Shades Of Self Chapter 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10. I don't even own a Ben 10 poster or anything. How sad is that?
Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading. It's so nice to see familiar faces now I'm back at writing. I'm so grateful for all of the reviews you send. It's wonderful that people are enjoying my story.
Yay, present day for a bit! It's been quite a while since we've had a present day chapter, so I'm sorry about that. There's just so much to write about in the past. My present day chapters tend to be shorter than my others, but you will get a new chapter soon and I'm so excited to share it!
Enjoy the return of that adorable scamp, 14 year old Ben! If you want a refresher, feel free to reread the present day chapters: chapters 1, 3 and 12.
See you at the bottom!
"My life may be harsh and full of strife, but it is the only one I have"
A common saying on the planet Crito-Ah
Present Day
The Antarasin was a bustle of activity. The recent boarding, though neutralized, had brought attention to some holes in the ship's security, which needed to be patched. Security measures were being checked and rechecked and personnel were being inspected. Engineers were going over the technical aspects of the ship to ensure that no sabotage had been attempted. It was also possible that other ships in the fleet had suffered undetected intruders, and all of the ships needed to be contacted and inspected. In addition to this, and given the status of the prisoners who had been apprehended, the warlord's forces needed to prepare for possible rescue attempts by the alliance or even an attack. The hallways were full of busy crew members inspecting every inch of the huge flagship.
Ben paced through the metal corridors purposefully. Having secured Gwen in her new cell, he was enjoying a quick patrol around the ship. It always relaxed his nerves to make sure that everything was in order and functioning properly, and his encounter with the prisoners had left him feeling somewhat unsettled.
He was a patrolling as a mira; long, cat-like body supported by six legs with padded paws. Two tails swayed slightly behind him as we walked. His fur was deep burgundy red, and large silver eyes looked languidly out of the feline face. It was good form; agile and silent, and Ben enjoyed using it for patrols. Crew members focused on what they were doing as he passed, noticing, but not acknowledging him. Ben let his eyes trail over them, searching for quickened breath, or other signs of spies, but ignoring them in turn. His sensitive nose twitched as he scented the air. Everything was as it should be, but he still felt ruffled.
He couldn't get the prisoners out of his mind. When he had noticed them creeping through the hallways, he had captured them alive because it had been possible, and they likely had information Master would want. He could only assume that they would be alive for a while longer, for that reason or others, but he couldn't help wishing Master had just let him kill them. They were occupying his thoughts and making it difficult to achieve the clarity of thoughts and emotions he usually enjoyed.
He wished they had never seen him in his human form. He felt that it had put him on the wrong foot in his interactions with them. They had known him in his previous life, and their expectations and knowledge of his was worrying. What was worse was the reaction he had Gwen when he had been escorting her to her new cell. He had spoken to her; actually responded to what she was saying. He wasn't supposed to do that. It wasn't something he had ever wanted to do before. The exchange had been brief, but that was no excuse. Ben sighed internally. He knew he would feel better once his Master ordered their deaths and this whole thing was over.
A thought trickled into his head, unbidden, that if the prisoners were valuable enough to the alliance, perhaps Master would trade them instead. Prisoners of war had been traded back and fourth several times before during the war. Ben might not need to kill them at all. He brushed the thought away, annoyed at himself. He'd learned long ago not to dwell on things he had no control over, and not to hope for the outcome he would prefer. He was happier just taking events as they came. Too much investment in things which probably wouldn't happen just made him discontented when they didn't.
Ben paused, tails flicking in frustration. He had patrolled the whole ship and yet he still felt this way, as if something were wrong, even though he knew it wasn't. His chest felt slightly tight and his mind wouldn't settle. Abruptly turning, Ben padded swiftly down the corridor, looking for the one person who could always make him feel better.
Master was deep in conversation when Ben found him, consulting with Commander Trisaara. They sat together looking over some kind of information on the screens in front of them. Ben shifted silently into a fob, small and furred with two sets of leathery wings, and perched on a light fixture to wait until they were finished.
