Chapter Updated

No Good Deed

By: Absolute Edge

Incident IV

Loss

- - - Sol-system Government's National Space Coalition battleship - Red Jackal

The Red Jackal danced a deadly ballet away from the hot guns of the Turian dreadnought. Massive rounds the size of a small shuttle screamed silently past the outgunned warship at break-neck speeds, the glowing hot projectiles passing so closely they briefly illuminated sections of the ship. The dreadnought's targeting arrays were slowly gaining accuracy as rounds began skimming mere meters from the Red Jackal's MS 'ZH' barrier, it shimmered as the automated defense pumped massive amounts of power to areas the dreadnought rounds passed before draining off as the computer realized it hadn't been hit. One round came within a meter of the barrier causing a static-like jolt of power to discharge from it as the computer threw an extensive volume of energy at the near miss. The static blast was relatively weak but was enough to kick the round off track by a few centimeters and continue on its unnoticeably adjusted course away from the Human warship.

"Shit that was close." Larson noted as he watched the screens.

"The barrier isn't that smart. If it keeps discharging on near misses it'll drain the capacitors. Hah, then we'll be relying on armor." Matheson said relaxing into his command throne.

"N'eil ae en'ei." A soft voice whispered from besides Larson.

He turned, stared at Naia, and turned the translator back on. "Come again?"

"We'll be fine." Naia repeated slowly, looking at the floor.

She'd figured out a few of Larson's ticks, to her benefit, and consciously acted upon them to avoid his... irritation. Averting her gaze when he looked at her and slightly bowing her head down and away seemed to keep Larson satisfied, just these small submissive behaviors that declare her unwilling fealty.

"Will we now? Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure a double tap from that capitol will see us dead." Larson said leaning on the hand railing.

"I can't comment on that, I don't know your ship specifications." Naia said simply, hugging Aeres close, "But an unfocused Turian is an inaccurate Turian."

"Maybe I should get some more of your friends up here and broadcast some live mutilations?" Larson asked offhandedly as the ship vibrated gently. "Keep them distracted?"

"Another near miss Commander." An ensign said from across the deck.

"Time?" Matheson demanded and looking to his comms officer.

"Sounds like Leviathan's out twenty-five mike sir." The comms officer said listening to the feedback the slip space sonar array was sending him.

"Fuck, Larson come here." Matheson beckoned his Champion over.

Larson moved to his Commanders side followed quickly by Naia. He turned off his translator as a precaution, though he doubted it would matter if Naia overheard them, it wasn't like she was ever getting back to her people... alive anyways.

"Yes Commander?"

"I want you and your Fesch on a shuttle pronto. Get to the Final Solution and Admiral Davik when she translates. I want you off this ship in fifteen."

"You want me to run?" Larson said after a moment's hesitation. "Are you serious?"

Matheson sighed and placed a hand on Larson's shoulder, "Yes son I am. I can't leave, and I can't rely on anyone else to hold back from gutting that Fesch of yours."

"I understand." Larson said through grit teeth. "But I'm not happy about it."

"I'll have your things wrapped up and taken to the Night Haunter. Be seeing you son."

"De'val kor Se'sai, father don't do this..." Larson said softly, his head tilted down a little.

"Lars," Matheson gripped both of Larson's shoulders and sighed, "I need you and that thing alive. You will do this because I'm your father and I'm telling you to."

"Yes sir."

"I love you Larson, be seeing you." Matheson let his hand fall and went back to his command throne without another word.

He turned slowly and walked away to the bridge elevator. Though Naia didn't understand the conversation she got a feeling that something bad was about to happen. Larson had this lag in his step, this delay about him, and Naia crept after him from a slighter greater distance than usual. When she entered the elevator she pushed herself into a corner as far from Larson as possible.

