There were very few things to enjoy at Meero Orphanage.
The dilapidated building was on the verge of being condemned, the toys were old and broken to the point where a doll with more than one limb was precious and rare, and the few rusted pieces of playground equipment that could still bear weight were located on the edge of a sheer cliff.
The one thing that 'everyone' enjoyed, however, was mealtime.
Twice a day the children of Meero Orphanage gathered in the small, mold-infested cafeteria, eager for something to eat. As always, the children formed a line leading into the cafeteria moments before the automatic doors opened.
The population of Meero Orphanage was constantly changing as the children survived to legal age, or, very rarely, were adopted and new orphans arrived to replace them. Being native to the Zarkov Sector, however, Weeblesnogs were the most common species to be sent there and they made up almost half of the orphanage.
About twenty in all and they were always the first in line.
Behind the Weeblesnogs stood the Markazians. Roughly a dozen at any given time, they made up the second-largest group, followed by the six or so Hoolefoids. Last and also least, at the very end of the line, stood Vendra and Neftin Prog.
The hierarchy of Meero was clearly defined. Each group kept to their own, with the larger group getting the first pick of donated toys, clothes, blankets, and of course: food.
This meant that the lone Prog siblings, being the only two members of their strange and unidentified species, always ate last as well.
When the doors to the cafeteria finally opened, every child instinctively took a step forward and the line began to move.
The first to eat, even among the Weeblesnogs, was a large child by the name of Leedlestone.
Leedlestone, whose lip tentacles had already reached their chest, was the oldest Weeblesnog and the de facto leader of the group.
As he did every mealtime, Leedlestone picked up the first sticky tray from the poorly washed pile at the front of the serving line and held it up to the rusted old server bot that stood permanently bolted in place on the other side of a stained serving counter.
At one time, there had been several server bots on the line, marked by the twisted metal legs that flanked the sole remaining automaton. Legend tells that each bot had offered a different kind of food item and the children could pick and choose what they wanted.
However, no orphan living at Meero today could remember such a time.
In order to get served, each child was scanned and identified to ensure that they hadn't already received their rationed nutrients.
Everyone held their breath as the server bot's eyes flashed red and it scanned Leedlestone.
Occasionally, the old bot's scanner would fail, mistakenly marking a child as having already received their rations. It would then refuse to serve them anything to eat.
A long few seconds later, the bot's eyes flashed green and everyone let out a sigh of relief. It seemed to be working properly today.
With Leedlestone's identity confirmed, the long, plastic tube attached to the end of the server bot's arms began to shake and rumble until a fat wad of grey nutrition paste spat from the end of it and landed on the outstretched tray with a wet 'plop'.
Leedlestone grinned and all the other kids looked enviously at the gelatinous pile of protein and vitamins. The first serving of 'food' was always the biggest.
One by one each child followed suit, retrieving a tray, getting scanned, and receiving their nutrients, before heading off to one of the few tables still standing in the cafeteria.
As the line slowly shrank, Vendra could hear her stomach growling. She wasn't the only kid whose stomach made sounds of hunger as they waited. For many the pain was almost unbearable, but everyone remained orderly.
Cutting in line would be a terrible mistake. Trying to steal food, even if only delaying everyone else from getting theirs, was the greatest crime one could commit in Meero Orphanage.
It was fine, though. They would all get their share eventually...
However, about halfway through the Markazian's group, the serving tube began to shake more violently than usual.
Everyone in line went still and fixed their gaze on the shaking serving hose. In particular, the eyes of the child who was holding up their tray widened in horror as a large belch of air came out… and little else.
Like everything else in Meero, the old serving system which carried the paste from the storage vats that were locked in the kitchen behind the server bot, was falling apart and was prone to letting air into its lines.
When this happened, the air would sometimes collect in pockets until it burst out of the tube all at once. When this happened, there wasn't enough pressure to carry any nutrition paste and the child unfortunate enough to be standing in front of the server bot when it happened received little more than few leftover droplets from the last serving.
The Markazian child looked up dejectedly at the emotionless and half rusted away face of the autonomous server. Having already been identified and logged, the old bot would not offer them another serving until the next scheduled mealtime.
The young orphan's stomach growled with hunger and their face screwed up in pain and misery at seeing half their daily food rations disappear in a literal puff of air.
Just as they were about to cry, however, the next Markazian in line put a hand on their shoulder and gave them a reassuring smile.
Sniffling slightly, the unlucky Markazian nodded and took their near-empty tray over to the Markazian's table and joined their fellows.
When all the other Markazian children had received their servings and assembled, their leader, a Markazian by the name of Brayna who was the oldest, stood up. She then began scooping a little bit of paste from each of the kid's trays using an old wooden spoon and adding it to the unlucky child's empty tray.
The Markazian childrens' faces fell slightly as their already meager portions shrank even further, but they didn't blame the unfortunate child for this. It was just part of life at Meero Orphanage. When one of their own went without, the rest pulled together to share the burden. It was how they survived.
Vendra and Neftin took no notice of this, however. It was something they'd seen a hundred times at the orphanage and it wouldn't be the last.
Instead, their focus remained hungrily glued to the server bot as it plopped paste onto each of the remaining Hoolefoids' trays.
