Behind her, JR12‘s sensors hummed. “As the great Gandhi said, ‘The measure of a society is how it treats its weakest members‘. I do not understand how organics can behave in this neglectful manner to their own. At the very least, this level of disregard does not align with efficient biological output. The probability of survival for these females and their offspring is practically zero unless something changes immediately.”
Morgan’s stomach lurched at that understatement. Reduced to mere vessels, these females were nothing more than a grim production line to produce offspring. The cages, the damp stench of unwashed bodies, the groans of hunger and pain—all screamed of something far worse than mere captivity.
She clenched her fists at her sides, knuckles turning white. Forcing herself to step closer, she walked past cages filled with emaciated forms barely clinging to life, past trembling creatures too weak to stand. One baby, no larger than a house cat, let out a weak, rasping cry as it pressed against its mother, who didn’t move.
Morgan knelt, her heart breaking in her chest. “This… this isn’t right.” Her voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. She glanced at JR12. “What can we do?”
“I’m glad you asked.” JR12 words came out in a playful, sing-song cadence. “I have an idea you’re just gonna love.”
Morgan glanced at the floating bot with a faint spark of hope. “Really? Tell me.” Anything was better than the suffering those poor creatures endured.
“Two things.” JR12 landed on her shoulder. “First, did you notice these females aren’t frozen from Ari’s mojo?”
Morgan stilled. Eyes wide, she took in the alarming scene. Damn! How’d she miss that?
“Good thing he didn’t know about them, because we need to talk to at least one.” JR12 continued. “Second, we need that Talon of Ancients.”
Morgan’s mouth dropped open. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she think the bot knew about the missing artifact. Much less that these females were here. “Wait… how do you know what that is?” She cocked her head.
“Oh, please.” JR12 rasped. “Interfacing with this ridiculously simple ship took less time than to tell you about it.”
She crossed her arms. “Okay, Inspector Bug-Eyes, why do we need the Talon of Ancients?”
“See, this is why you organics need me.” JR12 snorted. “The Talon of Ancients isn’t just a pretty bauble. I’m sure you realize it’s the seat of Ozevroc power. By their own traditions and laws, whoever has the artifact is automatically their leader.” She watched JR12 look up at her from her shoulder where he once again perched. “So, if we give that to a female, she can take over from the males. The only hard part is finding one of them coherent enough to understand what we’re proposing.”
Morgan’s gaze swept over the suffering Ozevroc in the dim light. She sucked on the side of her lower lip. Finding one of these females awake and strong enough for their plan to work was a long shot. Good thing she spoke their language. She stood in the narrow corridor between cages so most of them could hear her.
Ignoring the stench of neglect in the air, she swallowed hard and glanced at JR12 as he rose from her and hovered beside her. She could hear his sensors flickering faintly. He must be scanning the area.
Morgan threw her shoulders back, making sure her voice remained soft but steady. “Can any of you speak? Anyone well enough to talk?”
The silence was deafening. Only the soft sound of labored breathing filled the space.
She scanned the rows of cages, eyes catching on a few who stirred weakly, blinking their beady eyes in her direction. But none moved. None responded.
Then, farther down, a flicker of motion caught her eye.
One female slowly raised her head. Her fur, that once might have been dark and sleek, now hung in matted clumps. She struggled to lift herself, using the bars of the cage to steady her trembling limbs. Her eyes, dull but aware, locked on Morgan.
JR12 buzzed quietly. “Look over there. That one looks like she understood you. Let’s go.”
Morgan exhaled and went to the female’s cage and lowered herself to meet the alien at eye level. “We want to help.” Her voice was soft but clear. “Can you… can you talk?”
The female’s throat quivered as if unsure of how to speak. When she did, her voice came out as a rough, rasping croak. She swallowed, and her four eyes darted to look at the others around her as if gathering strength to speak.
Morgan leaned in, her chest tight, waiting. This was their only chance.
The female Ozevroc blinked, her button-like eyes narrowed with an intensity that didn’t match her frail form. She shifted again, her limbs trembling as she pulled herself closer to the edge of the cage, her long snout pressed against the cold bars. “I can speak,” the female rasped, her voice hoarse but fierce. Her determined spirit came through like a smoldering flame beneath layers of ash. She glanced at the other females, then back to Morgan. “We… are dying. Can you help us, strange one with the gold-eyes?”
Morgan whooshed a surge of relief. This one sounded strong and aware. She checked JR12, who hovered silently just outside the cage, his sensors scanning the female.
She knelt and rested her bum on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs. With a firm but gentle tone, she asked, “What’s your name?”
The female stared at her, unblinking. “We are not allowed names.” Bitter contempt laced her words. Her body, despite its weakened state, tensed with defiance.
Son of a bitch!Morgan’s heart squeezed. These poor females had been stripped of their dignity, their very identities. They were nothing more than discarded tools. It was unthinkable what they suffered. She shook her head. “No. That bullshit ends now.” She took in the female’s potent gaze, the determination clear behind her gaunt features. “I’m going to give you a name right now. How about… Zara?” A small smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “It means ‘princess,’ and I think you deserve that profound name.”
The female blinked, her expression unreadable for a moment, as if she was processing the idea. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Zara…” Her voice was low, as if testing the name on her tongue for the first time. Her eyes met Morgan’s again, this time with a flicker of something deeper. Hope. “I accept this name.” Her voice became stronger now. “I ask for your help. Not just for me… but for all of us.” She glanced at the other cages, where several females were watching with wide, cautious eyes.
