[Author's Note: Thank you to all the kind reviewers out there! I have been steadily working on this for a while and do apologize for the lengthy wait. I'm still not happy with it and may end up doing a rewrite, but I did want to update so you all wouldn't have to wait any longer!]
The woman looked so much like her. Dressed in green, red hair falling softly about a face so intense it intimidated her to no end. The eyes were what did it, the same and yet different. There was an authority in them she could never hope to match. As much as they looked alike, whoever this was, she knew with a certainty it was not herself she was looking at- and it never would be.
Yet the woman only smiled as their consciousness seemed to overlap. Emotions and urgings touched on her mind more powerfully than words could. The silence between them became a strange conversation as they gazed upon one another. She shrunk back finally, not sure what to think or feel at the power of it and how right it seemed to have this woman nearby. Unmistakably sensing her alarm, the woman receded from her mind, letting her go with an acceptance and care she had never known. Instinctively she knew, this woman was aware of every part of her...and she was okay with it. The thought struck her like a load of ferrocrete.
She awoke violently, halfway across the small room in a straight line for the doorway before she realized the dream was gone, replaced by cold and austere reality. Though prepared for it, the pain overtook her almost immediately, barely making it to the fresher to empty the contents of her stomach. Hands shaking, she gripped the washbasin so hard her knuckles ached. For a long series of moments, the only sound was of her deep breathing, calming herself and pushing the memory of those intense eyes once more into the back of her mind behind a carefully constructed wall.
Eyes rose to meet their own reflection, a steady green gaze surveying the wreckage of a life of unending difficulty written across her skin like a map. Every scar was a reminder of the life she'd known, a punctuation of a particular failure just minor enough to survive. The corner of her mouth quirked in a half limp encouraging smile, the only emotion she let shine through even for herself. The first reaches of brilliant blue light were peaking through the windows of the bedroom behind her...she'd made it through another night...
"Mora!" a harsh voice barked from the craggy face of the muscled mass by the door as she entered the round office, the doors sliding closed and locking in place behind her with a soft beep.
"You're late!" the growling hulk in black uniform continued as she waved him off with an empty apology.
Yet this was it, the world as she knew it. A durasteel gated building, sparsely decorated with various awards and framed news clippings. Her muscular friend guarded the door with a slighter, taller companion, blasters and clubs holstered on either hip, military grade vibroshivs in a strap on the thigh of their matching black jumpsuit covered legs. Mora too, was outfitted identically, the red and blue bars of a ranking official pinned directly under the symbol of a stylized sun embroidered in white thread. Her laced boots squeaked loudly as she trekked across the stone floor, nodding to the various employees seated behind their ragged and disorganized desks, faces peaking out from between stacks of flimsi.
This day marked ten years since the morning she'd presented the buyer's fee that procured her own freedom. She'd paid another price that day as well, one she refused to speak of... though the ropey scar that traveled from one ear, across her cheek, down her neck and disappeared into the cleavage she was careful to keep covered did all the talking for her. Money didn't buy everything.
The scourge of the arena, the unequivocal gifted youth who never lost, no matter what it took That had been her title, her calling card. Every luxury that could be afforded, she had. Still, her fame and endless string of victories had not been enough to afford her a life free from slavery. She'd had to manage that herself. In retrospect, the glory she'd known as a slave was triple that a freed man enjoyed. Then again, money didn't buy everything.
And the sort of work she did now mattered. By killing, apprehending or saving, every life she touched was for a purpose- not simply entertainment. That in and of itself made every long night worth it. Her clipped stride took her into a small office where behind yet another flat black veneered desk sat a balding man with a black mustache. His uniform, grey instead of black, held far more bars of red than hers, his collar dotted with gold buttons. Intelligent violet eyes regarded her calmly from behind a cup of caf, his mood steady and apparent, even without meeting his penetrating gaze. She smiled calmly back as she lowered herself into a creaking chair.
"Sorry Millet, I came as fast as I could which if you've noticed, sets a new record."
Millet put down the cup, hair covered knuckles releasing their careful grip on the handle before knitting together as he leaned forward.
"A record for nearly being on time is not the same as actually being on time Besk."
Inwardly, Mora cringed. Another lecture on the importance of punctuality was not how she wanted the already painful morning to begin.. Yet as it so happened, neither did Millet.
"-no matter, a note has gone into your annual file. You will be docked your review bonus, not that you anticipated getting one. That isn't why I called you here."
A scarlet brow rose, contrasting oddly with the poorly dyed dark brown strands hanging down in wisping tendrils from the hastily tied bun atop her head. She leaned back in the chair, bare arms crossing in a look that would have intimidated lesser beings, Millet included. As a security operative however, he was adept at reading not only suspects, but his own men. Intimidating though she appeared, he suspected there was far more soft than hard beneath the act. Just like any other woman, no matter her infamous beginnings. As such, he continued with ease in spite of her aggressive body language.