At long last, it was Vendra's turn and the young Nether eagerly placed her tray beneath the food hose. She held her breath as the bot scanned her and breathed out in relief as it turned green and the tube began to shake.
That relief... died a second later when only air spat onto her tray.
Vendra stood there, eyes wide in utter disbelief.
Reality sunk in when her empty stomach tightened and growled in dismay.
This wasn't the first time Vendra had gotten a 'burp', as the young children of Meero had dubbed it, but this one hurt especially bad.
This was because she hadn't expected it.
A child in Meero Orphanage learns to expect misfortune constantly, but Vendra had never seen the machine burp more than once per mealtime.
Because she had seen the Markazian child get nothing but air, she'd made the grave mistake of believing. Believing that she would absolutely receive her meal this time and that it would definitely mean a brief respite from her near-constant hunger pains.
Vendra's lip began to quiver, but before any tears started to form, the young Nether's survival instincts took over. She went completely numb to any sorrow and her expression became blank as she studied her empty tray.
Not even bothering to look up at the pitiless server bot, she stood aside and looked away. She didn't want to see her brother's face at that moment.
While they both knew it wasn't her fault, this meant that they would have to split Neftin's share. Unlike the Markazian's, the Progs only had each other, so their portions could not be divided amongst many.
Still, this was just life in Meero and Vendra steeled herself to face it as she always did.
That was until she heard a harsh buzz sound from behind her.
Immediately Vendra spun around to find Neftin's look of horror as he stared up at the red eyes of the server bot which flashed angrily.
They both knew immediately that the scanner had malfunctioned and that the system had mistakenly marked Neftin as having already received a meal.
Almost in a panic, Neftin tried to raise his empty tray again, only to be scanned and rejected once more.
Quivering slightly, he turned and made eye contact with Vendra. Together the two of them realized what this meant and their stomachs growled in unison.
Dejected, the two siblings turned back to the rest of the cafeteria, where their fellow orphans were sitting.
With food in their bellies and the constant pain of hunger gone for a brief moment, the other children were chatting and laughing together in their groups, savoring each bite of nutrition paste, one finger-full at a time.
They paid no heed to the pain and loss of the Prog twins.
Vendra looked at Neftin and Neftin looked back at her. They both knew they had only one option left and so, without a word, they took their empty trays over the old wooden crate that sat in the corner of the cafeteria.
Of the four surviving tables in the eating space, the Weeblesnogs took up two and each of the remaining two went to the Markazians and the Hoolefoids.
The Hoolefoids only used up about half of their table, but both Vendra and Neftin knew they weren't welcome there… They had tried.
So instead, this crate, an old piece of garbage that had never got thrown out, now served as their table.
But that was fine as far as the Progs were concerned. In fact, it gave them an advantage.
Being the only two members of their race, the young Nethers were the target of a fair amount of bullying. This included having what little they possessed stolen from them.
The number one most unforgivable crime in the orphanage was stealing food, as it was the single most precious resource to every child there. Even so, it still happened, especially to the Progs.
Because of this, Vendra and Neftin had learned to prepare for the worst.
Neftin kept watch as Vendra subtly slid their crate table over a few inches, revealing a loose floorboard.
Beneath this board, the Progs hid their most precious possession of all… food.
Because they could not share the burden of lost meals among many members, Vendra and Neftin had instead shared the burden over many days.
For the past several weeks (since the last time one of them got a 'burp'), both Prog siblings had scraped a small fingerful of nutrition paste off their already meager meals and had added it to a tiny jar they'd found.
The paste was so full of preservatives that it never went bad and, as much as that small bite of food hurt to give up, both Vendra and Neftin knew that a mealtime without any food hurt far more.
Vendra finished sliding the crate off of their hiding spot. She knew they'd only saved about a single meal's worth of paste so far, but as her stomach growled again, she silently thanked Neftin for his foresight. It had been his idea to start doing this so long ago.
She pulled the board up and reached in to retrieve the tiny bottle… but she found nothing.
The small hole was completely empty!
Vendra stared at the dark, hollow space in disbelief, her starved mind unable to make sense of what she was looking at.
"Ven," Neftin whispered after a while. "What's wrong? Did you get the jar?"
But Vendra didn't respond. She knew that their emergency rations had been in here. They had been in there earlier today, at morning mealtime.
The only explanation was that someone must have seen what they were hiding and had taken it... but how?
Even if the thief knew where their food had been hidden, every child left the cafeteria together at the same time and the doors sealed behind them.
Unsure of what she was doing, Neftin leaned over to see what was wrong and he let out a small squeak of anguish when he saw that there was no jar.
But Vendra was already standing up and looking frantically around the room.
If their stash wasn't robbed after the previous mealtime, it must have been stolen mere moments ago while they were focused on getting the daily rations.
She scanned the rows of smiling children like a predator on the hunt. Then... she saw it.
Under the Markazians' table, poorly hidden behind a broken table leg was their jar… empty.
Too starved and angry to think clearly, Vendra took a step forward.
Neftin, realizing what she was about to do, tried to stop her, but her fury would not allow it.
The tiny Nether girl stomped right up to the Markazian who sat over to the jar and glared at them.
