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Sendak turns to look at Argyle, still leaning on the wall. It was clear he’d surprised Argyle, and maybe Argyle was right. Once upon a time, he probably would have attacked Argyle by now, even if he wouldn’t have chased him down or dragged him back. Easy prey. But this whole situation was forcing Sendak to acknowledge that he was changing. He told himself that it was simply a matter of logic and survival, and moved on.

“Exactly. And it would be somewhat irritating to have to kill you after we both went to the effort of saving the other from certain death. Not to mention a waste of vital energy in a still very much deadly situation.” He huffs softly, and watches Argyle pause.

Then he laughs, briefly, before his humor turns to sharp annoyance.

“You claim I am intelligent and experienced, then immediately take me for a fool? You know full well that both myself and Haxus would be happy to remove you from our fleet- by relocation or by force- if you had not produced enough, been smart enough, helpful enough. You know me to be a ruthless and practical man. Would I tolerate uselessness consuming our precious food and space? No. Your father would be stupid enough to not spot your intelligence and use it properly, but not I.”

He sighs, frustrated with the perceived insult of Argyle’s self depreciation.

“I know you’re no front lines soldier, and I know that you have not been involved in the occupation of many planets. But I was, and I have. Some galra would balk at valuing brains over brawn. I do not, and I will not. It is intelligence that feeds you when the empire won’t. Often literally. A vital operation becomes too costly and you have to start looking to what the planet will give you. When that happens, it is not the soldiers who will find the food and water and materials. It’s the technicians, who have to be smart and spot patterns and solutions. I recognize that I myself am an exception to what I am saying, but as you said, I have experience and I am wise and sharp. I gained that experience, learned to be wise and sharp, because I learned to use what I have. And right now, you are what I have.”

The reminder of their mutual rescue does strike home. Argyle saved him because he’s the bigger person, yes, and because he wanted to know why Sendak had saved him. But he has to admit, he sees the sense of working with Sendak rather than against him.

It was, admittedly, a halfhearted attempt at laying the groundwork for him getting his spear back later, not out of the desire to be more armed than Argyle, but out of the desire to be armed at all. After all, this planet was dangerous. Having one of them unarmed was inviting trouble. But it was also, more importantly, true- Argyle was significantly shorter and weaker than Sendak, and that spear had been built for his height and strength. It would be unwieldy for Argyle, and possibly uncomfortable in it's weight as well.

[The grip on her blade strengthened, her teeth gritting together as a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. She glared a hole into the masked men before her, furious.]

“ No!! What do you not understand - I am not giving you this blade! It belongs to me, I told you that already, I’m not a thief !! “

[The accusation stung, and infuriated her, but even moreso, the implication that her deceased father would be the thief, with this blade being her only relic of him. The implication that her idolized, spacefaring father, would have stolen something from an alien stranger and given it to her. That was unacceptable to the young girl.]

It had felt silly the first time she did it, and even years after she begun the tradition, it still felt silly. To record messages for a man who might die before he can listen to them, to update him on a life he’s not living, never will, and can only look back on.

But, if ever they met again, and he was still alive … she had always justified it by believing he’d find comfort in those video recordings. That, if he may be mourning the joy of seeing his child grow, he could watch the video recording of her very first few wobbly steps, of her first time saying “ dada “, of the first birthday. He could experience those memories, albeit late.

She exhaled, before setting the camera up on it’s tripod, and pressing record, placing her hair behind her ears nervously.

“ Hey Thace. Merry Christmas. This is … the fourth one I’m recording, yeah, that’s right. “

Four years he’s been gone … she looks pensively away, then snaps her eyes back to the lens of the camera, not wanting the pause to feel too heavy, for him to feel guilty.

“ Things are going great! Maxie’s happy, I’m doing great, work has been fine! It’s just … you know, work is work. Though nursing is no way near as difficult as being a … knife? Was it knife … I’m sorry love, it’s … it’s been a while. “

A heavy breath, once again. Come on, these recordings are supposed to cheer him up, but all you do is show how much his absence is hurting you. This is the opposite of what you’re going for!

“ She’s … started to ask me where you are. You know, she’s growing up, and … she’s starting to understand that … daddy isn’t here, and other kids’ dads are at home with them. And she’s wondering where her dad is … “

“ It’s … it’s difficult. To have to lie to her, but … I can’t tell her, we both know that. It’s not safe for her, and it’s not safe for you. But … to tell my baby that her dad is dead, and she will never see him … “

She abruptly leaned forward, head in her hands. She wanted to end that recording so bad, scrap it all, try again and with more holiday cheer.

