A Reluctant Alliance

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Jamekon does not answer right away because he knows very well that Oran speaks out of stress and uncertainty. The young Seer has an answer for everything the human has asked, but he lets the silence stay as Oran has requested. It is only when they have fifteen minutes before the appointed time that the guard are to arrive that Jamekon speaks again, his gold eyes on his sister.

Oran, I never said the entire escape depended only on you. Only the first step. Your Config has a laser setting, yes? Well, you use that and I will keep those watching the cameras busy. You don't need to know how, just trust that I will. If they don't see what you are doing, they can't activate the device to stop you. *If* you get yourself out, then you will be able to get Ana out and once she is out, she can help us. 'Course, you'll have to make her angry and how you do that is up to you, but once she's angry, she'll change and it won't matter how many cameras see her.

Jamekon seemed to smile. As for you, as soon as this ship is disabled, so is the device on your back so I think you'll have some incentive to act quickly in that matter.

Ana stirred then, not hearing her brother, but waking anyway. Her gold-hazel eyes looked around in panic for a moment before memory came back and then they dulled once more as she looked toward both males. Her brother touched the glass, giving her a small smile, but Ana could see just how tired he was and she longed to comfort him, to hold him and allow him to be a child again. The longing she couldn't act on hurt and so Ana looked toward Oran instead and she looked him over as much as she could, worried.

"You all right?" Or at least as much as he could be in this place.
 
And if I cannot get Ana angry, the device will surely activate and I'll be lost. Oran simply guesses, just figuring out the spaces between Jamekon's supposed 'visions'. Although the Kel'korian could care less about any old seer, he feels an odd sort of connection, a strong sort of pull in his heart towards the boy. Being so young, Ana's brother surely does have a talent. Or perhaps its more of a curse in his eyes, seeing so much of the world that ordinary people, like himself, just don't see. It must take quite the toll on the small boy. Oran thinks of his own younger brother dancing around potion jars. Then he thinks of what he would do in this situation - Oran shutters at the thought.

Just thank you, Jamekon. It's good to know the son of my bride is on my side. I know many of your kind dislike humans, especially Kel'korians for what they - what we - have done to your people. You are kind and understanding and wiser beyond your years. You'll make a fine young man. And trust me, you will grow up and see the worlds that lie out in cold space. My job is to get both of you out, I won't hesitate for a moment in doing so.

Looking back towards Ana, Oran prays to the gods, something he rarely does, that he will be able to keep his word. Then there is that crimson splattered or pooled on the aching white of Ana's cell and Oran feels his body lurch forward. She is helpless in there but he remembers her true form and recalls how powerful she is. A worried look passes over his countenance.

But, if I'm going to make Ana transform... wouldn't she just ruin the whole ship? Or are you saying this Hammerhead class ship is big enough to fit a beast as large as she?

"i hope you got some sleep, Ana. I won't just let you sit and rot here, don't worry." Unable to make himself tell her more, Oran leaves it as simply as he can, not wanting to worry her with his last change. A last stand for their lives. If he can't break free from his cell, they might as well be pushed through the exhaust and flung into space. "Does it hurt a lot?" Oran asks after a short pause, wondering about her tail now that he can see what is causing the pain in her eyes.
 
The son of his bride?

Jamekon nearly laughs and it's been a long time since he's felt that kind of mirth. He might tease Oran about that later, but for now he just chuckles to himself, blaming stress and weariness for his brother-in-law's slip of the tongue. No, instead he answers the human's question even as he watches his sister carefully. It's not like he can look at Oran - in the traditional sense - anyway. That's the beauty about Draykoni - they can grow only to a certain *largeness*, but anything smaller than that, they can take the size of. Ana won't grow any bigger than this ship can hold. Self-preservation will see that she doesn't.

Ana, unaware of the conversation going on between her husband and her brother, only hears what Oran says to her and she nods to his words, wanting to believe them, and most of her actually doing just that, but there is a part of her that is not so trusting nor so optimistic. She leans her head against the wall, but when Oran asks about her tail, she casts a glance at it and grimaces at the blood that still leaks as well as the dried blood and crust that has started to form around the metal bar.

"Not as bad as it did before, but only if I don't move it." she answered honestly. Oran should know how badly it must hurt. After all, her kind wear armor on their tails when they battle for a reason. Their scales are not hard like dragon-armor but are more pliable, flexible like snake-skin if a bit rougher. They are susceptible and receptive to damage just as easily as the bottom of a human foot would be or the palm of their hand. All those nerve endings set afire by pain.