The laughing child was oblivious to her presence until she bellowed in their ear, "You stole our food!"
Vendra's shriek was so loud that all other conversations in the cafeteria were silenced at once.
It wasn't just the sound of Vendra's voice that made everyone stop, but her words. Stealing food was the worst crime a child could commit in Meero.
All eyes turned to her and the Markazian she'd accused.
But Brayna, the Markazians' leader, stood up immediately and stormed over, "What's this about?" she demanded angrily.
Markazians were a naturally tall species and the older girl towered over Vendra, but the tiny Nether did not back down.
"Argic stole our food!" Vendra answered without looking up. Her eyes narrowed on the Markazian child she'd singled out.
There was some murmuring from the other groups and a slight look of panic crossed Argic's face.
But Brayna didn't even bother to look at him, "You have proof?" she countered, crossing her arms and standing even taller.
Vendra reached down and picked up the tiny glass jar from the floor, "This was ours!" she declared. "Me and Nef have been saving for weeks and it was full this morning!"
The tall Markazian leader snatched the jar from Vendra's hands and examined it. The glass had been almost licked clean, but there were still some grey flecks on the inside.
Brayna scowled at the jar, "This doesn't prove anything. How do 'I' know you didn't hide it there before mealtime?"
Vendra's anger turned to confusion. The doors to the cafeteria were sealed outside of mealtimes and everyone left together. The only time someone could do something like that was at the start when the children were focused on getting their meals.
As she and her brother were always the last in line, it would have been impossible for them to plant the jar without someone noticing.
"A-ask him yourself," Vendra insisted, turning back to Argic.
When she did, however, she was greeted by the sight of nearly a dozen Markazian children of varying ages all either standing up or in the process of getting to their feet. All of them glared at her with looks of disdain.
A slight smirk bent Brayna's lips when she saw the surprise on Vendra's face, "Argic, did you steal Vendra's food?" she asked without turning to look at him.
Feeling more confident now, Argic sneered at Vendra, "Of course not. She's lying!"
Brayna nodded. The Markazian leader could feel the eyes of the Weeblesnogs and Hoolefoids on her and she knew she needed to remove suspicion as firmly as possible, "There you have it," she said with finality. "Now go back to your corner… or else."
Vendra was dumbfounded. Not a single Markazian showed even a hint of doubt on their faces.
The young Nether wondered if maybe they had all been in on it, if they'd known about the jar and, like the Progs, had waited for a mealtime like this one where one of their members got a burp. Perhaps it wasn't even Argic that had stolen the jar initially. He might have just been the one to finish it off.
This thought infuriated Vendra and she opened her mouth to argue further, but before she could, she felt a hand on her arm.
Thinking it was one of the Markazians, she spun on them but stopped when she realized that it was her brother and was taken aback by the look of fear and concern in Neftin's eyes.
It was then that she looked around, seeing the eyes of the Weeblesnogs and the Hoolefoids on them and not a single one carried a hint of empathy.
Since the Weeblesnogs were the first to eat, one of them must have seen what the Markazians had done, but it was clear from the way they watched this injustice unfold that they had no intention of helping the Progs.
That's when she realized... it didn't matter if all of the Markazians were in on it or if Argic had stolen the jar himself. None of the Markazian's would believe her, a Nether, and outsider, over one of their own. And none of the other groups would lift a finger to intervene, even if they knew the truth, because she wasn't one of them.
Vendra turned again and looked into the angry eyes of the offended Markazians. They looked as if they were just waiting for their leader to give the word so they could attack her and her brother.
There was nothing she could do and Vendra's anger quickly simmered out, leaving behind a cold feeling of helplessness in its place.
Once more, Neftin tugged on his sister's arm. Thankfully, she didn't resist this time.
With all of her will to fight drained from her, he was able to guide her back to their crate in defeat.
As they left, the others went back to their meals. The Markazians glared at them until they returned to their crate, but pretty soon it was like nothing had ever happened.
The children of Meero went back to enjoying their meal and the Progs sat quietly in their corner, trying not to think about the emptiness in their stomachs.
Vendra's eyes stared blankly at the Markazians as they laughed and ate among themselves. She could tell that she was the butt of much of the laughter, but she didn't care. All she could think about was food and her stomach contracted painfully each time she watched one of them place a finger-full of nutrition paste in their mouth.
It was a common technique to eat the paste one small finger scoop at a time. This made the meager meal feel like it was much more than it was.
But to someone who had no food at all, this slow, delicate way of eating food was sheer torture.
"Stop it," Neftin warned from somewhere on the edge of Vendra's perception. "It will only make it worse."
Vendra knew he was right, but she couldn't look away. She felt like she no longer even had the strength to turn her head if she wanted to.
All she could do was stare fixedly at the small clump of half eaten nutrition paste that sat on one Markazian's tray, wishing desperately for just a taste.
Vendra's vision began to blur. It would seem she was getting ready to pass out from hunger... again.
Still, as her peripheral vision dissolved into a faint darkness, she remained focused on that one tray of paste, thinking that if she imagined hard enough, maybe she'd at least dream of getting to eat it.
The image of it grew larger in her mind, filling her hazy vision.
