyed with greed, especially when she
broke off half a sheet of hardtack and set it on top of a half a pack of gum
and a clean roll of fabric. Their enthusiasm made winning that much sweeter for
Morrigan.

ΩΩΩ

There was a soft pop as
Helen pulled the cork from glass decanter of scotch. She watched the amber
liquid diligently as it poured smoothly into the glass that sat nearby; an
evening drink for a long day of work.

She worked diligently in the
office Dr. Yuma had set up for their group. After taking the time to blackout
the windows, sound proofing the room and setting up a dedicated system
connected to the CoU, Helen felt a lot more useful and content despite the
overwhelming stress of their situation had become.

After months of searching
and sifting through any information the CoU could give them as well as putting
her work experience to use in the effort to help the CoU, the location of her
husband James had been uncovered.

The bad thing about
discovering that information was learning he had been sentenced to 22 years in
a Federation run penal foundry on Mars. They had no chance at leaving Earth,
making it to a Federation controlled planet like Mars and much less breaking
into a federal prison; the realization tore Helen apart inside.

Things were not entirely
woeful though. Mo’Emori had become the pinnacle of joy around the office. Every
minute of free time she had she spent with their group, ecstatic to have her
brother so close to her as well as her brother’s “special friend”.

From what Helen had gleaned,
Torvil and Mo’Emori had not seen each other in well over a decade since she
worked with the CoU and Torvil was a master infiltrator for their Sybrydian;
which was the Eskarii equivalent of Terran Black Ops. This causes Torvil to be
away from his family for extensive periods of time. It turned out to be pure
happenstance that Mo’Emori was able to get in touch with Torvil in time to
attempt to rescue Morrigan from the high school.

Even with Mo’Emori’s
enthusiasm to annoy her older brother, she and Helen spent a great deal of time
together. Nearly every day Mo’Emori spent hours in the hotel penthouse the CoU
paid for. It was mainly for Helen, seeing as Jen and Torvil had spent the last
six months becoming smugglers for the CoU.

Mo’Emori seemed to take her
initial comment to heart and really drive home the idea that they were now
family. In truth, Helen found the notion endearing and sweet of the Eskarii
girl but also had come to realize that Mo’Emori had made herself an integral
part of her life. As it turned out, whenever Mo’Emori called her Mem, she had been
calling her mother.

Helen could not help but
smile every time she heard her say it now, though it took two months of
annoying Torvil to pry out the translation.

Helen recorked the decanter
before stepping away from the kitchen island and comfortably sprawling out on
the sofa in the living room. The sofa was beautiful light brown suede leather
which was heaven to her exhausted mind.

The burn of the scotch
settled in her throat as she thought about the Eskarii siblings’ dynamic, a
small smirk on her face. Torvil was the generic broody older brother while
Mo’Emori was the bubbly, energetic sister who loved nothing more than to get
underneath her older sibling’s skin.

Helen furrowed her brows at
another thought. What if her and James had given Morrigan a sibling? What
chaotic dynamic would they have? Knowing how Morrigan turned out, she was sure
it would’ve been a pair of hell raisers. Morrigan would have made sure of that.
The thought only made Helen’s heart hurt. She would give anything to hold her
baby girl in her arms and know that she was safe. Not knowing a single thing
about Morrigan’s well being was enough to drive her maternal instincts into a
violent, unhinged frenzy. Yet, Helen knew she had to restrain every ounce of
the chaos that was in her heart. She knew it would help no one if she got
herself arrested or killed by lashing out at the Federation.

There was a quick repeated
knock at the door of the penthouse that caused Helen’s spirit to lift a little.
It was the tell tale knock off her now pseudo-daughter. “Come on in sweetie!”
she called out as she set her glass on the end table beside the couch and sat
up straight to be more proper.

She heard the door open and
close quickly, but then there was nothing. The eerie silence started to set
Helen on edge as she leaned forward to try and catch any sort of sound that
would echo off the walls. A pair of arms pulled her back into the couch causing
her to yelp in panic. Helen’s anxiety began to subside as the iconic teal hair
came into her peripheral followed by the giggling she had become accustom to
hearing.