Ana doesn't get to say more as they heard footsteps approaching down the corridor and she has to work not to shrink back into the corner of the cell, making herself breathe as the guards come toward them...and stop. Damn. The creatures show some interest in Oran, clearly mocking him in their guttural language before they turned to Jamekon with cruel, but more cautious light in their eyes. The young Saliphian wasn't bound in any way, had no device on him but a thin metal circle around his neck and it was this that they used to give him a shock that sent him to his knees as they opened the cell. A guard dragged her brother out and Ana screeched as he was shocked again as they pulled him out into the hall, earning a pained cry from the small boy. Ana fought her restraints then, trying to get to the glass and then stopping abruptly as her cell slid open and the two guards shoved her brother in before entering themselves.

Ana's arms wrapped around Jamekon and he clung to her, once more a child, a terrified, hurting child that she pulled against her and kept with her as she backed away from the Hive soldiers. They let her and Ana looked to Oran, scared, uncertain. She didn't understand what they were doing, why they were giving her Jamekon...until one of them spoke.

"You both choose. You be hurt. Or boy be hurt."

Jamekon shivered, but when he made to move away from Ana, she pulled him back, looking down at him. "No."

"Ana-"

"No! I'm not letting them hurt you anymore."

"I can't let them hurt you." His young face was insistent as he looked up, but Ana shook her head, feeling sick. She didn't want pain and this was a monstrous game, making brother and sister decide who would take the alien's wrath, but she'd be damned if she was going to let her little brother do it. Ana knelt and pulled him close, her body trembling, but her will strong. "You don't try to stop them, you hear me? Honor what I am doing for you and don't give them an excuse to hurt you."

Jamekon sniffled, but when Ana pushed him toward the corner, he went, feeling an immense guilt. He'd known this was coming and couldn't stop it...not without leading to all their deaths or worse, but it didn't mean he liked it in the least. Young eyes holding too much age watched as his sister was unchained from the wall and taken down the hall, the Hive soldiers not even waiting until they'd entered a room before one had struck her hard enough to draw blood from her mouth.

And then Ana was lost to sight.
 
Every single muscle in Oran's body screams out in retaliation for what the Hive members are making the Saliphian's do. Picking who is to be tortured out of a brother and sister is like trying to separate a leg from its socket. It can be done, yes, with force, but both members would like to stay as they are without feeling the tare of separation. Such decisions will take a long time to mend but Oran realizes what will happen almost immediately after the choppy common of the Hive member rumbles in the white hallways and cell that they occupy. If it were his brother, he knows he would do the same without a second hesitation. No boy that young should be subject to torture. Especially when it's the Hive.

The man wants to lash out and crack their limbs with his flame's strength, just like a twig underneath his fingers. Crack. But it's not that simple. Oran remembers what the boy, the huddled mass of shaking flesh in the corner of that cell, told him with such confidence before. Such images seem like a dream in his mind. A simple boy, meant to be at school, learning and expanding his mind, locked up and tortured. That is no way for a boy to grow up - to have a man's nightmare. Torture, especially on such a young boy, can be world shattering. The silver of his neck brace, the same device that is linked up to Oran's back, laughs at him. Oran cannot take it off, he cannot stop the boy, her Ana's Jamekon, from being shocked with, he assumes, the same voltage that he is receiving. The Hive don't care.

Oran must not interfere. He cannot. Being a display, a showcase for the Hive, he is powerless. Glancing to his arm though, the bandages wrapped tightly around his forearm, ceasing any blood from spilling out onto the floor. But re-opening the wound will take quite the toll on his body. The man understands if he dies, at least he will die as all Kel'korians wish to go. Saving, protecting, and, of course, going in the heat of battle. Oran's job, now, is to get the Saliphian's out. But then a thought comes into his mind, his heart sinking in his chest. The hope he holds for escape isn't gone, just crippled. He will be entirely crippled if he starts banging on the glass when he sees Ana being dragged away. He wants to but understands that he will get his revenge soon. Escape - a jailbreak - is enough to keep the man satisfied.

Hopefully the time will come when they're both taken away. Oran twitches, thinking of what sharp needles, knives, or saws, will be a part of the torture. Will they give her an ultimatum to turn on her brother and husband in order to stop the blood leaking from her body? The man doesn't want to think of such things. He can't. He won't. His Ana is strong and will persevere. But will Jamekon? Will Oran when his will is close to the breaking point? His throat is suddenly dry.

Will I be strong? He sure as hell hopes so.
 