Ben did not like Trisaara. She was fiercely loyal and an invaluable strategist, but there was something about her and the way she looked at him that always made Ben feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because she did look at him. Most of the crew members on the Antarasin did not interact with him unless necessary, which worked out fine for Ben. It didn't pay to get too attached to anyone when you never knew if they would still be there tomorrow. Trisaara was different. When she was nearby her compound eyes were frequently focused on him. She seemed to watch him with some private amusement known only to her. Of course, like everything else, Ben's feelings about this were irrelevant, so he ignored them.
Once he was settled on the light fixture, Ben focused on Master's conversation and felt his sensitive ears quiver in interest. They seemed to be discussing the alliance.
"When are you going to contact them?" Trisaara asked, antenna twitching.
"In the morning." Master's voice had an edge to it, and his tentacles hung tensely. "I'll give them some time to wonder first. They likely won't even know that the attempt failed until I tell them. You have the reports from the rest of the fleet?"
"No other intruders were found," Trisaara replied, turning on of the screens towards him. "Their crews are still inspecting the ships for infiltration signs or sabotage, but so far everything is clean." She rubbed her thorax with one long leg. "What are you going to do about the prisoners?" Ben tried not to prick up his ears again at the question.
"I am still considering." Master's tentacles lashed in dissatisfaction. "Tennyson will likely refuse to speak, and I doubt the adolescent is privy to the kind of information I need." Trisaara rubbed two of her front legs together.
"I would be happy to have a look at them if you like."
"Perhaps." Master flicked a tentacle to the side, dismissing the subject. "Do you have any news on the hunt for the informant?"
"Not yet." Trisaara's mandibles clicked together unhappily. "I am certain there is an information leak. The ship your prisoners came in on was updated with all of the latest security codes, and I can think of no other way they would have been acquired. I will continue to search until I find it."
"Good. Keep me informed." Master rose from the table and a red eye glanced Ben's way. Ben fluttered his ears in an unobtrusive greeting. Master seemed to relax a little, and held out an arm Ben alighted happily, clutching a ridge in the red armour with his leathery feet. He ignored Trisaara's eyes which had once again sought him out.
"Of course Warlord," she answered, inclining her head for a moment before returning to her screens. Master flicked a tentacle in farewell, than set off down the corridor, Ben clinging to his wrist. With relief, Ben saw that Master was heading back to his private apartments on the ship. He wondered if this was out of consideration for him, or whether Master also needed a break.
Once they arrived, Ben landed on the ground and morphed, stretching suddenly human limbs and rolling his neck. Master's tentacles rippled gently in amusement as he seated himself on a cushioned bench on one side of the room. He extended a clawed hand towards Ben and rubbed the fingers together.
"Come here, pet."
Ben smiled at the invitation and joined his Master, making himself comfortable on one large knee and leaning back against the armoured chest. Master ran one hand over Ben's head, stroking gently, and Ben closed his eyes and relaxed, finally feeling that sense of wrongness begin to dissipate. There was no room for doubts or worries when he was with his Master, only the overwhelming certainty that everything would be fine. Master was in control, and nothing else mattered. This was the only place Ben felt comfortable in his human form. His Master's were the only eyes he wanted looking at him. He let the powerful presence wash over him and sighed contentedly. Once again, everything felt right.
On the Antarasin's main bridge, Ensign Grax was desperately trying to appear calm. The arachnichimp was busy breaking down and checking over the emergency weapons for the main deck. They were stored on a rack near the back of the vast space, which gave him a nice view of the activity going on around him. The weapon inspections also gave him reason for being here if anyone noticed him. His furry tail was wrapped around one slender blue leg in an attempt to keep it from twitching nervously.
This was a very bad situation. It was his job to pass along information; nothing more, but he couldn't do that right now, not with the scrutiny the communication channels were currently undergoing. Any attempt to communicate with his contact in the alliance would be noticed immediately. Compounding this was the fact that at least part of this mess was his fault. He was the one who had told the alliance that Vilgax would be out of the way for their infiltration, only to have the warlord change his plans at the last minute. By the time he had realized that Vilgax had delayed his journey the operatives had already been captured. Grax didn't think Vilgax had suspected a security leak, but he easily might now.