As her strength faded, Vendra's head fell forward and she looked dazedly at the tray of food in her lap.
…
Vendra blinked several times and the purple haze that had been clouding her vision faded.
Her groggy mind cleared. She knew what she was looking at, but didn't understand how it was possible.
"N-Nef," Vendra breathed in a faint whisper, sure that this could only be a dream and needing someone to verify it.
Weakly, Neftin turned to his Sister, but the moment he saw what she was holding, his eyes lit up and life returned to him.
"B-but… how?" he rasped.
Vendra had no answer for him. She didn't even remember the last few moments. It was as if the tray had magically just come to her.
"Hey!" came a child's scream from the other side of the cafeteria.
Both Neftin and Vendra looked up to see one of the Markazian children desperately looking around and under their table.
"What's wrong?" one of the other children asked.
"My paste and tray are gone!" they shouted in answer.
On the verge of panic, some of the other Markazians began to search the floor as well... then one of them looked over in the Progs' direction.
Comprehension dawned on Vendra and she quickly tried to hide the tray, but it was too late.
"It's the freaks!" the child shouted, drawing the attention of every other Markazian and most of the other children as well.
In an instant, a mob of enraged Markazian orphans had surrounded the Progs and were pushing the two Nethers back into the corner as Vendra still tried in vain to hide the tray.
Brayna stepped forward, looking even angrier than the rest of her group.
"Give it back," she hissed menacingly.
Her voice made it clear what would happen if Vendra didn't.
Neftin shook with fear, but he still put himself between their would-be attackers and his sister, "Ven… just give it to them," he hissed desperately over his shoulder.
He wasn't sure how his sister had gotten her hands on the tray, but it didn't matter. They were outnumbered. They were outmatched. They were alone.
Vendra looked down at the half-eaten glob of nutrition paste and her stomach growled in protest. She knew this whole thing wasn't right. The measly morsel on the tray was less than what the Markazians had just stolen from her and Neftin.
But there were a dozen angry Markazians, even the smallest of which stood taller than either her or her brother. They were alone.
With shaking hands, Vendra lifted the tray up to Brayna in offering, but just as she raised it to chest height, her body was suddenly racked with the worst hunger pang she had ever felt in her life.
It was worse than just an empty stomach. The pain wasn't just in her gut. She felt a hunger so deep that it was as if every cell in her body had been drained of energy.
Her vision clouded with purple haze and, before she even knew what she was doing, the young Nether slammed the tray into her face and sucked down the paste in an instant.
Everyone, including Neftin, was aghast. It was the last thing they'd expected to happen.
The Markazians' mouths hung open in horror at what they saw as the loss of 'their' precious food.
When the tray fell away, Vendra stared back at them, equally horrified at what she'd just done, but a part of her felt undeniably satisfied.
It was Brayna who reacted first. The Markazian leader's face turned from disbelief to rage and she reached her long arm out to seize Vendra.
Fear filled Vendra's chest, freezing her in place with terror.
Suddenly, a loud 'crack', followed by the sound of Brayna's stunned yelp filled the air, as the Markazian leader collapsed to the floor.
Vendra blinked in confusion as Neftin spun and threw the tray he'd just used to strike the back of Brayna's knee at one of the other Markazian children, who was even more stunned to see someone assault their leader.
But the child had enough sense left in them to squawk and jump out of the way, leaving a gap in their barricade.
"Run!" Neftin shouted, as he grabbed his sister by the wrist and pulled her towards the gap.
Just as confused as everyone else, Vendra was snapped out of her stupor by the sudden jolt and her survival instincts kicked in.
The two of them raced past the stunned Markazian faces, which quickly turned hateful. Angry shouts followed the two of them as they dashed for the cafeteria entrance.
They only made it about halfway to the door before the long-legged Markazians caught up to them.
In a last-ditch effort, Neftin yanked hard on Vendra's arm, nearly pulling it from its socket, and tossed his forward just as their pursuers jumped on his back and the spot she'd been a moment ago.
"Ven, run!" Neftin repeated as three Markazians scrambled to seize his arms and legs.
Vendra reflexively stood up to run, but she hesitated. She couldn't just leave her brother like that.
But that hesitation was enough and more Markazians caught up, grabbed her, and pulled her to the floor.
"Get off of me!" she screamed as she kicked and flailed, but she was tiny and weak and there were too many of them.
Once they had the Progs under control, a furious looking Brayna stomped her way through the parting crowd of Markazians and her cold eyes locked on Vendra's prone form.
"So, how are you going to pay us back for the food you stole?" she questioned with a darkly curious look.
"You were the ones who stole from us!" Vendra barked indignantly.
The hands of the children that held her head pushed down, pressing Vendra's face harder into the floor.
"Maybe we should eat 'them'," suggested one of the Markazians.
A few others laughed at this.
"Don't," countered another, "They'll give you a stomachache."
More children laughed at this.
"Let's take their food next mealtime!" said the child who's tray Vendra had miraculously summoned and whose mind was only on getting back what they'd lost.
"Of course we will," Brayna agreed with a nod. "We'll make them pay back twice what they took!"