She watched him from her peripheral but even with an eye on him she still jumped when he suddenly lashed out at the wall beside him. His fist pounded into the metal three times, three very powerful, very angry times, and left a small dent. Larson sighed and leaned up against the wall and flexed his hand open and closed again. He looked like a person who had just realized they had lost something precious, but Naia couldn't figure what and she dared not ask while he was upset.

The ride was a quick, quiet one with absolutely no interaction between them, Larson didn't even glance her way. Another near miss rocked the ship but where Naia was forced to extend a hand against the wall for balance Larson hardly budged. Whatever had upset him was clouding his thoughts.

The elevator doors slid open, Larson left, Naia followed. They were on the hanger deck again; Naia recognized the fighters, the half-stripped escape pod, and the black stain where Nesa had died. Apparently these aliens found dried blood aesthetically appealing-

Fucking psychopaths…

They made their way down the deck along the wall within two white lines that were spaced far enough apart to drive a small vehicle through, some kind of non-flight deck personnel path. On the outside of the white line closest to the fighters was a thick red line with occasional dashes in it and after a moment of observation Naia noticed that people were only crossing over the dashed sections. Naia figured it to be a type of controlled movement line. She was about to examine the docking bay and its design further but Larson had stopped suddenly and she bumped into him.

"What the?" Larson twisted around with hands clenched angrily.

"I'm sorry!" Naia yelped as one of Larson's hands came around and caught her jaw in a wide arc. She fell to a knee and angled herself away to shield Aeres, who had begun crying, from any poorly aimed strikes.

"Apparently your cunt Fesch species are as aware of their surroundings as they are parentally inept!" Larson yelled over the soft monotone of the translator as his fist rose up.

"No, please!" Naia begged, "It was an accident!"

Instead of striking her the hand came down and gripped some of her crests tightly and yanked her head back so she was staring up into his mask. Her eyes welled up with tears and her jaw clenched shut. "You are the accident here! You blue squid-heads are a mistake! You fucking Fesch filth don't deserve to breath the same air we do…"

Naia didn't respond and tried to avoid his gaze but to no avail, his mask was too close to her face. "We're going to have a lot of fun you and I. Now get up and get on the shuttle."

Larson threw her head down and crossed over the dashed red lines between two black armored soldiers towards a sleek dark blue shuttle. Naia rose to her feet and tried to calm the crying child in her arms as she passed between the guards quickly.

"Get the fuck away from me!" One of the guards exclaimed in disgust as he shoved her forwards towards the shuttle.

Naia lost her footing and scrapped a knee on the steel floor. The guards laughed as she hissed in pain but Naia didn't stick around to be abused again, she scrambled to her feet and chased after Larson with a small limp. She glanced up and noticed he was watching her, though his demeanor and posture seemed shockingly tolerant. Naia questioned her new owner's sanity and wondered if he was bipolar-

You're owner…

"Hurry up." Larson said patiently as he tilted his head to stare at her small injury.

Naia did as she was told, pushing the thought aside, and walked up the boarding ramp with the whimpering child in her arms. The interior of the craft was dark and unwelcoming; it was also cold and made Naia's breath visible, she began shivering.

"Davis, raise the ramp please." Larson said as he began rummaging through compartments.

"Your will, Champion Larson." A soft voice called out as the boarding ramp rose up on hissing pistons.

"Sit down." Larson said as he pulled a duffle bag out of a compartment and set it down on one of the seats that line the walls.

Naia walked over, the raw injuries on her feet stinging painfully against the ice cold metal. She grimaced and grunted a few times before she managed to sit down. The seats weren't all that better, probably foam wrapped in a plastic coat. She was so cold... and poor Aeres! The young one was shaking in her arms.

Larson knelt down in front of her and picked up her leg to examine the knee injury. He took a glance at the bottom of her feet but went back to her knee injury, must not be too bad. The knee scrape wasn't much of a wound really, just a small tear in flesh with a little blood, but still Larson began tending to it with some medical supplies he pulled from the duffle bag. He wiped the blood off with a sterilized alcohol pad, it stung but Naia refused flinch, before squeezing a thick transparent red-tinted gel from a tube and smeared it onto the damaged flesh.