"You're being transferred-"
"What?"
He raised both meaty hands, his expression pleading as he rose from his chair.
"Don't start Mora. You're the best for the job so I suggested you."
"Suggested me for what, Neg?"
He sighed, a large hand passing over the sun wrinkled skin of his forehead and nose.
"Survey teams have been assigned to find appropriate camp sites for the evacuees from Porla."
Mora blinked, hardly surprised by the news. In fact, if anything, she'd been waiting a long while for just this sort of announcement. A super volcano entity on the southern most continent had been threatening eruption for the last ten solar cycles. Slowly seismic activity had multiplied until several dormant cinder cones had begun spewing ash clouds large enough to effect the health of the continent's population. For the past three months evacuation had been discussed by both governments without arriving at a mutual consensus. At the expense of innocent lives, she thought grimly. Yet in the end, what all this failed to acknowledge, was that Mora was not a scientist.
"...Neg, I'm a city security operative. I don't study rocks."
"No, you shake up criminals...and you're good at it. The wildlife where you're headed is big and bound to be hungry. Half the scientists in your team have never even touched a blaster. Admit it, the job screams for someone like you. You're a predator, who better to hunt predators?"
The nausea that came was so sudden she nearly doubled over. The words echoed in her head as she gulped hard and her vision swam. She blinked again rapidly, jaw tight as she nodded, willing the immediate need for a refuse bin away.
"You're right Millet. It sounds perfect. I needed a vacation."
"I'll pretend that was sincere."
"You do that."
She rose, adjusting the weapons holsters out of habit, hands resting on either side, just above the weapons. Neg took the moment to watch her closely, wondering to himself not for the first time what it must be like inside her head. Cold and sarcastic, her smiles were rare...and often reserved for the moment after beating an unusually nasty criminal into submission. He'd seen her fight in the arena once, years ago. She'd been the same then, even as a kid. Unapologetic, stubborn, almost cruel.
She'd faced three opponents at once that day, all at least twice her size with decades more experience behind them. One had taken out her weapon early into the fight and she'd been forced to kill them all with only her hands, which had been bound to make it interesting. He'd been disgusted by the gesture at first, one restrained girl against three grown men. He'd thought their society had taken a step backward in barbarism...until she'd started moving.
The first man went down within ten minutes, neck snapping as she managed to knock him to his knees and get a hold of his chin with a hard yank. The view screen had magnified her face in that moment and he could remember it so clearly. The unnatural green of her eyes had seemed smokey, swimming with an expression he hadn't understood. It made his blood run cold, even while the throng of spectators leapt to their feet in adulation...
"Was there something else, Sir?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
"No, they need you packed and ready by o-three hundred. Don't be late."
Her eyes narrowed and he knew she was battling against making some kind of insubordinate retort. He held back his smile, baiting her with a polite silence. Her discipline won out and she simply nodded, saluting before she turned and exited, feeling his eyes intent upon her as she did. She nodded once more to her colleagues as she left the building and stepped out onto the paved street. The pedways were smooth from wear, black and hot in the brilliant mid morning light. All around her, Dark haired, pale skinned individuals milled about in the quiet and polite way that was common to the Krell. Freckled, green eyed and rosy skinned, Mora stood out like a sore thumb. Still, no one stared. Polite though they were, not a one had forgotten what she had been...and what she had felt forced to accomplish.
Ten years prior she had bought her freedom at great personal cost, yet it was not her greatest claim to fame. That had come after. Scarred and tormented by a life spent forced to kill, she had become an activist. The first of her kind to gain freedom, she had set in motion a movement that six years to the month had finally succeeded. Mora Besk, the lowly Liuetenant of Quarrel City Security had gained the title of Abolitionist. Six years ago, Mora had helped in the systematic assassination of every ranking member in the slave trade until no one brave enough to take their place remained. It was just the sort of thing a blood thirsty, wealthy population couldn't, and simply wouldn't forget.
After two years suspension without pay, Mora had returned to her job as a cadet, working her way up the ladder once again. Until the moment Millet announced her transfer, she'd dared to believe her lawless past had been forgiven. Now it seemed she'd taken another step back, forced to prove yet again that her priorities were the same as the government she worked for. A government she still didn't like or trust...though she and most of the Krell had that in common.
The building she stopped in front of didn't look like much. Near the outer circle of the officials district, the ferrocrete was studded intermittently with patches of thorn covered vines producing brilliant yellow flowers. The double grand doors were of a highly polished wood, a plaque with the emblem of sciences emblazoned in a bronze alloy upon both panels. She pushed one open, the archaic hinges squealing in protest as she stepped into the well cooled atrium.