Vendra's defiant features wavered for a moment at the thought of even more precious food being taken. She began fearing that she and her brother might actually starve to death.
But then the cold look in Baryna's eyes turned even darker, "But first, we have to teach them not to steal from us again."
Without warning, the tall Markazian pulled back her foot and kicked Neftin clean in the gut.
The small Nether let out a painful grunt as the wind was knocked from his lungs.
"That's for hitting me with a tray!" Brayna spat.
Vendra's eyes widened in horror and she began to struggle even harder.
But her captors only laughed at her useless attempts.
While Neftin gasped for breath, Brayna gave a nod to her cohorts and with malicious grins, they began to surround him.
"No!" Vendra cried as the orphaned Markazians of Meero suddenly found an outlet for their constant pain and suffering.
"Stop it!" Vendra shouted again, "I stole the paste! I was the one who ate it! Nef had nothing to do with it! He was just trying to protect me!"
"I know," Brayna said as she strode casually over to Vendra's prone and struggling form, while her subordinates continued to beat Neftin. "And now I 'know' you won't do it again."
Through tears, Vendra looked up into the merciless eyes of her assailant. Brayna's eyes, the same ones that had kindly divided out the shares of nutrition paste among her own Markazians, now looked down on Vendra as if she were nothing. As if the young Nether was some kind of animal that needed to be disciplined.
That look of emptiness shook Vendra and she desperately turned once more to the other tables of Weeblesnogs and Hoolefoids, but there she mostly found the backs of heads.
The other orphans were barely even paying attention at this point. The Hoolefoids looked away, knowing that they could do nothing against the Markazian group that outnumbered them. Meanwhile the Weeblesnogs either ignored them altogether or watched with a grin, as if this scene were some form of dark entertainment.
Leedlestone, the only one there who could reasonably do anything to stop it, simply watched with disinterest as he enjoyed his meal.
Neftin cried out when a particularly brutal kick connected with his side.
Vendra's attention snapped back to her brother as she was forced to watch as the only person who didn't think of her as an outsider was beaten for something she'd done.
Sadness, helplessness, hunger, and pain all disappeared from Vendra's mind and it was replaced only by hatred.
She hated the Markazians who stole from them. She hated the Weeblesnogs and Hoolefoids who didn't care. She hated the entire galaxy for treating them both like they didn't belong!
Vendra could feel the heat rising in her body, her skin began to tingle, and her vision wavered into a purple haze.
"Ow!" screamed one of the Markazian children who'd been holding Vendra down.
"Ah!" cried the other.
They both jumped up, holding their hands out in pain.
"What happened?!" Brayna demanded, confusion and concern on her face.
"Something shocked me!" one child answered through tears as they pressed their hand into their chest.
Vendra gasped as the weight of her attackers was suddenly lifted.
The young Nether didn't have time to question her sudden stroke of luck. She immediately jumped to her feet and stared up into the eyes of the Markazian leader, who now wore a slight look of fear.
As much as Vendra wanted to charge in and save her brother, she knew she'd be no help now, there were just too many of them. Her only hope was to get help.
Vendra turned on her heel and ran from the cafeteria, leaving the Markazians to blink after her in surprise.
When they realized what she'd done, they gave chase, but now she had a head start.
The lead she had on them bought her time, but Vendra was surprised when they didn't catch up to her in an instant. She realized that she was running faster somehow.
She felt lighter, as if she weighed nothing at all.
She ran with everything she had until she turned a corner and slammed into something that towered over her.
Vendra's head spun as she fell back to the floor. She opened one eye and though blurry vision looked up to see that it wasn't a 'thing' that she'd hit, but a person.
'Oh no,' the young Nether thought as she stared up into the perpetually irritated face of Madam Trencher.
A moment later, Brayna rounded the corner, along with several of her cohorts, but they managed to stop just short of running into the two of them.
The anger and determination drained from the Markazian childrens' faces when they saw who they'd just run into and a look of fear replaced it.
Madam Trencher was an old Argonoidian woman who seemed to hate everything, but especially children. Why she'd ended up a caretaker at Meero Orphanage, nobody knew, but right now she was Vendra's only hope.
"Madam Trencher!" Vendra shouted desperately. "Please help! They're hurting my brother!"
The old Argonoid narrowed her cyclopic eye onto the tiny child at her feet, "What'sssss thisssss?" she hissed in her cold, snake-like voice.
The Markazian children all gulped in terror. They knew what kind of suffering awaited them if Trencher found out what they'd done.
But Brayna held her composure, "The Progs were stealing food," she countered immediately. "We were just trying to get it back when the little 'witch' here attacked us. We were only trying to defend ourselves."
Timidly, the other children mumbled their support for their leader, echoing her claims, but not willing to look the woman in the eye.
Vendra's anger flared, "That's a lie!" she shouted at the Markazian girl. "You stole our food first!"
"Issssss there any proof?" Trencher asked. Her voice sounded irritated and everyone knew they all walked on thin ice.
Her cyclopic eye passed from Brayna back to Vendra and the young Nether realized she was talking to both of them.
"W-well I-" Vendra began, but she was cut off by Brayna.
"Yes, there is," the Markazian declared firmly.
