The next day, they were all taken to and evaluated by the Chief Scientist, the faux-elf, Dr. Sylvie Rosette. Just like Henderson said, she was a fairly attractive Unimus, with pointed ears and a white lab coat draped over the nanofiber armoring everyone wore since the war began. But Hunter had to agree with Mareel, that it didn’t feel flattering that the karking robot was examining them all like they were new discoveries of bacteria under a microscope instead of as people.

     That’s the first part of war, isn’t it? You have to demonize the enemy, so that killing them gets more tempting, makes sleeping that night just a little bit easier, and replace the repercussions with rewards that encourage the behavior.

     Just how many soldiers and civilians has Dr. Rosette killed already?

     “Mmm, very nice,” She exclaimed while taking notes on Henderson. “I think you might be my favorite, so far soldier.”

     The private blushed, and a smile started to creep onto his face. “Happy to help.” He said nervously. “Anything I should know about, doc?”

     Sylvie scrutinized her readings for a moment, then gestured for another soldier to sit on the table. “Private, do you have anyone waiting for you at home?” She said suddenly, moving towards the human.

     Henderson’s face went redder. “Well, at first,” He stammered, struggling to maintain eye contact with his captor. “But she went and found her own woman while I was fighting.”

     “Mmm, poor thing,” Sylvie cooed, walking two fingers up his chest. “Here, let me make it all better.”

     Before anyone could stop it, the Unimus pulled out a scalpel and slit Private Henderson’s throat. Blood spurted from the wound, coating the mad doctor in her true colors as she giggled and resumed taking notes. Henderson tried and failed to stop the bleeding, falling to the ground. He reached out towards his comrades, who could only look on in horror, gurgling for help.

     “You… you killed Henderson, you bitch!” Powers stammered, visibly shakened.

     “What was that for! He ain’t done nothing!” Mareel snarled.

     Within moments, the guttural sounds being made grew quiet, and Private Anthony Henderson fell still.

     Sylvie sniffed the blood on her, then tentatively licked the blade of her scalpel. “I’m calling it mercy,” She reasoned, producing a handkerchief to clean herself and the instrument. Hunter grimaced at her rationale. “He wouldn’t have survived the tests we have planned. So I spared him from the misery.”

     Just as Hunter was about to say something, a knock came at the door before opening. An elf child waltzed right in, a stormy expression on her face as she observed the death with startling disconnection. She had the same look in her eyes as her mother, Hunter realized. She was more curious about bringing the insides of others to the outsides than speaking with them.

     “Mommy, you started without me!” the girl whined, putting her hands on her hips.

     Doctor Rosette grew pale as her eyes went large. Tears threatened to spill out as she realized her mistake. Sylvie fell down to her daughter’s level, embracing her. “Oh, you’re right, sweetie!” She bawled. “I guess I got carried away with the work I was assigned. Can you forgive me?”

     “What the hell?” Sloane asked.

     The doctor continued to gush over her miniature doppelganger, until she realized there was company present and stood back up, blushing as she coughed into a fist. “Soldiers, you remember my daughter from the mess hall, yes?” Doctor Rosette said with perhaps the most genuine display of warmth. “She just started expressing an interest in science, and will be my assistant for some of the procedures.”

     “Hello again!~” her little girl boomed. She stayed still long enough for the greeting before zooming over to the corner and producing a mop to clean up Henderson’s blood off the tile. “All this came from someone?” She asked in awe. “Wow!”

     “Isn’t she just adorable?” the Unimus cooed.

     “Uh, yeah.” Sloane said with some hesitation as Hunter and the rest shifted uneasily on their feet. Even Powers didn’t have any snarky comeback.

     Thankfully, Doctor Rosette’s inspection of the rest of the squad didn’t merit any fatal consequences either, and she shooed them all away. Unfortunately, the overseer demanded an audience with the entire prison in attendance.