Ana is returned to them three hours later. It is a long three hours in which various Hive members come by and taunt the males about the absent female, delivering shocks to both Oran and Jamekon while they speak, before they leave, honoring no agreement whatsoever. When the red-haired Princess is brought back to the cell, her brother is returned to his own and she is tossed inside, not even chained this time as she lands hard on the white floor and doesn't rise. The Hive soldiers laugh in their nasally way and one crouches, lifting Ana's head by her chin, but her dulled eyes don't focus on him or his taunting words and he shoves her away, joining his partner and then they leave, the thick glass sliding shut behind them.

Ana's condition is clear to see, but there is something odd about it. While she's been given a light whipping on her back and shoulders, some very deep and long cuts in her tail that have to be excruciating, her face, abdomen, arms and legs are a mass of bruises, and it would seem that her left arm is broken....she is in surprisingly good condition considering how long she spent away from Oran and Jamekon.

She doesn't greet them, though. She doesn't seem to even see them as she curls in on herself, red blood smearing the white floor, as deep a ruby shade as her hair that does the same. There seems to be little spirit in her or comprehension for her surroundings and Jamekon looks sick in his cell - not that Oran can see that, but it's clearly in his voice when he speaks to the human. The Hive they can hurt the body well enough, but it is the mind they seek to break. They...they excel in mental torture and emotional manipulation. They can create powerful hallucinations, overwhelming fearful responses and if they get into your mind, they can twist your thoughts around.

They did this to her. She doesn't know how to resist mental attacks. It will be hard to make her trust the world around her. Jamekon confided with both anger and sadness in his voice, and then he seemed to take a deep breath, making himself become once again the Seer and not the small boy, horrified at what has been done to his sister. Now he was more determined than ever to get out.

It's time to get out, Oran. I will keep the guards watching the camera busy. They are not the only ones who know how to get into people's heads. You must be quick, though.
 
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They'll pay. All of them. Every last one will be through once I'm done with them. They'll never, ever, touch Ana again. I won't allow it.

Those are the first few thoughts running through Oran's mind when the guards toss her back in where she belongs, her body hitting the ground as if it were a sack of meat. Her strength has been ripped right out from her, the mind that has given birth to so many brilliant ideas prodded and played with. At least, she looks as if she has been. Oran moves to the corner of his cell, trying to see his wife's face. Only then will he truly be able to tell but the princess curls up into a ball immediately, her red hair covering her like a rug covers the floor. Oran's heart takes a leap off the deep end, a hand coming to press against the glass. With all his strength, fire or naught, he won't be able to break its thickness.

But due to his quick thinking before this capture, Oran starts to unclasp the bandage from his arm. Then the pain, the throbbing radiates through his entire arm. But soon, the device, covered in blood, reveals itself for Oran. Pulling the stitches back together as much as he can, Oran wraps himself up once more. The smooth cotton turning a shade of red as expected by his rampaging heartbeat. Cleaning the triangular device off on his shirt, Oarn carefully cuts the glass on the corners. The red hot beam melts and separates the pane. When its ready enough, he kicks it out completely, the sound of shattering glass on the white floor. Next comes the crunching of boots when Oran jumps from the cell.

Next is Ana's cell, this time Oran pulls the glass out with small holes he cut. Throwing the pane away bit by bit, Oran leaps to Ana's side. Being as careful as he can, he wraps his arms around her, face pressed against the mass of red hair. "I'm so sorry," he breathes, attempting to pull her up from the ground to rest against his chest, "But I told you I would get you out of here and I'm keeping my promise. Ana, please, answer me." Her silence shakes him completely, wanting to hear just one word, one phrase from his Ana. Pushing her hair out of her face, he tries to look into her eyes to see what horrible images might appear.
 
Ana doesn't resist his touch, the movement, but she trembles with fear and it's not to Oran that she tries to curl, but away from him. It's not his fault and it's not him she's truly afraid of, but she doesn't have the presence of mind to tell him that, doesn't even think about it and when he brushes her hair away, she flinches and then stills, tenses as if she expects to be struck. Her dull eyes hold no gleam of gold, only a hazed over hazel and her gaze is lost, haunted. She looks like nothing less than a prisoner of war, like someone kept locked away for years, without purpose and nearly unable to know what hope is.

There is no telling what kind of mind manipulation has resorted her to this, but it is clear it has terrified Ana and made her believe something that is not true as she doesn't seem to even recognize Oran. She stares at him and while something seems to try to flicker in her eyes, something like a knowledge long-forgotten, it doesn't stay and the next minutes she is try to get away from him, struggling in his hold, but her efforts are weak at best and she stills again at the pain, tears dripping off her face as she attempts to hide behind her hair again, to escape where she can't be seen.