Vendra looked surprised, but then Brayna beckoned to the two Markazian children who'd held her down and they both hobbled forward.
They were afraid of Madam Trencher, but they did as they were told and held up their injured fingers for the woman to see. The tips were raw and blistered, dotted with blackened skin, clear signs of electrical burns.
Madam Trencher's eyes flashed with anger and she turned on Vendra, "You did thissssss?!"
Vendra's eyes went wide "No, I-," she began, but she hesitated. The truth was, she didn't actually know 'what' had happened.
At the same time, the Markazian childrens' confidence was bolstered and they all began throwing their own affirmations. They claimed how the Progs had stolen their food and how Vendra had attacked them with a weapon.
"Come withsssss me, now!" Trencher ordered, her eye fixed solely on Vendra.
Vendra's heart skipped a beat. She knew how dire her situation was and she felt a panic coming on, but she at least needed to save Neftin.
"But my brother-"
With the speed of a striking snake, Madam Trencher's tentacle of an arm shot out from her side and wrapped itself around Vendra's neck, silencing her before lifting the young Nether into the air with ease. Madam Trencher would tolerate no disobedience.
"Go back to the cafeteria," the old Argonoid ordered the Markazian children. "I'll deal withsss thissss one."
Vendra clawed at the choking tentacle around her throat, but Trencher barely noticed the child's struggle for air as she turned and made her way down the corridor.
As Vendra's mind fought to comprehend how she'd ended up like this, the young Nether caught a glimpse of Brayna's face and the wicked sneer of satisfaction plastered all over it. And then she was gone.
The peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceiling of the Meero Orphanage flashed across Vendra's blurred vision as she was carried further into its depths.
So many things raced through the young Nether's head. Everything that had happened in the past few minutes, from the time she'd eagerly waited to receive her dinner to now, but she had neither the time nor the oxygen to process any of them.
It was only when Madam Trencher had come to stop in front of an old, rusted-metal door and loosened her grip, that Vendra finally got oxygen to her brain and realized where she was.
Her tiny body was immediately filled with dread.
Trencher waved her free tentacle over the control panel and the door began to creak open.
The moment it did, a gust of freezing air rushed out of the opening, making the young Nether's skin pucker in an instant.
Meero Orphanage was powered by an old, outdated, and obsolete power generator that was prone to overheating. Rather than purchasing a replacement or an upgrade for it, the orphanage overseers instead used a cheap nitrogen cooling system to keep it under control.
The 'freezer', the area where the chilled nitrogen tanks were stored, also had another name to the children of Meero… 'detention'.
Some sadistic teachers had apparently realized the thick insulated walls were perfect for keeping a naughty child (or any sounds they might make) from escaping.
The moment the door was fully open, Madam Trencher unceremoniously tossed Vendra's tiny form into the freezing darkness.
The young orphan gasped as she breathed without restriction, but she immediately choked and coughed on it when the icy air burned her lungs.
"You've been a ttttthorn in my sssssside ever sssssince you arrived, Prog," Trencher hissed as her singular eye narrowed with scorn. "Never playing Nicssssse with the other children. Perhapsssssss you need to be put on icesssss."
And without another word, the Argonodian woman waved her hand over the control panel once more and the door began to close.
Vendra fought to get up on the icy floor as the only source of light began to shrink away, "N-n… no…" she wheezed in a voice that could barely make it out of her chilled throat.
'I can't be thrown in detention now,' she thought fearfully. 'I have to help Neftin!'
The young Nether tried to push herself to her feet, but the moment her bare hand touched the cold metal floor, she could feel her skin freeze over and pain run up her arm.
The shivering started and her vision blurred again. The frosted room began to waver and melt.
Desperately she tried to get up again, this time making sure to keep what little fabric that made up her tattered clothing between her skin and any surface.
Vendra managed to get her knees under her and she shakily raised her head… but it was too late.
The young orphaned Nether watched fearfully as the last shaft of light disappeared with a sharp, metallic clang that felt as empty and harsh as everything else did.
Vendra was left completely alone and in total darkness. Despite everything that had happened to her, the only thing she could feel... was the cold.
Vendra sat bolt upright in her bed, throwing her thin blanket and hard pillow to the floor as she did so.
Desperately she gulped down warm air as if she hadn't tasted it for days. Her heart pounded in her chest and cold sweat coated her body, making the orange prison gown she wore cling tightly to her skin. Her eyes darted around, frantic and wild, unsure of what was happening, and full of fear.
It took a while for the distraught Nether to finally realize where she was and as she scanned the small, nearly empty, and extremely familiar detention cell interior, her heart rate slowed and her breathing returned to normal.
Once she'd calmed down, Vendra swallowed hard and shook her head, 'Another dream,' she thought bitterly.
They were becoming more frequent lately and they always seemed to end the same way.
To a prisoner inside a prison cell, where the walls and scenery never changed, one might think that their dreams would be the only true escape from their bland existence.
But for Vendra Prog, her 'dreams' were the real prison.
Vendra let out a long sigh as she lay back in bed and turned to face the wall it was bolted to. She wondered if perhaps this was Karma's way of telling her that there really was no rest for the wicked.
Ratchet watched Vendra turn away from the camera on the holo-monitor in the female low-security wing's control room.