“Hi Mem!” Mo'Emori exclaimed
as she pulled Helen into a tight hug from behind the sofa and planting a firm
kiss on Helen’s cheek.

Helen could not help but
laugh as she patted one of the young Eskarii’s arms, “oh you brat, you scared
the hell out of me.” Which only made Mo’Emori giggle more before she released
her and fluidly slipped over the back of the sofa to land her head in Helen’s
lap. Helen snorted in amusement as she looked to find Mo’Emori batting her
eyelashes at her, her vibrant eyes staring up at her with a big grin on her
face. “You’re ridiculous,” Helen said as she pinched Mo’Emori’s cheek. “You’re
as bad as Mori you know?”

Mo’Emori beamed at that,
“How so?” she asked sweetly.

Helen smirked as she ran her
nails against the Eskarii’s scalp. She watched as Mo’Emori’s eyes fluttered and
let out a blissful sigh. “Mori loved messin’ with her parents as well as her
boyfriend.”

Mo’Emori snickered at that,
“I can imagine. Fy aarden me’ch is a mischievous one,” she said with the hint
of a blush as she fidgeted with her long hair.

Helen smiled warmly. She did
not know what she said but she knew it was something kind. “That she is. Always
has been ever since she was a little girl.” Helen reached for her drink and
took a small sip. “She was a wild child with a quick temper even before she got
arrested, after that though…”

Mo’Emori gave her a
pleasant, reassuring smile before lifting a tuft of her hair and placed it
between her nose and upper lip, giving herself an awkward teal mustache. Helen
giggled at her childishness and brushed her hand gently across Mo’Emori’s face.
They both laughed lightheartedly before a silence fell between them.

A sad smile brushed across
Mo’Emori’s face as she felt tears wanting to surface. “It was something she
did,” she stated softly.

Helen frowned at the switch
in demeanor, hearing the buried sadness within Mo’Emori’s words. “What do you
mean?” she asked.

Mo’Emori stuck the hair back
under her lip briefly before sighing, “the last day I saw Mori, she did that
with her hair… she always did silly things,” Helen watched Mo’Emori’s long
pointed ears subtly shift toward her shoulders, emphasizing the sadness she was
feeling. “It was so cute and silly though, Di’wiesau! She was so… it was a
piece of the sweetness in her heart. I have so many memories of silly Mori and
it just… I miss her.”

Helen listened to her voice
crack at the end of her melancholic reminiscing. She took her thumb and brushed
away the single stray tear the rolled down the side of the girl’s temple. She
gave her a soft smile as Mo’Emori looked up at her with tear filled eyes and
brushed her hand up her forehead, her touch motherly. “Mori does cute things
when she's bashful, and you made her incredibly shy,” she said as she booped
her on the nose with her finger.

Mo’Emori could not keep from
smiling at that but her heart still mourned from the memories. “Don’t worry
though sweetie, we’ll find her,” Helen stated, keeping her own pain from her
words. “Until then, I want to know more about you,” she said as she grabbed
some of her teal hair and brushed the girl’s face with it.

This got Mo’Emori giggling
again. “What would my Mem like to know?” she teased.

“Well since I was going to
mention that Torvil and Jen are on their way back in the next day or two, how
about you tell me about your family? Torvil did mention that you have more
siblings but he wouldn’t talk about any of them except for you since we knew
you.”

Mo’Emori chuckled at her
brother’s closed shell and sat up, turning towards Helen as Helen took another
drink of scotch, “Well, including Torvil, I have ten siblings.” She watched
wide eyed as Helen choked on her drink and began violently coughing up scotch.

Helen grabbed at her chest
as she forcibly set the drink down trying to breath. “Holy hell!” she exclaimed
through a strained breath. “I could not imagine having that many kids!” she
enunciated before shifting into coughing laughter. Mo’Emori's anxiety quickly
faded when she realized her pseudo-mother was okay and even managed to chuckle
light heartedly.