     “Take a good long look, maggots.” Ascee announced with particular relish. “Notice anything different?”

     Hunter glanced around, just as everyone else was. The answer was obvious, and his heart sank.

     “That’s right!” The overseer exclaimed. He pulled out ten soldiers, all battered and bloody, some looking ashamed of themselves while two were staring defiantly, daring the world to judge them for the impossible decisions they were forced to make. Among them, Jenkins stood, as if unsure of his own place in the hierarchy. “We have ourselves ten brave souls who slaughtered their teammates. And as such, will be allowed to go home!”

     Blam! Blam! Blam! Blamblamblamblamblamblamblam!!!

     “In body bags.” Ascee amended, blowing the smoke from his gamma gun. Ten bodies fell to the floor, the indescribable joy they originally felt replaced with solemn stillness as the Shepherd Queen guided their spirits home.

     The rage Hunter felt emanated from every soul in attendance was almost palpable. He was confident that if they had been capable of doing so, the entirety of them would have seized the overseer and tore him limb from limb.

     Unimus soldiers appeared to remove the corpses from the ground. “Let there be no misunderstanding,” The overseer growled. “The only way out is through the incinerator.”

     “Wait, let us bury them!” One of the soldiers begged. A few others murmured their assent with the first.

     Ascee raised an eyebrow. “And why should I allow that?” He asked, barely giving a karck.

     The soldier hesitated, and Mareel stepped forward on his behalf. “Those men and women were members of my church. At least give us the decency of burying them according to our traditions.” Several others joined their voices in agreement.

     A mirthless smile graced the overseer’s face. He waved away the soldiers who were carrying Jenkins and one of the other casualties, but allowed the other bodies to be dragged out. “Very well, I can respect a religious man,” Ascee laughed. “You can have these two. Speak with Doctor Rosette about anything you might need for your traditional burial.” He left, leaving the soldiers with their dead.

     “Poor private Malone,” someone muttered. “Poor Jenkins.”

     “Knew Jenkins in Basic. Always had a smile. Ticked off the Drill Instructor every time with it.”

     “Malone would always split his rations with me.”

     “May Ah’qutros have mercy on them.”

     As a circle formed around the two deceased soldiers, Mareel pulled Hunter aside. “Would you speak with the doctor?” He asked.

     Hunter complied, and Mareel listed off the things they needed.

     “Oh, I’ve already looked at you,” Sylvie Rosette said in surprise. Next to her at the operating table, her daughter was trying and failing to reach the prisoner strapped in with her mother’s scalpel. Doctor Rosette pulled a stool out from a corner and plopped her daughter on top of it. “What are you doing back here?”

     “Thanks mommy!”

     “Anytime, sweetie.”

     “Overseer killed some prisoners,” Hunter replied tersely. He wanted to say as little as possible to the Unimus. “Said we could perform a funeral for two of them and you’d be able to procure anything we needed for their service.”

     “Ah, that’ll do it.” Sylvie frowned, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her fingers as she let out a sigh. “That man will take any excuse to kill someone.” She opened up a door, revealing a walk in closet of all sorts of things that didn’t belong in a prison.

     “This is my personal collection of knick knacks I’ve accumulated since the war began from prisoners,” She said, beckoning me over. “Who were the unlucky souls and what was their faith?”

     “Jenkins and Malone, both Brotherhood of the Deep.”

     Doctor Rosette pulled out a digital roster of the prison’s inmates, then frowned as the came to their names. “Interesting,” She murmured. “It says here that their respective denominations have denounced one another. Were they very devout, soldier?”

     “I would presume so.”

     “Fascinating. I may have to attend the service. How will they reconcile this contradiction?”

     Hunter felt prompted to ask, “What contradiction?”

     She adjusted the roster so he could see it. She had both Jenkins and Malone’s entries highlighted and next to each other. It read:

 

 

Name: Private Alan Jenkins.

Species: Human Male, 28 years old.