But … Thace would want her to be honest. He’d want to know how things really are.

Sighing, she lifted her head back up, fingers entwining together.

“ … but, I think she’s enjoying what I came up with last year. Taking Christmas photos for you, to send to the ‘heaven postal service’. She thinks you’re reading the messages she writes on the back of those. I … I’m thinking of getting a box to put them in, and give it to you if … if you come back. Alive. “

With teared up eyes, she looked into the barrel of the camera, and she could see herself in the small mirror at the end of it. She looked miserable.

“ … I know it’s … not likely, that you do. I know the odds you’re facing are near-insurmountable, but … Maxime is such a headstrong child, you know, and … I like to think some of that is from you, and you’ll pull through, and you’ll come back, and you’ll meet her. “

…

“ Merry Christmas, Thace. I love you. “

She went, "Oof," as her body went thud against the jungle floor. She picked herself up in a sort of half-push up, huffing and glaring at Sendak with the combined irritation power of each and every one of her rashes. This had to be the fifth time he's dropped her, ever since he insisted upon dragging her through the vines and roots that made up her very own allergy central.

Commander Qessyn hummed in thought, tapping her finger on the arm of her chair. Before her was an alien rebel, bound and beaten.

They were having troubles with a rebel faction on this planet, as if they were being fed information from the inside. Qessyn had yet to uncover the mole, however, and this prisoner wasn’t talking.

But she DID have some suspicions.

One of the soldiers under her command huffed. “Bah, this one’s made of titanium! My hands will break before he does!”

Qessyn narrowed her eyes. “So it would seem.” Tapping on a console, she spoke over the comms. “Lieutenant Thace, report to the interrogation room.”

She looked back up at the soldier. “You. Go bring the prisoners seized from the colony. All of them.”

“Yes ma’am!”

He sighed, and got up from his seat, making his way down the halls. He didn't rush, not wanting to seem anxious, but he didn't take his time either, arriving just before the soldier returned with the prisoners.

He didn't look at the first prisoner that had already been there, not wanting to seem worried- instead, he kept his focus on the commander and have a sharp salute.

Approaching the rebel prisoner, Qessyn walked in a slow circle around him; circling him in the manner a predator would circle prey. “We’ve been having some troubles with this one, you see. He’s very strong willed. Annoyingly so. I harbor a strong suspicion that he and his little band of merry troublemakers have been getting information from the inside. The question now, is where the leak is. This one so far has refused to speak.”

The door opened again, and Qessyn smiled. “Ah…exquisite timing.”

The soldier from before had returned, with prisoners; villagers from the planet, of varying ages and genders, escorted by additional robotic sentries. They huddled together, whimpering and frightened.

“I’ve brought the prisoners as you’ve requested, ma’am.” the soldier reported, standing at attention.

“Excellent. Now…”

Qessyn smiled sweetly at the rebel, who only glared daggers in her direction. “You have shown a remarkable resilience thus far. An admirable trait. However, I must wonder; will that stubbornness persist if it’s your people who are placed in harm’s way?”

The rebel’s eyes widened in alarm, and Qessyn turned to regard the group of prisoners; her golden eyes smoldering with hatred. “Lieutenant Thace…” she began…

“Line them up. Kill one for every question he refuses to answer.”

The rebel growled, his voice dripping with venom, “You hurt them and you’ll get NOTHING from me, witch!”

Having thought ahead of time that this was a possibility saved him at least a few moments- he wasn't shocked, or visibly dismayed. That did little to aid the fact that he had to respond soon.

He forced himself to turn away from the problem itself, and consider the options, and the effects of his possible actions. Both of his position here, and how he could best aid the empire in this moment- thinking like a true soldier, not a spy. There were so few marmoran lieutenants, he knew that if he gave in here, he might miss the opportunities to save thousands more. He was lucky that he'd never given his name to the rebels, nor removed his mask- his identity was not at risk as long as he himself didn't give it away.

The corner of her lip quirked into a barely visible smirk. “Oh? You say you can draw out the information?” The commander turned to face him fully, wearing an expression that didn’t seem to give away her suspicion. “Do tell.”

The prisoners, on the other hand, seemed alarmed at the idea of additional pain, worriedly whimpering amongst themselves. One even started to cry, trembling. “Wh-why are you doing this??”

Qessyn raised a brow. Slowly, she approached the weeping prisoner. Why indeed. She could have simply told him to shut up, or given some spiel on the glory of the empire…but they had probably heard it all before.

“You really want to know, do you?” she mused. Very well, she would let them know exactly what kind of person they were dealing with.

