Notes: Sorry for the long update. This chapter was tricky to lay out for some reason.
Please Enjoy! Would love to hear what you think thus far, your comments have been a true inspiration. :)
~ Rue
Three years 7 months (April)
New construction erupted at the edge of D10's borders. And by the end of April a permanent section made specifically for non-human resources was made available. Desmond had yet to go, and like most residents he was wary.
Meanwhile, Oliver's engagement with Kelsey seemed to increase to Christopher's chagrin.
The straight-forward youth, respectful of Christopher seemed to weigh Oliver's companionship over the subtle warning signs from the adult.
He would wait for Oliver to finish lessons, wait for him during the times he'd go to one of the other tents to teach the youngsters.
"Don't worry." Oliver said to his father.
"We're only friends."
He hugged his father, and nuzzled him briefly before walking away and joining his friend.
Desmond wanted to ignore it. Not like it was any of his business what transpired between father and son. But he was curious, and Desmond's curiosity often out won restraint.
"What's wrong with Kelsey anyways?"
"Nothing is wrong with Kelsey."
"So…?"
Christopher paused as he checked Oliver's notebook: going over his son's processes, evaluating the answers and making new problems. He lifted his gaze in a very serious expression.
"The youth here don't understand our ways. What they were before we came to this planet. Oliver would have found more friends in his caste. He would have rarely befriended so many workers."
The prawn sighed quietly and continued.
"I don't entirely disapprove. There are only a few like us, and friendship is pleasant. But Oliver is rare, he's valuable. Many will want to court him."
"Hm…" It seemed unfair.
"What about you?" Wikus commented, "You haven't taken anyone, and they don't seem to bother you."
"They know better, and I've set my boundaries. Oliver is young, and he must be careful."
Christopher regarded the notebook again. His eyes seemed to rest on the surface of the pages.
"The breeding season is only a few months from now. He does not need distractions."
"But they know you're his father. And Oliver's smart."
"That will not stop everyone."
Christopher went back to editing the notebook.
Desmond gaze drifted to Theo in the nest, napping. The little thing had been upset that night. Perhaps nightmares of boogey men in white MNU combat gear, without eyes, without faces and expressions.
The whole ordeal seemed to test every frayed nerve inside of him.
Theo at least, found comfort by cuddling up beside him. A hug, some nuzzles, pressing his little body closer as if he wanted all of Desmond to himself. These simplicities did not provide relief for the little one that night.
He recalled how he desperately rocked the child in his arms, up on his knees. But the child's eyes remained open with an uneasiness he could not calm.
Desmond had been angry, confused. The screeches stung his antennae. He could not escape the child's inconsolable cries. He had felt like crying too at one point.
It must have been sometime in the night when the child finally quieted. Beyond that, he'd listened to the child's constant thrum and intermittent clicks. Lying against his chest awake until the sun came up.
Desmond crawled over to the nest then. Found a place with his back to Theo, and fell asleep to oblivion; far from the thoughts of Oliver and his friend, of prawn caste customs and the child mere inches away.
Desmond startled awake when Oliver came back.
The light was already dim, the tents casting long shadows as the sun set.
"Oliver." The boy sat down and glanced at his father. He trilled in return.
"I would like it if you came home before it gets dark."
He lowered his head and nodded.
Desmond shook his head briefly, and rubbed his eyes with his palms.
"How was your day kid?"
"It was alright."
The little one lunged after Oliver's back. That ruckus clack and rolls of vocals screeched into the air as Oliver tried to shake him off. But the child was determined to hold on, and climbed up to lean his head against Oliver's shoulder.
"You're still full of energy." Oliver laughed.
Theo pushed his face close to him, and nuzzled with a purr.
Oliver, instantly smiling, purred back.
"Desmond... I want you to come with me, to a meeting," Christopher clicked.
"What?"
"I would like it if you came with me."
Desmond just stared at him.
Christopher appeared neutral as ever, except for the quiet release of air huffed into the air.
"I needed the day to think it over. And you were asleep… But I believe it would be in our best interests."
"Where, who and why?" He snapped back.
"Section G. The remaining elders, some of our remaining intellectuals and the Yuk'ush's leader will be present. We need to set plans for the future."
"By future, you mean our… indefinite stay here." He snorted.
Christopher seemed to tense. The prawn pulled his gaze away with a heavy and sharp frown.
Desmond sighed, "You really want my help?"
Christopher did not meet his eyes, "Have you made your decision?"
Desmond's gaze drifted, and stared at his alien feet for a minute. With a sharp intake of air and the subsequent breath out he squinted up at Christopher. The sun had just poked through the opening and was partially blinding him.
"I won't be helpful Chris. I really won't."
"Very well…" The prawn grunted as he stood up.
"No. I mean I'll go. I'll go because you think I should. Okay?"
"We might have to stay the night to avoid suspicion."