Jamekon watches it and knows much it will pain Oran to see, but it will also make the human angry and that is what they needed....for both Oran and Ana. When the small Seer speaks to the man again, his voice sounds strained for in truth he is dividing his mental abilities into two tasks now and it's not easy. Oran, you need to get me out and you need to make her angry. We can work on fixing her after we get her safe, but right now, she just needs to be able to fight.

He knows they are callous words, but if they don't get away, Ana is only going to get worse and so are they.
 
"Ana?" Oran breathes, not knowing what else to say when he sees the weak and hallowed expression she gives him. Such a look might even haunt him, not seeing that same small sparkle in his eyes of the Draykoni smiling back at him from inside her. He would have jumped into her eyes if he could, taken the ghastly chill from her eyes and from her features, yanking it all out and throwing it across the room. But would she ever lose such a stare? Something so powerful that even Oran is frozen for many moments after Ana recoils away from him and in onto herself. She recognized him, didn't she? Does she know who he is? Did they take her memories? They certainly took her character right out from under her.

"Ana, it's me. It's Oran. Your husband." But that is all he can tell her before Jamekon's words rattle in his head, sounding more like the feedback from an amp than his usual small voice. Tears form in his eyes when he hears what he must do. Rationally, he knows it makes sense but can he really make her angry? She is emotionless right now, just flesh and bone, no -person- in there at all. He knows how to make his brother's angry, his father and even his mother, perhaps some of his men, but Ana... she has learned to accept him. What had made her angry before, when they were first married, now just make her smile and laugh. Will he ever see that smile again? Will she be, forever, just a drone? The thought makes him shake and wipe away the tears eye by eye. Taking her head in his hands, he kisses her forehead, letting go immediately after, moving over to Jamekon to unlock his cell.

"How do I--" he starts to shout out loud, sniffling and letting more tears spill from his eyes before remembering to speak through his mind, How do I make her angry? I.. I can't! I can't do it. The thought, just the thought... it... I... Jame... But Oran remembers that the only way to protect and save Ana is to make the Draykoni inside of her mad. So when the glass pane comes down, cracking into sheets, Oran has found new meaning in Jamekon's words. He must. No questions, just listen to his heart and the mind that controls such a beating organ. Looking back at Ana, he sure as hell hopes this will work.

Running back to her side, he pushes her hair out of her eyes, pulling her up so that she is looking at him. Their eyes meet, hot and cold for her light is gone and his is strong enough for the two of them. They are not hateful eyes. They are determined to get his wife out of this place. "Ana! Ana! Look at me, look!" And staring straight into her eyes, his hands crackling with purpose, he starts yelling at her, "What the hell do you think you're doing? You're a waste of space. Come on, get up. Look at you! You're a pile of dirt, how could I love something like you? Huh? You and your stupid DRAGON! You can't do anything right, can you? Just changing into a dragon one moment and then things should just be all dandy? Do you really think I could ever accept you? And not to mention that damn tail of yours! How could I love something that has a tail?" Oran pauses, not realizing how forceful his words might have been against her sheltered form. Still, he waits for a reaction before continuing, his breath spilling and his chest heaving.
 
His words, his gentle ones mean nothing to her. They don't exist in the dank, dark place her mind has become. No light makes it here. She is alone here and no one wants her here. She has failed all those who loved her, all those who relied on her and she doesn't deserve to be treated with kindness. Those she has not betrayed personally have betrayed her in turn because they cannot stand what she has become. Her life spiraled out of control the minute she became the dragon, the minute she let it take control and killed all those dear to her.

The Hive found her then, taught her control, but they had to hurt her and she had to let them. It was the only way to tame the monster inside her. She accepted it. No gentle touch or soothing words could control the dragon that dwelled within her. It preyed on such things, she was to not listen or trust such things. So she blocks out the words and the kiss and she stays were she has been left.

When she is suddenly pulled up forcefully, she doesn't resist, but it is something she recognizes so she stands, waiting for further pain. It doesn't come in the form of blows, though, but raging heat that she can feel sweeping through her veins, awakening the monster inside her. She stares at the person before her, hears his words as from a great distance, but it's not her that reacts. She's not here anymore. She's retreated for her own good. No, it's the creature inside her that suddenly come to life, fueled by the fire and her eyes flash gold, steady that way as anger, pure and undulated enters her eyes. There is no other emotion. Simply fury and the creature growls, fangs bared.

Ana does not know the person before her, but the instinct, the Draykoni, within her does and while it's been twisted as well to see such a person as an enemy, at least it recognizes Oran. Right now, though, he's pissed it off because out of every part of Ana, the Draykoni loved him first. She lets out a screech of rage even as Jamekon grabs a hold of Oran and yanks him away from the redhead who is rapidly starting to shift.