“I used to be like you, you know,” she began, catching the prisoner’s attention enough for them to meet her gaze, their eyes wide and filled with tears. “Frightened. Meek. I always tried so hard to see the best in everyone. Tried to treat everyone kindly. Even prisoners like you. I thought what we were doing, we were doing for the good of all.”

Turning away, she walked around the room. “I served under a man named Trekhar. He was…a ruthless man. Didn’t tolerate any kind of weakness in anyone, not even his own species. And I was his favorite punching bag.”

Looking at her hand, she clenched it into a fist. “Every day, he would beat me within an inch of my life. Carve into my flesh. Electrocute me. Every day, some new horror. Some new humiliation. Oh, I tried my best to hold on to my mind, but every day, I lost a little more of myself.”

She looked back at the prisoners. “Until I finally had enough. I began making plans…and one night, I sprung my trap. And now Trekhar was at my mercy.”

Her eyes grew distant, and she smiled. “I tortured him for hours. Listening to him beg for mercy, beg for his life. And the whole time, I couldn’t help but think…no one ever extended such to me. So why should I extend that to him?”

“When his cries finally grew silent, and the last bit of light left his eyes…I felt…elated. More alive than I had felt in years. I was giddy, I was shaking, I was THRILLED. Oh, it was such a rush! That ecstasy, that high, I’ve been chasing it ever since.”

Her face was a look of wild excitement…and then it began to fall. “But…after all was said and done…after I had confessed to what I did, after the Emperor named me a Commander, and gave me Trekhar’s fleet…the burning came back.”

She put a hand over her heart. “A burning…a smoldering, seething hatred. An overwhelming rage, an AGONY! I didn’t understand it back then. I had killed my tormentor! So why, then, did my anguish still BURN?!”

She looked back up slowly. “It wasn’t until I finally lashed out at a prisoner did I realize what had happened…what I had become. And in that moment, I knew that I would never be truly happy again. That the only thing to alleviate this hatred in my chest was taking it out on others.”

Lip quivering, eyes wild, she shrugged lightly. “So to answer your question…I do this because I’m broken. I do this because the pain of others is the only thing that alleviates my own agony. I do this…because no mercy was ever shown to me.”

Her shoulders began shaking. Lips twisting into a pained grin. And she began laughing, a wry sort of despairing laugh, as the prisoners huddled closer together, eyes wide with horror. Even the other soldier in the room looked visibly uncomfortable.

"A compelling story." He finally says, drawing his sword. "As for the prisoners..." He walks to the first one he'd seen, putting the tip of his blade under his chin. "Who are you. Not your rank, not your job as a rebel. Who are you." It's near impossible to tell where he's looking with those blank, golden eyes, but if anyone bothered to squint, they'd find he wasn't looking at the man he was questioning, but rather at the rest of the prisoners, analyzing their expressions. Zeroing in on one who seemed more scared than the rest, more scared than she'd been when it was her under threat. The two cared about each other in all likelyhood.

Commander Qessyn hummed in thought, tapping her finger on the arm of her chair. Before her was an alien rebel, bound and beaten.

They were having troubles with a rebel faction on this planet, as if they were being fed information from the inside. Qessyn had yet to uncover the mole, however, and this prisoner wasn’t talking.

But she DID have some suspicions.

One of the soldiers under her command huffed. “Bah, this one’s made of titanium! My hands will break before he does!”

Qessyn narrowed her eyes. “So it would seem.” Tapping on a console, she spoke over the comms. “Lieutenant Thace, report to the interrogation room.”

She looked back up at the soldier. “You. Go bring the prisoners seized from the colony. All of them.”

“Yes ma’am!”

He sighed, and got up from his seat, making his way down the halls. He didn't rush, not wanting to seem anxious, but he didn't take his time either, arriving just before the soldier returned with the prisoners.

He didn't look at the first prisoner that had already been there, not wanting to seem worried- instead, he kept his focus on the commander and have a sharp salute.

Approaching the rebel prisoner, Qessyn walked in a slow circle around him; circling him in the manner a predator would circle prey. “We’ve been having some troubles with this one, you see. He’s very strong willed. Annoyingly so. I harbor a strong suspicion that he and his little band of merry troublemakers have been getting information from the inside. The question now, is where the leak is. This one so far has refused to speak.”

The door opened again, and Qessyn smiled. “Ah…exquisite timing.”

The soldier from before had returned, with prisoners; villagers from the planet, of varying ages and genders, escorted by additional robotic sentries. They huddled together, whimpering and frightened.

“I’ve brought the prisoners as you’ve requested, ma’am.” the soldier reported, standing at attention.