Ethnicity: Caucu-Zul Human.

Nationality: Citizen of the Republic of Oros by way of the Orodin Province.

Special Notes: Family are 7th Generation converts to the Manchester Chapter of the Brotherhood of the Deep.*

*The Manchester Chapter of the Brotherhood of the Deep was organized in the waning years of the Fourth Era when Father Anderson’s teachings of the Ocean God drew criticism by Father Orin. These differences became irreconcilable and led to the two excommunicating one another. Father Orin then went on to found the Manchester Chapter of the Brotherhood of the Deep.





Name: Private Andrew “Skinny” Malone.

Species: Human Male, 30.

Ethnicity: Caucus-Oro Human.

Nationality: Citizen of the Republic of Oros by way of the Moar Province.

Special Notes: While in Basic, Malone was converted to Father Anderson’s Kipu Chapter of the Brotherhood of the Deep, following the schism between Anderson and Orin.

     Hunter shrugged, handing back the roster. “I don’t see what the problem is.” He started rummaging through the closet and quickly found the things he needed.

     His doctor sighed like she expected better of him. “It means one of them is wrong, soldier.” She said like it was obvious. “How can they both legitimately claim to worship the Ocean’s Ire if they cannot even agree on the doctrines laid out by their deity?”

     “You’re asking the wrong Cait.”

     “Not religious or you just don’t care for the conversation?”

     “Pick one.”

     “Hmm, you are a joy to puzzle over,” Sylvie said fondly. “Honey, I’m going to be attending the soldier’s funeral. Do you remember what to do with our patient?”

     “I get to inject him with the needle full of hormones and see how horny he gets before it kills him!” Her little clone squealed in delight.

     “Very good! Lock the door after we leave. I love you!”

     The door closed on them and Sylvie sighed contently. “We’re measuring how much testosterone a Cait Sith can handle outside Heat Week,” She explained casually. From the way she was talking, they could have been long lost friends catching up. “Oh, right. Sorry, you’re part of the control group, so I won’t be pumping you with any.”

     “What are you doing?” Hunter demanded. “Stop it.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “You’re acting like you haven’t been chopping us up with your knife for science,” He elaborated. “And what kind of parent would bring their daughter to a prison?”

     The knife was pressed against his throat before he even finished speaking. Sylvie’s eyes narrowed. “The kind who loves her daughter and would do anything to make sure she wouldn’t suffer in a conflict as deadly as this. Many parents have failed their children in this war. Don’t presume that I am not doing everything in my power to keep my little girl’s smile alive and well.”

     It took every ounce of self control for Hunter to not defend himself. He knew Sylvie needed much more provocation than a light jab to risk his own life. But knowing what buttons pushed her could prove invaluable later on. And, he felt like he owed it to the unit after what the Unimus did to Henderson.

     Sylvie kept the knife pressed against his neck for only a few moments longer before her friendly demeanor returned. “Children really are a wonderful thing,” She chirped, pocketing the knife. “I hope you live long enough to see that for yourself, soldier.

     “But that’s for the future. And now is the funeral.”

     There was some unrest when Hunter had arrived with Doctor Rosette in tow, but no harm came to her, or any of the curious Unimus soldiers who arrived as the service started to also pay tribute to the fallen. Jasper Mareel gave the eulogy, and a mixture of religious hymns and war songs were sung in conclusion of the service. The funeral came and went in a blur, almost like it was a dream.

 

*     *     *

     Ugh… where am I?

     Everything had gone fuzzy. Hunter remembered joining his teammates, and almost as quickly, his memory failed him. An uncomfortable pain surged through his side, and when he tried to adjust himself, found his body completely bound. Confusion quickly gave way to panic, erasing the vestiges of sleep from his system as he discovered he was strapped down to an operating table.

     Hunter craned his neck. His teammates were likewise immobilized upon tables, each of them with a random limb bandaged. He looked back at his own, and was horrified that his right arm was bandaged, and throbbing with the pain he felt just moments ago.