"Come on! You did good, Oran, but you don't want to be near her right now!" the young Saliphian warns as he pulls Oran with him through the hall. Behind them they can hear the full-fledged roar of a dragon.
 
"Yeah, howl, scream, do whatever the hell you want, Draykoni! Come on! Show me a REAL roar! You're a mere whielcat, a helpless kitten. Show me the dragon! Where is the dragon you showed me just a few days ago? Huh!? Where!?" Ana screams again, her gold eyes showing more of what Oran wishes to see. Even though they're filled with a fiery anger, at least it's something other than the bleak and glassy reflection he saw earlier. Her body starts to twist but Oran holds firmly onto her, even shaking her just a bit for emphasis. He wants to make sure she changes all the way. Her anger has to be complete - he has to keep yelling no matter how much the man wants to stop. It even hurts him.

Realizing her pain, Oran reaches out for the scale covered girl, her bones cracking much like they did before to make room for newly formed muscles and stronger bones. Before his hands can touch her, his mouth wanting to apologize, Jamekon is yanking him out of the cell and down the hall. Oran fights him at first, trying to shove the boy to the side but then an alarm starts to blare in their ears, a red strobe light covering the halls like a lighthouse would. White, red, white, red. Jamekon had been right about being hasty for if Oran spent another moment hesitating, they would have been found out. At least Ana will be safe. Now Oran's duty is to get Jamekon to safety.

The man's stomach curls when he sees the doors at the far end of the corridor open, soldiers spilling out like beans from a bag. Grabbing Jamekon's arm, Oran starts to dash. Not knowing what he is doing or where he is going, he feels Jame already knows what will happen. Holding up the bloody triangle, he asks Jamekon if he knows where the control room is or any bypassing port systems. The boy has spent more time here than the Kel'korian. There are no maps telling them where to run and where not to. Oran's trusting Jamekon with directions and the boy is trusting Oran with his life. Surely if he is recaptured, he will be nothing but a gravestone.
 
Jamekon certainly does know where a port system is and when Oran asks, he grins - outright grins like he knows something the man does not; which he does - and pulls the older human down a new passageway. The guards there lift their guns, but Jamekon knows what's coming. "Duck!" He yells it and drops, half pulling, half trusting that Oran is quick-witted enough to obey instant-orders. They barely reach the floor before a stream of fire comes shooting over their heads, nearly scorching their backs. It hits the Hive soldiers and some are burnt to ash while the ones in the back are merely set on fire and they start to run around frantically, screaming.

The small Seer doesn't pay attention as he bolts to his feet, once again making sure Oran is with him as he darts into an adjoining passageway...right as another stream of fire chases them. Jamekon grimaces and looks up at Oran with a somewhat sheepish expression. "Yeah, it's us she's trying to kill at the moment. Sorry about that. Gotta keep moving." He darts away then as a roar erupts and the sound of breaking and screeching metal is heard as the dragon claws her way through the tunnel.

"Come on! The port is this way!" Jamekon shouts. Behind them, they can hear gunfire, an enraged roar and then the crackling sound of fire, screams.

The dragon recognizes nothing, no one as a friend. She's only intent upon her prey, but her prey is quick and fits in places she must claw her way through to follow. Her shape doesn't change fast enough, shrink fast enough to keep the ship from being damaged and all over the place are new alarms flaring, panic ensuing. Bullets ricochet off her hard scales and the dragon blows fire at those who get smart enough to aim for her face.

She roars again, wanting open skies instead of this metal that creaks and groans and blares with flashing lights. She twists and turns her way through another corridor and sees her elusive prey running from her. A deep snarl follows them and then another cough of fire that doesn't have any hope of reaching them, but tells them she's not far behind.
 
Oran's instincts, no matter how much his heart may have been rattled, stay intact. When Jamekon yells at him to duck, the man gives the Seer one better. The trained soldier topples over his right shoulder, feeling the momentum from his run push him right back up to his feet once again. You always want to end a good roll on your feet. A wise man once told him and Oran smiles once his booted feet hit the plexiglass of the ground and once again his muscled legs push him onwards. There is no time to drown out his mind from the worry of his wife, the thoughts fluttering in and out once the throaty snarl makes its way through the hallway.

"She is trying to KILL US?" Oran can't believe what he is hearing, his feet almost tripping over one another. The refined air of the ship flows into his needy lungs, the human easily nipping at Jamekon's heels. Forcing himself not to pass the smaller boy, Oran hears the familiar pitter patter of steel toed boots on the ships ground and before he knows it, he is grabbing Jamekon's shoulders and pushing him against the wall. The soldiers run by them, Oran grabbing one by the neck and twists until he feels the spine crack underneath his hands. With little time to grab the fallen man's gun, Oran winds up, his body spinning before he aims a kick right into the stomach of his next victim. He doesn't think - he just survives. Bodies clash against one another, the floor, the ceiling and the walls.