“Excellent. Now…”

Qessyn smiled sweetly at the rebel, who only glared daggers in her direction. “You have shown a remarkable resilience thus far. An admirable trait. However, I must wonder; will that stubbornness persist if it’s your people who are placed in harm’s way?”

The rebel’s eyes widened in alarm, and Qessyn turned to regard the group of prisoners; her golden eyes smoldering with hatred. “Lieutenant Thace…” she began…

“Line them up. Kill one for every question he refuses to answer.”

The rebel growled, his voice dripping with venom, “You hurt them and you’ll get NOTHING from me, witch!”

Having thought ahead of time that this was a possibility saved him at least a few moments- he wasn't shocked, or visibly dismayed. That did little to aid the fact that he had to respond soon.

He forced himself to turn away from the problem itself, and consider the options, and the effects of his possible actions. Both of his position here, and how he could best aid the empire in this moment- thinking like a true soldier, not a spy. There were so few marmoran lieutenants, he knew that if he gave in here, he might miss the opportunities to save thousands more. He was lucky that he'd never given his name to the rebels, nor removed his mask- his identity was not at risk as long as he himself didn't give it away.

Commander Qessyn hummed in thought, tapping her finger on the arm of her chair. Before her was an alien rebel, bound and beaten.

They were having troubles with a rebel faction on this planet, as if they were being fed information from the inside. Qessyn had yet to uncover the mole, however, and this prisoner wasn’t talking.

But she DID have some suspicions.

One of the soldiers under her command huffed. “Bah, this one’s made of titanium! My hands will break before he does!”

Qessyn narrowed her eyes. “So it would seem.” Tapping on a console, she spoke over the comms. “Lieutenant Thace, report to the interrogation room.”

She looked back up at the soldier. “You. Go bring the prisoners seized from the colony. All of them.”

“Yes ma’am!”

He sighed, and got up from his seat, making his way down the halls. He didn't rush, not wanting to seem anxious, but he didn't take his time either, arriving just before the soldier returned with the prisoners.

He didn't look at the first prisoner that had already been there, not wanting to seem worried- instead, he kept his focus on the commander and have a sharp salute.

@thekavseklabs / @galransandextras​ ○ 𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕫 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕜𝕖𝕚𝕥𝕙 ○

         ⤷  『  “ I understand that you don’t trust me. What can I do to change that? ”  』

A small scoff sounded at the hopeful and gentle words uttered. He understands full well that his cooperation is required at this point in time, if only for his adjustment to the new circumstances he has found himself thrust into. However, seeing as said circumstances are wholly the fault of the Galra and their morally-loose druids, well… Is it any surprise he’d rather choke on the sensations assailing him at all times of the day and night than succumb to honeyed words from someone who was just as likely to turn around and inject him with something to make the change permanent.

He’s being paranoid, he knows.

The change already is permanent, after all. He knows that, can feel it in every fibre of his being. He… is no longer human. Not that he had ever been before, admittedly, not really, but the sentiment is still there. He might not ever have been more than 50% human, but he had grown up there, with their values and morals and behaviours. He did not fit in here, did not want to fit in here.

After all, there was a difference between having his heritage naturally brought to the surface surrounded by friends and allies who would support him and reassure him that his physical changes meant nothing in the face of his personality and personal values, and having the change happen here, on a Galra ship surrounded by enemies and druids who were far too happy to simply grab him and inject him with various unknown substances.

It didn’t burn anymore, but that was but a small mercy.

“Change me back.” He snaps then, curling in on himself despite the desire to appear strong and threatening to the surprisingly meek medical officer. Or perhaps the other simply played meek in order to placate him. It’s true enough that he wouldn’t respond well to someone like a druid, or worse, Sendak or Haxus. Frankly he doesn’t want to find out the kinds of reactions he’d have around them now. Everything is sharper, more focussed, overwhelming… Most importantly, he’d become impulsive. The years of training careful control of his reactions all shot to hell and leaving him reacting instinctively to the slightest of perceptions.

Even now his ears were twitching, an uncomfortable and distracting sensation that only set him more on edge, and it was a tell besides. He hates it.

The demand is pointless anyway, and they both know it. Just as Ulaz should know that the odds of Keith learning to trust him were below zero. Yet the other persisted, gently but firmly, and he feels the exhaustion creeping up on him, gradual but inescapable. it’s too much still, he can’t stay awake for very long yet because of the overwhelm of all the new sensations he still needs to get used to before he can return to any semblance of normal.

“Just—” He sighs, a sound mired half in frustration and half in a bone deep tiredness that reaches beyond physicality. “Just get me somewhere safe. Warm, quiet… I need to rest.”