She was halfway to the main information desk when a petite woman in an attractive knee length dress stopped her. The woman's high cheek bones and arched brows signified her aristocratic heritage, her glossy black hair piled into an intricate bun that made Mora's seem like it hadn't so much as seen a comb in comparison. Her violet eyes took Mora in from head to toe before she sniffed in indignation, her lips pursed in a well restrained sneer.
"Mora Besk, I presume? I am Dr. Turali Encrom, the director of this particular mission. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the briefing underway."
Mora nodded, falling in step behind the woman, whose precariously high heeled shoes clicked loudly upon the polished quartzite floor.
"I thought I was supposed to be here at o-three hundred?" Mora asked, annoyed that it appeared she was late even when she'd made sure to arrive an hour early.
"You were. You're early, so you might as well sit in with the scientists in your team, learn what we're looking for. Maybe you'll be of more use than just muscle, your file says you're unusually smart for your field. I admit I was a little surprised you didn't go into politics, given your history."
Mora's stomach plummeted. With a hard swallow, she bit the inside of her cheek to restrain herself.
"I prefer a more direct approach." she answered, hoping it was diplomatic enough to placate the woman.
The doctor didn't break her stride as they ascended a spiraling stair leading toward the offices on the second level. Her voice however, was dripping with an odd amusement when she answered a moment later.
"Clearly."
The meeting continued in relative awkwardness until their departure, Mora relegated to manual labor, helping the rest of the security team load the speeders while the scientists huddled together in congenial conversation. Mora amused herself by eavesdropping, something she'd always excelled at. In so doing she'd learned that Dr. Encrom and the lower ranking, self proclaimed 'boy genius' some fifteen years her junior were notoriously flirtatious with one another. The other scientists found this fact uncomfortable, a heavy silence following every exchange. She filed this, along with the other scientists idle chatter into the background of her mind, one never knew when personal information might come in handy.
When at last the convoy was underway, speeding across the rolling grasslands to the North East of the city, the awkwardness hanging heavy over the hastily assembled group finally seemed to be dissipating. The 'boy genius' tugged at his grey collar for the fifth time in an hour in his seat beside Mora. All clad in military issue fatigue suits, Mora felt a pang of pity for the scientists who were clearly chafing at the restrictive suits more designed to protect from the elements than for comfort. She supposed lab coats must breathe better..
Three hours later the grass lands faded into boggy swamp until at last they entered a dense forest of low hanging spore branches and slime moss. The going became rather more hazardous after that, forcing the speeders into a pace so slow Mora felt more progress would have been made on foot. About to suggest this, she was relieved when at last the speeders broke free of the vegetation and into open marsh land once more. The speeder's nav system beeped as soon as they reached the tall grasses and the convoy slowed to a stop.
Mora looked around as the team unloaded cases of equipment, magnispecs held to her eyes as she collected technical data on the surrounding area- one of the few scientific tasks Dr. Encrom thought her intelligent enough for. As such, it wasn't long before the small woman approached Besk for a report.
"What have we got?" she asked, her main continent accent more apparent now that they were away from the city.
Mora resisted asking about it, knowing well enough how higher society worked in the capitol. Asking personal questions just to irk her superior would just start things off the wrong way...and more than likely result in some menial task in retribution for the impudence.
"The mineral content in the soil is off the charts just as you reported, but the equally high salt content in the water would make farming near impossible. So tell me again why they picked this spot?" Mora asked, lowering the specs to look the doctor in the eye.
The doctor's returning expression was cold, her full lips spreading into a placid smile.
"For those exact reasons Lieutenant. No one wants it, no one can use it, so the refugees can have it."
"If you already knew that then why are we here?"
The doctor's smile turned predatory, so cold and quick even Mora blinked in surprise.
"You'll see. Maintain the perimeter Lieutenant, I'll call you if you're needed again."
She wasn't needed again for the rest of the afternoon, rather suspecting her questions had rendered her useless to the doctor, whose motives now unknown, were desperately in need of further investigation. As the sun set and the green haze of dusk spilled over the camp, Mora's watch came to an end and she sought out her tent, a tiny patch of canvas on the camp's edge. Unwilling to room with another team member, she was lucky that an individual tent was procured in time for departure. Especially, the doctor had pointed out, since she was unwilling to explain why.
Sill, as head of the security team, it seemed a small enough request and one she was grateful to get. Zipping closed the entrance flap she sank immediately onto the portable pallet, ready to doze off the minute her head touched the bedroll. Several hours passed until she awoke with a start, a nightmare of fire fading into her subconscious quickly. Chest heaving she sucked in breath after breath of humid swamp air until her heart slowed. But her senses stayed alert even as her anxiety faded. Something wasn't right.