But now, they have a gun and four soldiers that they don't have to worry about anymore. "Go, go, go!" Oran orders the boy, pushing him down the hall, his hands now occupied with the heavy machinery that will save both of their lives. Firepower means they have a better chance at actually living through this prison escape. Frantically looking behind him, Oran can almost heart Ana's heartbeat rampaging through the hallway either above, below, or across from theirs. Sooner or later, they will have to deal with her and he knows that if his life is in danger, he won't have any second thoughts about lifting his gun and firing.
 
Jamekon keeps running, needing no encouragement. He can already see several steps ahead - well, in a lot of directions and that's not so helpful; but Oran has a gun, at least in those futures things are more promising - and knows very well not to stop or freeze. In years to come, he will be a fantastic soldier or even spy with his level head and talent, but at the moment he's merely a child who knows more than he should and is trying his best to make sure that particular power comes in handy right now. He's a child terrified of failing, too.

As they race through the halls, Jamekon now trails more behind Oran because he's the one with the weapon and they are encountering more resistance. What the small Seer fears, though, is that they won't reach the port in time and Oran will be stopped by that metal thing in his back. They round a corner, though, and he points out the panel on the wall.

"There!"

Behind them a roar sounds and Jamekon curses rather colorfully for someone his age and turns his head to see the dragon tearing through the hall after them. Oh great. This future. It had to be this one... The child stops in the middle of the corridor and tosses an order over his shoulder. "Keep going. I know how to stop her. Go!" If Oran doesn't get that device off his back, they are not getting out of here and Ana will be the least of their worries.

Right now, the dragon is growing closer, fire sparking at her mouth and Jamekon's gold eyes narrow, meeting her larger ones. Stop. It's a simple word with a great power behind it as it rings through her head and the great creature obeys after a moment of hesitation, snarling horribly, snapping at the air, snaking her head forward to clang her massive jaws shut near the Seer's head. Jamekon doesn't flinch.

We are not your enemies. Those who harm you are your enemies. Try to remember.

His voice curls through her mind, slowly penetrating the darkness around her even if it's not quite strong enough to get to Ana herself. A great head shakes, as if to dislodge his words, but some calculated intelligence enters those gold eyes. It's not Ana, but its thought and Jamekon pounces on it. We can get you out of here. To the sky and the ground again. We can help you fly again.

The dragon stops snarling, a low growl in her throat and she huffs smoke. Jamekon grins. Then we have a deal.
 
When Jamekon stops and faces the machine-like precision of Ana's slashing, Oran turns around when he no longer has a shadow following his. Cursing at the boy, Oran grabs his arm and tries to pull the young Seer from his rooted spot. There is nothing he can do, in Oran's eyes, to stop her. Oran is the one who made her angry so she is coming after him. It doesn't matter of Jamekon is with him or not, Ana wants his scent and his words are rattling inside of that Draykoni. At least that's what he thinks, his hand loosening its grip on the stick of an arm Jame has left. A simple nod is enough to tell the young boy that they will meet again. All will be well.

A bond of blood is the strongest type of pact in Kel'korian culture. If you have no family, you have nothing. Children are like money for when there are more of them in a household, the house is looked upon with bright smiles and respect. A man or woman who cannot birth a female or male heir is looked down upon as a very serious problem. Without family, what characterizes people in their most comfortable states?

With all that in mind, Oran supposes its something about the family blood bond that keeps Ana from killing her own dear brother. Or maybe the Kel'korian has learned to trust a Seer for Jame has not seemed to lie to him yet. But, with all his running, Oran hardly has time to think about such matters. He can't even look back to see if the boy has been ripped apart like the meat off of a chicken bone. Now he has to find the control room all by himself and fend off enemies. Everything from this moment on is now a blur of him running through the different colored hallways symbolizing levels and the tech that is located there.

Finding the jasmine colored floor, Oran opens up yet another door, lifting his gun and shooting before anything else crosses over his line of vision. A firefight commences, the soldier constantly moving around the gaskets and taking cover underneath large barrels or piping. Then, he feels a tingle down his spine, the device being activated. A voice speaks to him in a soothing, melodic, tone. The genderless spokesman digs a small hole in the back of Oran's mind, planting the seeds to his destruction. Thinking is irrational and only feral action must be heeded to. And so the device sends a small bolt of electricity through his entire system, causing the man to drop to his knees just in time for a squad of guards to surround him with their guns aimed right at his head.