“Yeah, most Eskarii only
have one maybe two children but I get to have many siblings,” she said
cheerily. “From oldest to youngest it goes my brawder Cheronn, my chwaede Sváv,
Jiala, and Saerah, my brawde Torvil, Lakai and his twin chwaeda Inati, then me,
then my chwaede Jae’rón and Tali.”

“Oh wow,” Helen stated.

“Yes, Tali, our youngest chwaeda,
had just turned 24 a few months ago!” Mo’Emori said joyously. It was endearing
to Helen with how happy Mo’Emori was when she spoke of her family.

That posed the next
question, “so, how old does that make you?” Helen asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Mo’Emori blushed and looked
away, “I will be 56 soon…”

“Oh geez!” Helen outraged as
her hand smacked against her forehead. Mo’Emori gave her a surprised look as
she saw Helen shaking her head into her hand.

“Have I said something wrong
Mem?” she asked wearily with a soft downward curve of her ears.

Helen peeked at her,
suddenly realizing Mo’Emori was upset and shook her head with an amused laugh,
“no sweetie, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just kind of weird that a girl
older than I am is calling me mother!”

Mo’Emori perked up as soon
as she was told she was not in trouble with her pseudo-mother and smiled
brightly with a tilt of her head, “well, how old are you?” she asked.

Helen huffed in faux
indignation, “I turned 43 at the beginning of the year…”

Mo’Emori hummed as she
looked towards the ceiling in concentrated thought. Helen noticed her touching
her fingertips together in calculation before she grinned. When her gaze fell
back to Helen she exclaimed, “you’re older than my Mem-eni­­!”

Befuddled, Helen furrowed
her brows and asked, “how is that?”

Mo’Emori bounced excitedly,
“well, if you think about it, if you take the average life span of an Eskarii
and the lifespan of a Terran and do the math, you would be nearly 269 in
Eskarii years! My Mem-eni is 244 years old now!” There was a long pause as
Helen stared at the adorably exuberant Eskarii and processed her bizarre logic
before busting out laughing.

“Oh, thanks hun! I don’t
know how I feel being considered 269 years old,” she sputtered before pulling
Mo’Emori into a tight hug that caused her to squeak. “Thanks though, I
definitely needed that,” she said placing her cheek on Mo’Emori’s head.

Mo’Emori preened and let out
a comfortable sigh before pulling back to sit up again.

“What about your father?”
Helen asked.

Mo’Emori’s face faltered
slightly as she turned towards the glass of scotch that sat on the coffee
table. She reached forward, grabbing the glass and took a small sip with a
disgusted grimace before setting it back down. She did not see Helen’s amused
smile at her as she reached for the strong liquor before she leaned back into
the couch and sighed.

“My Tad’a died soon after
Tali was born…” she said sullenly. It did not take much intuition for Helen to
figure out that Tad’a meant father.

“What happened?” she
inquired with a frown, hoping it was not a Terran related death.

Mo’Emori stared off into
space for a moment before clicking her tongue, “my Tad’a, he liked to hunt… as
do most Eskarii. For us it is a right of passage into becoming a warrior. All
of my chwaede and  brawde have performed
the hunt and made our Triss’unbré from our first hunts…” she paused to wipe her
nose as she sniffed, “he was hunting a Danthïr.”

Helen cocked her head
intently listening. Mo’Emori pulled her phone out and typed rapidly. Within a
minute, Mo’Emori held out the phone to show a picture of a creature that looked
like a large canine crossbred between an Earthly hyena and wolf. However, there
were noticeable differences by its twin long tails, and two sets of
tentacle-like appendages, two coming from its shoulders and one coming from
each side of its face. The other noticeable feature of the creature was its
large paws and long fangs that stuck out from its upper lip. Without asking she
flipped to another picture of the canine wreathed in electricity which caught
Helen by surprise.

“In your language it would
translate to ‘long fang’. They are strong, deadly creatures and highly prized
trophies to the Eskarii,” Mo’Emori continued as she pulled her phone back.
“When he was hunting, he thought he came across only one. However, when he
injured the creature, its mate came…” she said longingly shifting into a more
comfortable position against the other arm of the sofa.