"This is Hell Gel, just a thick goo packed with vital nutrients, cellular growth steroids, and all sorts of antibiotics." Larson muttered as he wiped his hand off and began wrapping up her knee with a gauze bandage.

"Why is it called-" Naia trailed off as a burning sensation flared up from her knee.

Larson clamped her mouth shut and pressed on her wound. The burning grew hotter, began spreading up her thigh. Naia cried into Larson's hand, pulling Aeres tightly to her chest. Though as quickly as it came the burning was extinguished equally as quick. Naia calmed down, she had begun sweating, and breathed out a long sigh of relief.

"Because it burns like Hell." Larson replied with a chuckle and let her go once he decided she was no longer in pain. "It's the byproduct of the chemical reaction that takes place when the Hell Gel is actively fighting infection, viruses, germs, and what have you."

Larson stood up and put the duffle bag away but came back with something else. "Put this on. Can't have you freezing to death now can I?" Larson said with a smile in his voice as he opened a compartment and tossed a folded up suit with a pair of boots onto the co-pilot chair.

Naia stood up slowly and made to move but Larson stepped in front of her and reached for Aeres. She panicked and took a subconscious step back and turned the child away from him. Larson didn't halt his advance and simply grabbed the child from Naia with a hostile snarl.

He held the child gently in his arms but stared at Naia and sighed. "See, here's the thing. I'm all about punishment and reward. Now I've told you to follow orders like the good little Fesch whore I know you are but it would seem you haven't figured it out yet. So, when we get to the Final Solution, you'll be going through some serious remedial training to... help you understand and adjust."

Naia's eye twitched as she realized what he was so tacitly informing her of. She nodded slowly, she shivered, and Larson nodded back and turned away. She stood there thinking about her future and what it might encompass. A dark thought slipped from the deepest reaches of her mind to cloud her better judgment.

You're his slave now, his play thing. He owns you and there's only one thing you can do about it...

Naia shuddered as images of suicide flashed in her head. There was always a second option. She could suffer through it to keep Aeres alive and out of harm's way, Larson didn't seem too keen on hurting her, not yet anyways. If Naia had to suffer a hundred years before she could escape with Aeres then so be it.

Larson had wrapped Aeres in a white blanket of sorts, though it looked more like a pillowcase than a blanket. However, Aeres had stopped shaking and was snuggling into Larson's chest like the little oblivious child she was. His effortless ability to calm the little girl was astounding and Naia found herself extremely envious. Even after centuries of interacting with families and their children Naia just couldn't get the hang of it. Hell, Aeres was a handful all by herself, but Naia gave herself a little credit considering the situation. This man's had… what? Twenty years, twenty-five tops? Assuming he has a lifespan like most of the other races of the galaxy, of course. Maybe he's just good with kids... the jealousy just kept building.

Naia picked up the suit and unfolded it before her. It was a black body suit with white and brown fur lining. It was surprisingly appealing to the eye, unlike most things these aliens have. Larson's armor for instance: dark paint, barbs and hooks, an intimidating mask... freaks.

No, just different...

Naia sighed inwardly as her naturally kind and forgiving personality took hold. It was a strange feeling that she didn't want to admit after all the shit these aliens had done... but Naia couldn't help but imagine what terrible event could've taken place to turn an entire species into paranoid alien hating monsters. It turned her rage into pity because her mind rejected the possibility that an entire species, so civilized and advanced, could also be so naturally... evil.

Naia began putting the suit on and noticed Larson staring at her as he ran his fingers over Aeres's small crests. She hesitated only in the slightest but was eager to be wrapped up tight and warm, also to be clothed after hours of exposure. Those boots looked amazing as well, fur lined and thick.

Larson looked away and disabled his translator so the aircraft controllers could hear him over the comms and began start up sequences.

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One."

"Night Haunter One, Panther Ground go ahead."