But soon enough, he will be running with these men and his target like so many before him will be those who lie closest to his heart.
 
Jamekon feels, knows when the future has changed and he looks down the hall that is now devoid of any movement in horror, seeing something much different than the dead bodies that litter the passageway. No, he sees his own body, Ana's body and Oran coming to his senses, devastated. It is the most prominent future and the young Saliphian trembles in fear, trying not to cry as he frantically searches for a loophole, for ANYTHING that will give indication that the future can be changed for good. He needs a deciding moment, a particular decision...something!

He doesn't find it. Oh, the future can be changed, but he doesn't see HOW yet and so Jamekon looks back at the dragon behind him and climbs up her arm and shoulder, settling between her wings and curling there, scared beyond belief and praying that if they are to die, that it will be quick.

But Oran. He would not wish that pain on anyone as Ana starts to move, following the one scent she'd love to burn to a crisp but won't at the moment. The dragon moves through the corridors with more control now, blowing fire at anyone who dares to try to get in her way, lethal jaws snapping and claws puncturing anyone who avoids the flames. She now sees everything as an enemy...and two people as temporary allies. She just has to find one of them because the boy on her back wants it.

What she'll do once she does is not something the creature thinks of. She takes every step as it comes.
 
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The guards around Oran laugh, ramming their boots right into his sides, stomach, and face. When he squirms and tries to move out of the circle, they just kick him back. A small whirring sound comes from the device on his back, sharp claw-like fingers digging into the flesh near his spinal chord, curling around it and taking complete control. Oran finally gives in, his back loosening up from its tensed state while his screams rattle against the cackling laughter of the soldiers. The voice in his head tells him just to stop fighting for it will hurt less. But what is it? Oran isn't sure but a large part of his heart never wants to understand.

His tight muscles, no doubt bruising starting to show already on his covered skin, make hard splotches all along his body. The voice tells him that the only way to save his friends is to let him take complete control. Oran knows he can't allow it, his mind trying to build up a barrier against the silky invader to his cranium. The device is talking to him for its simply an amplifier for the man with the microphone. Then the fishhooks clamp down around his spine, causing him to shout out one last time in immense pain before losing sight of who he is and what his true mission is. The amber of his eyes are now gone, flames enveloping his entire body anyway. He is no longer a man but a machine pushed to max power. If they're lucky, perhaps the flames will still act like a Ke'korian and become fatigued from constant use. It's a stretch but they'll really have to make him work before his flames give out on him.

Now the hands that once wished to strangle the Kel'korian wrap around his arms and help him to his feet. They snap and spit in their native tongue and Oran knows what his purpose is. Kill the dragon and the boy. The voice reminds him, the band of the Hive men marching down the hall. Ana roars and their speed quickens. Oran is given ammo and a new gun. A special one. Instead of just lasers, it has tranquilizers. The needles are thick enough to pierce the armor of the Draykoni's form, the green liquid injected into her. If they're lucky, it'll cause her to be immobile first and then the waves of pain instead of the other way around. All Oran has to do is just fire, reload, fire, reload and she should fall.

But that's only the beginning.
 
Shhh...

Jamekon's voice goes through the dragon's head and she stops snarling, stops roaring and stills, glancing back at him. For some reason, she feels less hostile than she did before regarding the young Saliphian and when he appears to be listening to the approaching footsteps, she does as well, a growl threatening to sound in her throat. Jamekon sets a hand on her scales, cautioning her to further quiet as he slips off her back and lands with a soft clank on the floor with a wince.

Gold eyes look up into gold. You must be as quiet as you can. Make them find you. Do not attack for they have a weapon that can bring you down. The man you were hunting, he is not in control of himself anymore. Do you understand?

The creature seems to frown and there is something in her eyes that seems to want to burst forth, struggling to make it past the darkness. She wants to understand, but Jamekon doesn't think she fully does and he knows he doesn't have the time to explain in a way she will understand so he gives only a few simple commands. Stay hidden if you can. Be quiet and don't kill the man. I will be back. With that, he darts away, down a smaller corridor. Jamekon knows Oran has dropped the Config and he knows where. If he can get it...they might still be saved. There are two futures that lead to good outcomes. Only two and he's determined to make one or the other work for them.

The dragon watches him go and then directs her attention to the approaching footsteps. Gold eyes narrow, smoke leaves her nose, but she doesn't make a sound and with an unnatural, ethereal grace and silence, she grows smaller, better able to fit through the tunnels and then she starts to go the opposite direction. It rankles her to run, but she doesn't truly see if that way. She's just...hunting in a different way, stealthily.
 