“They look terrifying,”
Helen noted absently as she grabbed her drink and did the same.

Mo’Emori nodded, “Danthïr
are creatures that bond for life… there is no gender based strive for survival.
As far as the Eskarii have studied, they bond to other powerful Danthïr or even
other creatures with great power. After that, there is an almost… telekinetic I
think the word is, bond between the two beings. The Eskarii know little about
their mating habits since we have never been able to contain one long enough to
understand its habits much less two of them.”

“But what was with the
electricity around it?” Helen asked.

Mo’Emori smirked, “They
produce a powerful natural bioelectrical field. The feelers on their body are
used to control that field into a weapon to hunt prey, either stunning it or
killing it through electrical shock. It was what happened to my Tad’a… while
injuring the first one, the mate stunned him long enough to sink its fangs into
his shoulder and tear his arm off… he bled out almost instantly…” she said
sadly as she wiped the stray tear from her cheek.

Helen took the time to read
Mo’Emori’s body language before leaning forward and touching her ankle. When
she looked up Helen motioned for her to come to her which she quickly obliged.
Mo’Emori nestled into Helen’s side and chest as Helen wrapped her arm around
the girl. “I’m sorry your father passed away hun, though I’m glad you’re old
enough to have good memories of him, yes?”

Mo’Emori sniffled and
nodded. Helen took a sip of scotch and squeezed her a little tighter, “we have
wolves in Colorado,” Helen mentioned which caused Mo’Emori to look up at her. “A
few days before her graduation, Morrigan ended up fighting three wolves up in
the mountains after falling into a crevasse. That girl is beyond resilient to
fall from such a height and fight off wolves mere hours later,” Helen retold
the story fondly as Mo’Emori giggled, “of course she passed out like a rock
after the rescue crew found her. Even being found safe and sound, apparently
she mentioned the wolves as the paramedics took her to the hospital which just
had James and Taylor worrying more.”

At the mention of Taylor,
Mo’Emori shot up straight,
“Pah’sk! I completely forgot!”

Helen jerked up with her in
surprise, “what is it?” she questioned as Mo’Emori pulled out her phone again
and dug through it.

“One of our spies sent me
this a few hours ago. It was the main reason I came over!” she explained in
harsh embarrassment as she handed the phone over.

Helen took her phone with
increased interest. The first thing she saw was a terrible picture of a tall,
large, bearded man in grey and yellow marine armor standing in an open storage
area amongst a squad of marines. She could immediately tell it was Taylor
despite the terrible resolution. “Where did this come from?” she asked as she
began to read the report attached to the picture.

Mo’Emori ran her hand through
her hair before replying, “from one of CoU’s spies aboard the Federation
cruiser FSS Chevelle…”

Helen kept reading in lieu
of inquiring the implication of spies aboard Federation starships. “Shit…” she
muttered as she scrolled through the information.

“What is it?” Mo’Emori
inquired.

“This is worse than we
thought… far worse,” Helen breathed out. When she finished glossing through the
report, she gently set the phone on the couch as she shook with stress ladened
despair. “Taylor is no longer a conscript…” she stammered out trying to fight
the stress of the information she just obtained, recalling the phrase
‘transferred to DS-124 Havoc.’

Mo’Emori cocked her head in
confusion, “isn’t it good we know where he is? We can always send a strike team
to get him. Wait… what do you mean he’s not longer a conscript? What does that
mean? Isn’t that good?” she riddled off as Helen’s reaction had her own nerves
ramping up.

Helen shook her head, “no we
can’t… he’s been transferred to a Death Squad.”

“I don’t know what that is,”
Mo’Emori said with a shake of her head.

Helen let out a heavy sigh
and hung her head, “a Death Squad is a form of capital punishment within Federation
military. They’re essentially combining special forces with death row
sentences… you fight until you die… and if you try to leave, you’re killed, and
if you manage to escape, you’ll be killed on sight if found…”

There was another long pause
between both woman as the information sank in.

“Well, shit…” Mo’Emori
muttered, foregoing her own language for the gravity of the situation.