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One holding short taxiway Zulu at parking spot alpha seven requesting permission onto taxiway Zulu to access runway Omega two-three-six for launch."

"Night Haunter One, Panther Ground proceed onto taxiway Zulu and hold short runway Omega two-three-six, repeat hold short instructions Night Haunter One."

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One proceeding onto taxiway Zulu will hold short runway." Larson said running up the engines and rolling out of the aircraft parking spot slowly.

"Larson?" Naia ventured softly as she sat back down in the exceptionally comfortable and warm body suit.

"I don't think you've shown me that you deserve to call me by my given name." Larson said glancing over at her as he piloted the small shuttle along a black and yellow line.

"Oh, okay, what should I call you?" Naia asked and held her hands out motioning for Aeres; she figured it was probably in their best interests to let him pilot the ship with both hands.

"Well, seeing as how you're my slave," Larson began, handing her the child, he was being very straight forward, "and how I'll be teaching you my language so I can get rid of this shit… call me Master, makes sense doesn't it?"

Naia didn't know what to say at first, this wasn't something she was anticipating. "I-uh, I- I guess it… makes sense."

"Excellent, excellent, here, try it out." Larson said turning the shuttle sharply to the right and stopped.

"Master…" Naia said snuggling Aeres up against her warm suit.

"What a good girl." Larson said with a laugh.

Naia looked down in a combination of shame and anger but didn't respond. She just couldn't figure this guy out, he seemed to contradict everything. He hates her but he binds her wounds, despises all aliens but actively enjoys Aeres's presence… Naia needed to know what his motive was.

"Lar- ah, Master?" Naia said catching herself.

"Yes my little pet?" Larson asked sincerely, Naia flinched at the brand placed upon her.

"Please don't see me as ungrateful, I am truly, but I'm curious…" Naia glanced at her Master and hesitated as her peripheral picked up on the snarl angling itself in her direction. "Why did you help me just now?"

Larson stared at her for a long moment before responding and though he answered her question fully she couldn't stop her heart from sinking as the translator whispered to her her fate.

"You… are my property now. You are mine in the same way that this armor is mine and this pistol is mine. I take care of my property; I oil my guns, I polish my armor, and I'll heal your wounds." Larson said simply, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "Besides, the maintenance floor isn't exactly a sterile location. Floor's covered in seventy-eight-oh-eight, eighty-three-two-eighty-two, hydrazine, Detamozine acid… and I can't have you dying of exposure so soon; orders are to keep you alive."

Something came over the comms to distract Larson and give Naia a few moments to process what he'd just said. She became concerned that she wasn't worried by his words… she was happy. She was so fucking happy that Larson was going to keep her alive, though as a play thing maybe but alive nonetheless. Naia smiled and looked down at Aeres who had fallen asleep in her arms and remained asleep. She looked so peaceful, so blissfully ignorant lying there.

"Night Haunter One, Panther Ground proceed onto runway two-three-six for launch radio clear of runway when off ship, relay launch clearance instructions Night Haunter One." The comms hissed quietly.

Larson looked away and twisted the shuttle onto the runway, a simple stretch of open track angled slightly away from the rest of the space craft parking spots to guide a vessel off the ship.

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One launching on runway two-three-six will advise when off ship." Larson grabbed a lever and threw it forwards.

Almost instantly Naia felt the shuttle vibrate before slowly rolling down the runway. Though this man held her life in the palm of his hand she couldn't help but smirk at their sub-par technology. Then he pulled down on a handled double lever and Naia was practically sucked into her seat by the head throbbing acceleration. The shuttle shrieked down the runway, the engines spitting trails of fire and screaming thunder. Flashes of color blew by in an artsy mosaic blur before Larson pulled back slightly and angled the joystick to the left putting the shuttle in a hard arc mere meters off the deck.