The men are baffled by the silence trickling down these halls like condensation on the surface of a glass. Passing glances move around the Kel'korian, wondering where the beast has gone. As the seconds pass, the men start to grow impatient, their gaze settling on Oran. Where do you think she is hiding, human? The voice whispers, a smile coming robotically to Oran's face for he knows he is not alone any longer. The caverns of silence in his mind baffle the young man, his usual rampaging train of thought nothing but an empty station platform. His only way of getting out of here alive is to listen. To obey.

Now commences the game of cat and mouse. The part of the mouse is played by the large dragon. Ironic? Yes. But the cats aren't about to give up or give in just because they can't hear her anymore. A hand taps Oran's shoulder, giving him a pair of kelp colored goggles. Without question, as if he already knows what they do when he clearly doesn't, Oran takes the thick square frames and places them over his eyes. A silver band wraps horizontally around his skull, two more (one over each eye) travel vertically up and over his head. The goggles are now a part of his helmet, giving him not just advanced sight, just like watching an HD DVD instead of a regular one but he has a heat sensor too. The goggles see right through the walls, forms of bodies coming and going as the Hive's men and women try and contain this jailbreak.

"Come on men, this way!" One of them orders, waving his arm before the rest of the group follows. Oran, not yet accustomed to seeing with this advanced sight, slows down. His brain is pounding away at his skull, trying to gain control of itself again but the hooks have settled deep into his spine. They can be retracted, yes, but it won't be painless. The Hive men don't let Oran fall behind though, he is their star so they push him to the front of the line, holding him up if they have to for the ground to stop spinning beneath him.

The Config, dropped to the ground when Oran got shocked, hardly makes itself known to the Hive soldiers marching up and down the hallways. Jamekon is lucky if it hasn't already been stepped on or kicked into a grate.
 
Ana! Shift back! You need to go back to human form! They can see you!

The voice rings through her head and the dragon shakes it, like trying to shake away an annoying fly buzzing around her ears. She looks around, growls softly and continues on, but the voice of the child she can no longer see grows more commanding, exasperated. ANA! If you want to live, you stupid giant lizard then change back! You don't have to let go of the instinct, just let go of the dragon's form!

She stops again, wanting nothing more than to flame this irritating child, but he's no where to be seen and eventually she simply complies because he won't leave her alone and it's starting to make her head hurt. She shifts down to her more human form and Jamekon tells to wrap her tail around her leg, to keep it hidden. She doesn't know why, doesn't understand, but she obeys because he just won't shut up. The red-haired female goes on silent feet through the corridors now, completely naked and hardly even noticing. What she also doesn't know if that being in this form makes her much harder to spot even with thermal vision.

Jamekon knows it's bought them some time, but as soon as Ana encounters someone, she will kill them and the trail of bodies will be enough to guide the enemy. He moves fast, knowing the Config has been kicked into a grate, but he knows which grate and how to get to it. When the Saliphian comes to the spot in the corridor, he must wait for passing soldiers to go by, his heart pounding like a drum through his skull and both fear and adrenaline drive him forward.
 
The men around Oran start to look frantically around, their goggles losing sight of the large dragon. It seems the goggles can see through steel alright but for whatever reason, glass distorts the thermal vision lens. Their bodies run in and out between glass doorways, their bodies growing tall and their bodies becoming large globs instead of recognizable beings. All of them assume the dragon ascended a staircase and is now rampaging the lower floors. The leader pulls Oran to his side, muttering something in their native tongue along the lines of: This one rests on your shoulders.

Moving to a nearby staircase, the creature clicks a few buttons, the door responding in a guttural howl. Luckily, it swings open and Oran is shoved down the steps. You have to find her now. My men will keep on looking on the upper floors but you, you sweet human, will find her. I am sure you will. Oran, still heavily underneath the tides of this voice's will, simply nods. In the darkness of the floors below, covered with dripping pipes and gaskets, he crouches his way through the murmuring engines. If they're to fight down here, it would be the opportune moment to destroy the belly of the beast and cripple her so that this hammerhead shark of a ship cannot jump into any of the drives.

She is a monster. A beast that must be dealt with. Take all and every step imaginable just bring her to me alive OR dead. Torture the creature out of her body, make her scream out for all the men she has killed today. You have no connection to this one, dear Kel'korian. She is a nobody. If you allow her to live, she will get in the way of your glory. Kill - slowly. Be as gentle as you like. You like it when they scream, don't you? Well, that doesn't matter anymore. The man you were is nothing to the man I can show you. I'll bring out the true Kel'korian. What your race once was before your dear father grew soft. A weakness! A shameful scuff mark on the shoes of your domination.
 
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