Desmond frowned.
"Why?"
"They set more cameras inside the district. It is possible that they will be keeping an eye on movements."
Oliver got up with Theo in his hands.
Desmond reluctantly stood and followed.
Christopher paused to face Oliver, "Stewart will stay with you and Theo. So will Samuel."
Oliver nodded. He gave his father a quick hug and nuzzled before they left. He gave Desmond a small smile, as Theo whimpered in protest.
With a sordid relief, he looked ahead.
As they made their way, Desmond could feel their gazes crawl underneath his hard shell.
Curiosity, he thought.
Even in this low light, the prawns knew who led him.
At that moment he was having trouble keeping up with Christopher.
"Hold up, hey?" He huffed, "I didn't mean that. What I said about the future, it just… you know I say things before thinking. Yeah?"
Christopher ignored him. The prawn merely slowed his pace for the shorter hybrid.
"You're not talking now?" Desmond was trying hard not to be fowl.
"This isn't the time." Christopher responded in a clipped tone. He went on, "You will be there as an observer. There will be times for you to speak up."
"… when?"
"There will be pauses. And you may be called on. Just speak as you would normally."
Desmond nodded. For the rest of their trip, threading in and out of sections they were received in what looked like a simple fabric tent.
He followed after Christopher, nodding to the group that was already there, and took a seat beside Christopher.
They talked quietly amongst themselves, until the Yuk'ush leader arrived. The tent became hushed, except for what appeared and felt like the more senior, elite members.
Desmond had forgotten his name. But the prawn immediately reminded him of Nik. Simply in the way he carried himself. Poised with intention and brooding with an air of secrecy.
The Yuk'ush leader passed his eyes over the group, and nodded stiffly before taking a seat. Two other gang members sat down behind him.
Desmond had been grateful for the space between himself and the gang leader. It was already cramped in the tent.
A few others joined, standing outside of the precipice before someone called their attention.
To his surprise there were no objections. And silence held them.
"Greetings… I am Que'vrru. As some of you have been told, efforts to contact our homeland have been made. Christopher?"
He nodded and started to speak, "I was unable to contact anyone. I went ahead, increased our signal with information on our coordinates and situation. The signal itself should have a global affect."
He paused momentarily.
"Throughout that process I received the last recorded logs of the Mothership from our home world."
A frown started to develop on his features.
"They received a message indicating that a pathogen of some sort had made its way onto our planet. Foreign, suspected to be engineered, and designed to cut down our highest levels of order."
The gang leader grunted, and narrowed his eyes.
"We're on our own."
This news was heavy on Desmond. He seemed immediately transported from the meeting, into a distant, out of body realization and continued to watch the meeting behind this veil.
Que'vrru's voice picked up again.
"We need a face to engage the humans. Another human organization has extended its help to us, by way of the main resource hub. The United Nations."
A murmuring seemed to agree with this thought. A face they said, not a leader.
"Include the press." Desmond had barely registered his own prawn voice. And by then he could notice every other pair of eyes pinpointed towards his person. He lifted his timid gaze to Que'vrru, secondary arms giving away his anxiety as they shuffled.
"The reporters and journalists; anyone, and I bet you there'll be a lot of people who will want to hear our side of the story." It was hard not to notice the impatient cues; he required more time to sound out the words when he spoke.
"For the sake of gathering sympathy from the humans? That option has already been exhausted. And it changed nothing. Our suffering does not move these people into action."
"Perhaps, but Christopher mentioned that the signal would cause disturbances throughout the planet. Right? They can't ignore us now, depending on… what they've noticed these past months. The whole world will be able to see, to look, to understand and move."
Que'vrru did not look convinced. He looked to the others, among them Christopher.
"We have human allies." Someone mentioned.
"They could help us with how to spread our message." Christopher added.
"Without some kind of assistance, we will continue to be controlled and monitored by the MNU. Perhaps the UN can offer us a solution," said Que'vrru.
Desmond wasn't so sure about that. Things were always happening in the world; neglected conflicts, hidden until the violence would escalate to an alarming, exponential rate of chaos. Nations, either reluctant or willing, depending on so many factors and variables; hidden, or made transparent. Moral codes aside, they had nothing to offer because the prawns appeared clueless and lost. All they had were their weapons, and a world of higher technologies; lost to their apparent stupidity and lack of will power.
'A face' might set something in motion.
But what kind of security would MNU offer them?
Did they not crave for the prawn's powers?
He could hear them thinking it out amongst themselves. Why hadn't the UN stepped up before the mistreatment caused by MNU? Would the media be controlled, censored? How could they be certain that the world was hearing as much of the real story as possible?
What about the people? Would they suffer more because of their involvement?
It came down to one thing at a time. Que'vrru quieted them; he insisted that they determine 'a face' first.
"Who should we nominate?"
.
.
.
... (to be continued)!