     What is this? What’s happening?

     “Mommy, the bird man is awake!” A voice cried out from the darkness.

     Lights boomed to life, blinding Hunter and forcing him to squint his eyes. Through the pain, he managed to discern the silhouette of the faux-elf Sylvie Rosette taking notes at a computer as her daughter was inspecting her incapacitated soldiers. Doctor Rosette glanced towards Hunter and smiled warmly.

     “Ah, so he is!” She beamed.

     “What did you do to me?” Hunter demanded. His voice was hoarse, and his question came out as a pathetic whisper instead of the exclamation he attempted. “What the hell is going on?”

     Doctor Rosette clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Please watch your language, there are children present,” She asked.

     “What is hell?” Sylvia Rose asked, chewing on the word.

     “I’ll tell you in a moment, dear.” Her mother responded. “Can’t you guess, soldier? It’s my latest experiment. You waking up is very promising, I’m looking forward to the rest of your team regaining their faculties.

     “Honey, would you be so kind as to remove Hunter’s bandages?” She went on. “I’m sure that will answer some of his concerns.”

     As her daughter dutifully approached Hunter, the Avis Sith began struggling harder to escape his bonds. The pain in his bandaged arm began to increase, almost as if with a will of its own. She had drugged him and his team, he realized, perhaps almost immediately following the funeral. How long had they been out? Just what did she do to his arm?

     “Snip snip snip!” the little girl sang as she began to cut away the bindings. The arm looked pale, much paler than his own skin color. Hunter’s eyes turned to pin pricks as he noticed stitching halfway around his bicep, and a stark difference in coloration on the skin between the threads.

     No… no,no no no…!

     “The funeral gave me the idea, actually,” Doctor Rosette admitted, looking quite pleased with herself. “The soldiers who died, for those who knew them, a part of them died as well. So I decided to give you all a constant reminder of your own fallen teammate, that way you can always be together forever. ”

     “No no no no please no!”

     The others began to stir, rustled awake by Hunter’s increasingly distressed voice. A sound began to drown out his ears, and a veil fell over his vision. Everything was turning red, and he realized with revulsion, fear and disgust that Private Anthony Henderson’s arm had replaced one of his own. His, no, Henderson’s fingers clenched into the palm of his hand, deep enough to draw blood. His mind recoiled, stuck between refusing to acknowledge the sick reality he had found himself in and the tenuous grasp on reality his psyche was holding onto.

     Soon, the screams of Mareel, Power, and Sloane joined his, and the horror of the situation cracked their throats and silenced their mouths in uncomfortable silence. All as a mother and her child watched and smiled at their suffering.

     Never before had Hunter felt such hatred. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to take her knife and slice into her just as she had to all of them. But it was all for naught, as Unimus soldiers entered the laboratory, gagging them all and wheeling the four of them back to their cell block.

     Despite being long gone, all Hunter could see was Sylvie’s face, the hunger for knowledge lurking behind her cold dead eyes. The same darkness in her daughter’s eyes, and their amused smile as he and his teammates were violated. He had erroneously thought she was friendly. But Doctor Rosette was just as cold blooded as Overseer Ascee. The only difference was that the Overseer made no attempt to hide his evil.

     As their restraints came loose, Hunter saw the same haunted look in the eyes of his teammates reflected in his own. Anthony Henderson, the first to die among them, now living once more between them all.

     He wasn’t sure who succumbed to tears first, but all of them joined together in this moment of trauma and connection. Each other a rock of sanity in this dark world they had woken up in. None could speak. And yet, Hunter wished someone would. He would even be happy for a joke from Powers. But all they had was pain.

     This war brought them here, Overseer Ascee put them together, but it was Doctor Rosette that hurt them like this. Cut them up and put them back together, broken yet whole.

     Somewhere in the chaos of pain, Hunter resolved to never let his guard down around her again.