The shuttle exploded out of the Red Jackal's MS 'ZH' barrier and continued in its arc before leveling out and flying away from the Red Jackal at forty-five degrees. Larson killed the engines and pressed a few buttons as the shuttle coasted at the insanely high takeoff speed which it would continue traveling at unless opposed.

"Panther Ground, Night Haunter One off runway at this time." Larson said quickly.

"Understood Night Haunter One."

An alert screeched accompanied by flashing red lights just a heartbeat before a bright white light lit up the interior of the shuttle, passed it, and continued on in the same second it arrived.

"Proximity alert, one of the Fesch rounds almost got us. Fuckers, don't they know there's a child aboard?" Larson said throwing his hands up in a comic jest before setting his hands back on the controls with a sigh. "I'll see them all six feet under, even if it kills me."

"It will." Naia said as her heart calmed down from the surprise near-death experience.

"Not before you." Larson looked over at her and tilted his head slightly. "Davis, take us to the designated rendezvous point."

Naia shrank back into her seat and pulled Aeres close. Larson chuckled and let go of the controls and leaned back into his seat with a depressed sigh.

The shuttle was illuminated by another flash of light, this time from behind them. The light quickly grew in intensity and Naia had to close her eyes to keep from being blinded by it. A few thuds echoed throughout the shuttle and Naia opened her eyes, the light was gone. The blast shutters had slammed shut, probably a sensor tripped to let the computer know the light was reaching retina damaging levels.

"Do you know what that was?" Larson asked slowly, knowingly.

"No Master." Naia replied softly glancing over at him, never making direct eye contact... well, eye-mask contact.

"That, my little Fesch whore," Naia frowned at his oh-so casual use of the phrase but it didn't sting nearly as much as she thought it would. This was just the way he was and Naia had to pick and choose what she wanted to hear and let the rest roll of her shoulders, "was a MS 'ZH' barrier failing."

Larson unbuckled his harness and stood up, his boots mag-locking to the deck, and he made his way to the rear of the shuttle. "Davis, roll up the shutters please."

"Your will, Champion Larson." Davis said slowly.

Larson stood before the small rear viewport and placed a hand against the glass and the shutters retracted. Naia unbuckled her harness and followed him, she stood a little ways back and just off to one side enough to see what he was staring at. Her boots didn't lock her to the floor so she had to hold onto a seat to keep from drifting away.

It was so quiet in the shuttle, the purr of the engines and the sublime whisper of ventilation fans the only constant sounds, that Naia could hear Larson breathing. Harsh, shaky breaths came slowly, as if he was doing his absolute best to control his emotions... and maybe he was. Naia could take a few blind guesses as to why.

The Red Jackal was more than just another ship to Larson. It was more than a block of steel bristling with gun batteries and sensor arrays, dancing under the shimmering light of a barrier, it was his home... and it was about to be taken away from him.

Naia wanted to smile so badly, wanted to break out laughing at his upcoming loss, but couldn't. Her conscious was pushing her hate away and replacing it with sympathy and understanding. It reminded her, in graven detail, of loved ones lost and how devastated she had been. It challenged her to think about what Larson was about to go through, enemy or not, on either side of the line it hits home in the same way.

No, Naia couldn't be cold hearted, it just wasn't her disposition to be so hateful. She was wired a peculiar way that almost entirely prevented her from acting upon dark thoughts, regardless of how small or petty.

Oh but she'll think about it alright, she'll fantasize the fuck out of it. Then afterwards she feels like shit for doing so. Sometimes, certain events occur that make Naia hate her overly kind nature. Sometimes, Naia wished she could let loose on someone. Naia wanted the ability to laugh at someone's misfortune. She wants to be a good person but some people deserve to be hurt.

You're turning into Larson...

Naia closed her eyes and shook her head to try and clear her thoughts. She looked up, Larson had a hand on the window and was breathing softly, and frowned. She had this urge to comfort him, almost a need to help someone in distress, but didn't want to. Regardless, she felt her hand extending towards Larson's shoulder... and then she noticed it.