She rose silently, clipping on her belt and strapping in her weapons. Sticking to the shadows, she made a perimeter around the camp, nodding soundlessly to the sentries on watch. Nothing. Yet still, something tugged at her, like she was missing something important. For a long while she stood at the camp's edge, looking out over the pitch black of the rolling grasses, listening to the sound of the wind whipping through them. After a moment's deliberation and the growing urge mounting within her mind to head east, she sprang forward.
Running, though she didn't know why, she made good time through the soggy conditions, heading directly back into the swamp. There came a time in her running when she became distantly aware of a memory of the ground she was crossing. A low overhang in the rocks caught her eye and she had the distinct feeling she had once spent the night there. A cold chill settled along her spine, getting worse with every step she took until tears streamed openly down her face.
The memory played out like a holovid, a little scarlet haired girl running naked through the underbrush, her legs scraped and chafed, her bare feet raw and bleeding. She huddled in the outcropping, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked about with vivid emerald eyes. A large vulpine creature she now knew as a Nerax circled the area outside of the small grotto, the child not knowing she'd taken the animal's home. Growling it swiped at her in a territorial gesture and the child cried out, running yet again as the acidic rain began to fall and sting at her skin. She'd been found in the edges of this very swamp, half starved, scarred and diseased after drinking the fetid water.
Mora sniffed loudly, realizing at last that she was crying. Wiping at the tears angrily she began walking, stomping loudly through the underbrush back toward camp. It took her a short time to realize she was heading in the wrong direction and she stopped, trying to gain her bearings only to find she didn't recognize the area at all. They hadn't passed this way during daylight. Panic flickered and she shoved it down. She was a police woman, she could find her way to headquarters in a blackout. This should be easy.
She had just turned back in what she assumed was the correct direction when the first of the explosions sounded. She turned, a large orange cloud rising high into the vista of stars, lighting the surrounding area for nearly a mile. The wave hit shortly afterward, an intense heat that drove the air from her lungs mixed with the unmistakable stench of burning flesh. Eyes wide, she did the only thing she felt compelled to do. She ran toward it at hazardous speed.
Strange feelings hurtled toward her the closer she got, assaulting her like an unwanted physical touch in the deepest reaches of her awareness. Goosebumps rose on her skin, her blood tingling with a dread she couldn't explain as even in the growing light of the nearby explosions, everything seemed to only become steadily darker. Her mind and spirit reviled against it, kicking and screaming inwardly at her to turn around, but she found she could not. There was something, or someone, pulling her toward the fire. She needed to be there, she had to be.
Her boots crunched onto solid gravel as she burst into the clearing, flaming debris still falling from the sky around her in scorched patches. Across what had to have been a courtyard was the smoking remains of a bunker shaft, the hatch panels laying blown off on either side. What caught her attention was the form withdrawing from the blackness inside, helping the naked, staggering form of a woman from the wreckage toward what had to be a ship, though one unlike any other she'd ever seen. It was nearly round, a strange red color and if it was made of metal, it was not an alloy she was familiar with. A presence brushed her mind in a way she was totally unprepared for and she physically recoiled, looking around as though someone had called out her name. Finding no one, she continued looking, the presence becoming stronger until she realized it was coming from within the vessel...no...not within, the vessel itself.
'Oh Mora...you've pushed too far and done it.' she thought disparagingly, assuming without question she'd finally lost her mind.
'You have no training, that in itself is insanity.' the presence said, still within her mind and so clearly she spun and nearly slid onto her face upon the gravel.
It was only then she realized there was a person standing nearby and she looked up in alarm. A young woman stood there, her face unreadable, markings staining her pallid cheeks. Brown hair fell straight and full about her face, her eyes cold but intelligent. When she smiled, Mora noted it seemed entirely foreign. She was the woman she had seen stepping from the bunker...but where was the naked woman she had been rescuing?
"Fascinating." was all she said, and somehow it was more than enough.
Mora found herself taking careful steps backward, a mounting dread making the urge to run nearly insatiable. The woman matched her steps, pacing forward like a jungle predator. A strange sound rang out in the air as a red beam emitted from the metal pole the woman held in her hand and she pointed it at Mora with a grin far more suited for her face in it's cruelty.
"Get on the ship."
Understanding a threat when she saw one, Mora's brow furrowed in anger. Terrified and confused she most certainly was, but there was absolutely no way she was going to ignore every hostage training exercise she'd had and get on that ship with a criminal. She stood her full height, shoulders squared and her facial expression as resolute as she could manage.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, young lady." she replied, her voice surprisingly calm.
The gravel crunched behind her from the edge of the marsh grasses and the young woman seemed to stiffen, pointing the red beam over Mora's shoulder. Suddenly aware of two bodies on either side of her, Mora ached to look, but knew better than to tear her gaze from the armed woman.
"I'm inclined to agree." said a placid male voice from just behind her, the gravel continuing to shift as he moved.