"You sure you want to do this?" asked the Warden for the eighth time. "You of all people know how dangerous she can be."
"If she's so dangerous, why is she in the low-security wing?" Ratchet questioned, ignoring the warden's concern and voicing his own. After all, the Lombax 'did' know just how dangerous she was.
The Warden let out a small chuckle, "Oh, she's harmless the way she is now. See that collar there?" the prison overseer asked, before reaching forward and tapping the holo-monitor where Vendra's neck was.
Ratchet hadn't noticed it at first, but now he could clearly make out the heavy, metallic collar that ringed the prisoner's neck. From it, a single wire snaked up and plugged into the base of Vendra's skull at the point where the spinal cord met the brain.
"It's a psychic inhibitor," the warden explained proudly. "Took us six months to design. Much more efficient and 'humane' compared to that massive energy stasis field you had to keep her in before. If she so much as tries to bend a spoon with those witch powers of hers, that collar will fry her brain… or just disorient her so she can't use 'em. Whatever it's set to. Her brother might be a model prisoner, but he's still a big bruiser. Without her powers, though, little Vendra here is no more dangerous than a jawless gadgebot."
Ratchet wasn't sure he liked the glee with which the warden described the collar's function, but he hated to admit how much of a comfort it was to hear.
"I'm sure," the Lombax said at last, answering the warden's question for the final time. "Take me to her cell."
Vendra heard the familiar sound of her cell door opening and the footsteps of a guard entering.
She was a little surprised to hear them, as she was fairly certain that mealtime wasn't for at least another few hours. Then again, time had lost all meaning to her since she'd been imprisoned.
"I'm not hungry," she grumbled, wanting nothing more at this moment than to be left alone.
"Maybe not, but I've got something for you to chew on anyway," Ratchet replied.
Vendra continued to stare at the wall, this time with a confused expression.
She had recognized the voice immediately, but she couldn't believe her own ears. Thinking that she'd finally gone insane, the exhausted Nether sat up in her bed and turned to face the sound's origin. She eyed her guest with incomprehension.
Ratchet stood straight and wore a neutral expression, but now that he could see Vendra's face up close, he immediately understood what Neftin had been talking about.
Vendra looked gaunt and tired. There were bags under her eyes that hinted at her lack of sleep and the dazed look that she gave him - as if she couldn't figure out if he were real or not - was deeply unsettling. The former-villain wasn't the only one who couldn't believe that the person they were looking at was real.
The whole thing came as a shock to Ratchet. He had watched Vendra, twisted and insane, as she'd overwhelmed him with her incredible powers. He'd watched her as she casually unleashed the horrors of another dimension onto the galaxy. He'd even watched as she coldly murdered his friends. Seeing her like this… it was almost like looking at a different person.
But then recognition finally showed in Vendra's features and life suddenly seemed to pour back into her face. Her jaw tightened and her snake-like eyes became cold slits.
"You…" she hissed quietly. "What are you doing here, Hero?! Come to gloat? Come to look upon the heinous 'villain' that you vanquished?"
Ratchet was still a little taken aback by the juxtaposition of the Vendra in his head and the one in front of him, but he knew that this blatant hostility was to be expected. Pleasantries would do him little good, so he decided to cut to the point.
"I need your help," he stated simply.
In an instant, much of the anger and hatred faded from Vendra's face, replaced by a look of disbelief.
Then a smile curled her thin lips, "Is this a joke?" she laughed, clearly thinking it couldn't be anything else. "The great and mighty hero, savior of three galaxies, banisher of the Nethers, and punisher of the dastardly Progs wants 'my' help?"
Vendra continued to laugh. It was a wicked display of mirth that bordered on a cackle. The sound was jarring and Ratchet had to wonder if maybe Neftin had been too late and that his sister was already gone.
As she shook with laughter, Vendra laid back down in her bed, pulling her thin blanket around her as if to go back to sleep.
"Hahaha, I must still be having another nightmare," she smirked as her fit slowed. "At least this is a new one."
Ratchet waited patiently for Vendra to stop laughing before he continued, "Snarg found the Surinox Shard."
Vendra visibly stiffened at the words.
Slowly, she rose back up and eyed Ratchet. She was silent now. There was no sign of the humor that had been there before.
Seeing that he had her attention, Ratchet continued, "He found the shard that you sent him after, but with his employers 'indisposed', he appears to be trying to use it for himself. Whether he plans to dimension hop or recreate the Helios Project, I don't know, but I need your help cleaning up 'your' mess."
Comprehension dawned on Vendra's features and it was clear from the look on her face that she now understood the reality of the situation. Ratchet could even see the cogs turning inside the space witch's twisted mind.
She could easily deduce that her value was in her ability to sense a Surinox Shard and her knowledge of the targeted criminal, but she probably assumed he didn't know about her abilities.
Again Ratchet waited patiently.
"What's in it for me?" she said at last in a skeptically cautious tone.
Ratchet shrugged, "Standard 'Community Service' criminal clause: a reduced prison sentence for service rendered on behalf of galactic society."