Grax fingered the blaster he was currently putting back together. He would like to do something to help, but all four of his hands were tied at the moment. The fleet was on high alert, and any suspicious movements would stand out in sharp relief. He would have to wait for a while before making any kind of move, and he wasn't even sure what that should be. If it hadn't been Maxwell Tennyson who had been captured, Grax would probably have happily kept his head down and hoped that their deaths would be swift, but Max was one of the pillars of the alliance. His guidance and strategy was invaluable, especially now when Vilgax had gained so much ground. Grax grimaced. He needed to decide what to do and how much he was willing to risk, whether that was trying to get a communication out that the two humans were alive but had been captured, or trying to free them himself. He swallowed, putting the finished blaster back on its hook and selecting another.
One option was significantly riskier than the other, but neither would be possible at the moment, not while the warlord's officers were going through everything with magnifying lenses. He would need to wait for a while until everyone calmed down. Hopefully by then he would have idea of what to do. And hopefully the prisoners would still be alive.
As he had that thought, Commander Trisaara entered the bridge, striding over purposefully to speak to the officers in charge of communications. Grax cursed internally. It might mean nothing, but that was his area, and the extra scrutiny was frightening. He didn't think he had left traces, but who even knew any more. He ran a hand down his tail, smoothing the fur, not wanting it to stick out the way it did when he was frightened. He realized he was staring at the group, and pulled his eyes away.
He should leave. He would give himself away if he stayed here staring. Casually, he replaced the blaster on its rack and marched out through the door to the bridge, trying as hard as possible to look like he was following orders.
Vilgax ran his claws gently through his pet's soft hair. Ben was leaning against him, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He wasn't asleep, but he was certainly relaxing. Vilgax felt his own features softening, tentacles waving in contentment. It seemed Ben had needed a break as much as he did.
He wondered if his pet was feeling alright after encountering the Tennysons. It had been a while since Ben had been confronted with anyone from his past. He had no worries about Ben's loyalty, but didn't want his pet to have to carry any burdensome emotions on his own, and he had seemed a little tense when he had first changed. Perhaps he would discuss this with Ben later.
Vilgax leaned back on the bench. He needed to make some decisions regarding his prisoners, and he wasn't certain what he intended to do. It would be so satisfying to kill them, or at least the old man, to rid the galaxy of one of the alliance's most valuable assets, but at the same time, he knew what an excellent bargaining chip they could be against the alliance. He did not want to satisfy his desire for revenge only to cost himself a powerful negotiation tool further down the line. Vengeance or strategy; he wished it was an easier decision.
Trisaara was in favour of revenge, but then she usually was. Trisaara liked being crossed even less than he did, although she took a much more cool and dispassionate attitude about it. She had suggested that if they were to be executed, he should broadcast the footage of their deaths. It might serve as an effective intimidation tactic. Whatever his decision was, he needed to settle on it by the time he contacted the alliance to tell them they had failed. Still, Vilgax supposed he could afford himself a little time to relax with his pet before he had to decide. It might even help his thinking. Following Ben's example, Vilgax settled himself more comfortably on the bench and let himself rest a little; enjoying the company.
There you have it!
Whew, present day Ben is a lot harder to write for than past Ben, probably because I've had a lot more practice writing for the latter. Let me know what you think of him. Poor past Ben would be absolutely horrified by the events transpiring in this chapter. I hope the contrast keeps Vilgax sufficiently creepy.
No Gwen point of view this chapter. Sorry about that! I've decided to use the official names for most canon alien species, with Vilgax's race obviously being an exception. The names may be a little on the nose, but at least this way you will know/be able to look up the aliens if you aren't sure who I'm talking about. Grax is one of the Spider Monkey aliens naturally, because I adore them.
Hope you enjoyed our little journey into the present. Next up, we are going back to the past where we return to poor Ben's mental and emotional breakdown, already in progress.
See you all soon!