Larson's pistol was exposed. Naia could snatch it right off his hip and put a round in his head, like poor Nesa. Quick, painless, and no one would care. She'd wait for the Red Jackal to be destroyed and simply fly the craft over to the Turian dreadnought. It might take her a minute to figure out the controls and how to open a channel to the Turians but she was far enough away that she wouldn't need to worry about being shot at, such a small target was a nightmare for the dreadnoughts targeting array.

Her hand dipped down to the bulky, bizarrely designed pistol. It didn't collapse or fold up for storage but remained at full size at all times. The handle itself was wide; it probably stored the power cell or fusion core within the grip, but good Goddess the barrel! It had to be 20 centimeters long! And girl was it thick… Naia couldn't fathom the power within. For a brief moment she imagined it as a cornered animal, massive and layered in muscle and about to give everything it's got to escape. The shear potential held in check by something as simple as the small mechanical catch on the firing mechanism… it was hard for her to fathom.

It intimidated her on a level she's never felt before. It wasn't just a massively powerful weapon that could probably punch straight through the special Turian Predator armor, through the user, and out the back. It was an executioner's weapon, a device designed with the sole purpose of inspiring terror in its victim. To leave no room for hope when staring down that colossal barrel; a knowing glint of steel at the end of the dark tunnel, the slightest hint of what lay beyond.

A blink of light distracted Naia and Larson's fist coming up in a flash and slamming into the reinforced glass caused Naia's hand to hesitate just inches from the grip.

"No! FUCK!" Larson screamed and continued to smash his fist in to the glass, "GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!"

Naia flinched and took a step back; her thought process went from revenge and escape to survival mode. She glanced over his shoulder and… the Red Jackal was just visible in the distance. It had been cracked in two by the Thessius. Gases were venting into space along with bits of debris and… people, a lot of people. Void death… considered the most painful way to die next to burning to death.

Both of Larson's hands were up against the glass; he was seething and… weeping. This was Naia's chance, possibly her only chance.

This is it! Go for it!

Naia slowly set Aeres down in one of the chairs lining the wall of the shuttle, tucking her slightly under the arm rest to keep her from drifting away in the zero gravity and crept back to Larson. She pulled every last drop of courage from the bowels of her heart and lunged in for the pistol. It was surprisingly easy to retrieve and as she stepped back to aim she realized she had to use two hands to hold it upright. Larson twisted around with an angry growl, the tips of his armored fingers grazing her face but his other hand didn't miss the pistol. Though it wasn't a direct strike and hit her hand instead of the weapon it greatly knocked her aim off as she squeezed the trigger.

It was possibly the worst possible outcome of the situation, exception being the round striking Aeres. The bullet made contact with one of the windows behind Larson and Naia's breath caught in her throat. For a brief moment, as the adrenalin surged through her veins, she thought she could see the thick round travel through the glass. It was slow, dedicated on its path, and turned purposefully as the glass cracked and splintered around it. Each crack spreading along around the bullet was another cut in Naia's diminishing existence, each millimeter the round traveled was another moment closer to death, and there was nothing Naia could do- the glass exploded as the integrity failed against the pressure difference.

Naia stumbled forwards into Larson, the scream of air whipped them back and threatened to force them out of the shuttle. The pistol slipped from her hand and vanished into the dark abyss behind them. Larson was back up against the wall, his head mere centimeters from the shattered window, and Naia had fallen into his chest. She was hugging onto him tightly with eyes locked shut and teeth barred in terror.

Larson gripped a handrail bolted to the wall and forced himself down to the floor with Naia fused to his body. He was terribly worried, terribly afraid not for himself but for little Aeres. Fortunately, the arm rests between each seat was blocking her deadly escape. Larson sighed to himself and spoke softly into the comms unit built into his mask.

"Davis, I could use a hand here." Larson practically whispered though the air was bellowing in his ears.

"I exist to serve Champion Larson." Davis said as the blast shutter slammed shut.