"Ha!" Vendra laughed again, but it was in a completely different way from before. "I'm serving over a dozen life sentences! Four of them 'just' for kidnapping that balloon-headed windbag, Pollyx! Are you telling me that if I find this stupid piece of rock for you that you can just… wipe that away?"
Ratchet didn't meet her gaze, he knew that no amount of community service could pay back Vendra's debt to society, and even if it could, he knew that Pollyx had some pretty powerful friends in the Galactic government. It was how she'd gotten four life sentences just for a kidnapping charge. Pompous windbag though he was, that Terachnoid would never allow Vendra to go free and risk her retaliating against him.
"How about amenities," Ratchet offered next. "The Polaris Defense Force could pay you for your services and even authorize a few 'homely' additions to your cell."
Vendra looked at the Lombax with a raised eyebrow, "Homely?" she repeated.
Ratchet looked around the room for emphasis, "You could get some holo-vision hooked up, quality pay-per-view channels, better rations, maybe some limited access to the holo-net…" his gaze halted on the small metal ring in the corner, "A real toilet."
Vendra looked at the 'toilet' disdainfully and Ratchet could tell she was actually considering his offer now, "We could also allow you direct, monitored contact with your brother," he added. "I know he's-"
"Neftin?!" Vendra snapped suddenly, stopping Ratchet short. "What does he have to do with this?"
The look in Vendra's eyes at the mention of her brother was difficult to place. In anyone else, he would have sworn he saw... fear? Maybe even guilt, but it was hard to believe he was seeing either in the features of Vendra Prog.
"I spoke with him already," Ratchet explained in a calming tone, lest he trigger another outburst. "He's the one who suggested I come to you for help."
Realization seemed to seep into the young Nether's face and her mood relaxed, "Why don't you get him to help you?" she asked. "He knows Snarg better than I do. Nef's the one that hired him and sent him on the shard's trail. Besides, Neftin's sentence is a fraction of mine, he actually has a chance of seeing starlight again."
Ratchet slowly shook his head, "He's already refused. He says either I get you or no Prog."
Anger suddenly blazed in Vendra's eyes, almost causing Ratchet to flinch on reflex, "And I bet he told you 'why' I'd be so valuable?" she demanded.
Ratchet swallowed and nodded, "He… Neftin said that you can 'sense' the shards."
The smaller Prog sibling angrily wrenched her pillow from where it lay on her bed and clutched it tight to her chest, digging her fingers in so deeply that it looked ready to rip.
"That overgrown ignoramus!" she growled. "He's still only trying to help me when he should just leave me alone and worry about himself!"
Again, Ratchet was patient and again he waited for her to calm down.
Eventually, Vendra's expression changed from one of anger to thoughtfulness.
She looked back at Ratchet curiously, "My 'reward'," she began, "for helping you… you could give it to Nef instead?"
Ratchet was surprised by the question. He wasn't expecting to ever see 'Vendra Prog' think of anyone but herself.
But yet again the Lombax shook his head, "No. I can't. Part of the reason we can take time off of a sentence for someone who helps is that it shows they're 'reformed' in some way. Otherwise, any heartless criminal can be set free if enough people pitch in. I've already put in a request that your brother's sentence get lightened for the information he gave on Snarg, but unless he leaves here and does the legwork himself, I can't do any more than that."
Vendra's shoulders slumped and she fell back against the wall.
Ratchet could see the disappointment in her expression and was discomforted by the odd look of defeat in her eyes.
He could also feel her willingness to help find the shard slipping away.
"You could still earn a few amenities that could help you both," Ratchet pressed, starting to feel a bit desperate now. "Even if you can't lighten your brother's sentence, I can at least guarantee that you'll be permitted direct communication with him."
Vendra looked at Ratchet again, her eyes still carrying that hint of guilt that looked so out of place on her, "I don't deserve to see Nef again," she muttered quietly.
Ratchet could tell that she hadn't meant for him to hear those words, but his Lombax ears picked them up clearly enough.
"Maybe not," he agreed coldly, catching her by surprise, "But he wants to see you."
Ratchet's tone softened, "Vendra, please. Your brother is worried and he wants to know you're alright. Plus, you could do a lot of good. Maybe… maybe even help right some of the wrongs you've done."
Vendra was silent for a long time. Her gaze never reached Ratchet's as she considered her options.
Ratchet didn't know what had eventually enticed her: the chance to make right her mistakes, or the part about her brother, or maybe a bit of both, but eventually, she slid off her bed and stood up straight.
"Very well, Hero," she said at last. "I'll help you find your shard."
AN: Insomniac never named the major inhabitants of the Zarkov Sector, of which Mayor Gumblebrick was a member, so I simply called them Weeblesnogs after the main city in the game. You can look around ItN and find a poster and statue of Gumblebrick, revealing a barreled chest and face tentacles like a mustache. Everything else is kept intentionally vague. I considered not having the species in the story, but it seemed like Yerik was heavily inhabited by them (considering one was their mayor) so it only made sense that there would be orphans from them as well.
AN+: New Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart Gameplay! Everything looks so good that I couldn't resist posting a new chapter to both honor and leech off the hype.
Also, don't forget to check out ArtofZombiy on DeviantArt. They recently finished a commission of the Tough Nuts from my Days Past series.