The air stilled, sound came back, peace returned. Naia leaned back with a soft gasp and stared at Larson with the oddest look. It was almost apologetic, almost thankful, and almost affectionate. It was everything Larson hadn't expected to find twisted into her features. Naia had this way about her that Larson was slowly starting to understand, it almost made him laugh, he loved her personality… she would please him for months should he allow her to live any longer. However, Larson refrained from something as mundane as joyous mirth and opted for a more satisfying action.

Larson ran his hands up Naia's arms to her shoulders and violently shoved her off him. She fell back onto the steel floor between two chairs but Larson didn't give her the time of day to recover. He was upon her in a heartbeat and cratered his fist into her face before she could bring her hands up to block; the surprise look on her face was where the real entertainment was at, it made him smile through his furry.

He hauled her up by her throat and slammed her down over a chair, her lower and central back striking the arm rests awkwardly. He bent her head back and to the side, her legs kicking air and fingers clawing at his hands and mask.

"Not going to lie, you had me dead to rights…" The translator hissed softly, his fingers loosened and Naia took in a long breath. Larson shook his head in disbelief and sighed, "but you were never going to kill me, know why?"

He twisted his grip to make Naia's head turn left and right, he laughed, "Because I'm better than you. I'm Human and you're... You're just another vile little afterthought whose pitiful excuse for an existence slipped by Mother Nature. Now it comes to her chosen species, the rightful rulers of the galaxy, to once again purge the filth from her lands."

"Only the strong survive, that's her law, and we survived…" Naia muttered through angry teeth and teary eyes, "We are strong. Very, very strong."

"Strong…" Larson laughed and slipped a hand down her body, rolling over her curves and slants, savoring the angles she provided for him in this position, and between her legs. She yelped in surprise, her eyes widening and face rippling in horror, his hand clamped down tightly, "or loose?"

Larson didn't allow her to respond and yanked his hand out from between her legs and cracked his fist into her face. Naia collapsed, unconscious and sporting a broken nose, and Aeres started crying. The sudden sound surprised Larson, he had thought the little one passed out during the breach. Though perhaps she did and was now waking up dazzled and irritated, though for the moment Larson ignore her. He sat Naia up in the chair, her limp body a slight challenge to maneuver around, and buckled her in. He ran a finger along the curvature of her jaw and brushed some blood away from her nose and leaned back.

"If I didn't have orders… If my father hadn't…" Larson shook his head and lifted his mask up over his head to wear it like a hat while he wiped the tears away; his hands were shaking. "You will never hate me as much as I hate you…"

He smiled sadly, sniffing to keep his nose from running. He looked over to Aeres, still crying, and moved over to her. "Oh no, shush now little one."

Larson picked her up and rocked her gently in his arms making soft, soothing sounds. He leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead. Aeres continued to cry but had drastically calmed down, becoming a soft whimper. Larson smiled and laughed quietly to himself. "Hey there baby girl."

Aeres look up at him and grabbed at the small barbs on his armor, "Oh no don't do that, you might hurt yourself."

Larson held her close and cuddled her against his chest, keeping her clear of the potentially harmful barbs and hooks. He kissed her crests and turned to another window just as Davis sounded over the speakers.

"Champion Larson, Fleet Leviathan will be exiting slip space momentarily." Davis said softly.

"Thank you Davis… just… just a little late is all." Larson choked on a sob and dropped his head up against the glass as he watched the Red Jackal drift to pieces.

His father was gone, he wouldn't abandon ship. He wasn't that kind of person to be seen as retreating, it made Larson smile regardless. Aeres got a little louder, pulling Larson from his thoughts, and he backed away and looked down at her with a smile. He turned away from the window and leaned up against the wall before sinking to down to the floor. Larson bit back his quivering breath but couldn't stop the tears. He stroked Aeres's crests and sang to her softly in tunes shaken by a broken voice while he waited the arrival of Fleet Leviathan.