#Also: I still gotta write the last chapter of The Tortured one and that'll be it with angst.

[thralls-for-alls]

Something A Little Lighter...

Torque stood in the doorway, resting his shoulder against the thick, Jennerit fashioned frame as he watched the clone work.  Hunched over, TZ’s scar splashed fingers danced along the keys of his laptop plugged into the heart of he Stryx Striker.  For now, peace reigned in the silent, empty ship and for the focused Mike.  Trouble awaited him in the morning, when his medic would discover that he had broken curfew despite her many stern warnings. FU worried that his most recent, ill-advised stunt of firing himself over the mouth of a volcano might have been a cry for help; he needed to stay in the Kingdom for a while to ensure that he would not hurt himself again.

Clearing his throat, Torque turned his head and scratched under his chin to announce his presence.  

Caught red-handed outside of the Kingdom.  TZ’s body tensed, his hand having to shoot out to keep the laptop from going flying from his gasp.  His head snapped in Torque’s direction, all three golden eyes bright in shock.  “I can explain...”  He pointed to the many, constantly filling and flickering bars as more and more files downloaded from the Imperium network onto the massive hard drive plugged into his laptop.  “We need these files and it won’t be safe to get them with someone else in charge.”

Holding up his hands, Torque shrugged.  “You’re sayin’ that like I’d take you back, mate.”  Shaking his head, he lowered himself to sit behind TZ.  “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and Ric was busy.”  Torque could not hide the grimace as he uttered the other thrall’s name, years of insults and slurs making it feel strange on his tongue.  Scooping TZ up in his arms, he pulled him up onto his stomach to keep working.  “But, no promises ‘bout when we go back tomorrow, all right.  But I’ll still keep you company.”

Life outside of the Striker was... complicated.  Since TZ had found out about Rictus’ nightmarish warning for Torque, he had pulled everyone together for a simple talk between the three to air out their issues safely.  Neither trusted the other and the piles of abuse and a lifetime of abuse created a sticky problem that made the clone realize he was in over his head.  Therapy was working for him and they needed to talk, so enrolling them both into therapy with his medic, FU seemed natural.  It was rough going and awkward, but forcing the two thrall to live together to force them to get used to each other brought small wins almost every day.  

On a day when Torque’s curse got the better of him, their Rictus verbally tore him a new one, detailing every grievance and abuse suffered at the hands of the bonecrusher.  All of the names, all of the slurs, the constant destruction of the Sinful Bat, the harassment of Vocatia, turning Vocatia in and almost getting her murdered poured from Rictus’s overly fanged mouth.  By the time his was finished, his entire body shook with fury, threatening to knock the spindly thrall off his hooves.  And as the beast, all Torque could do was listen.

Torque had been called names too, slurs of all kinds as well.  His brothers and sisters would wreck his small, stolen collection of containers filled with the prettiest pests he had found; nothing on the scale of the Bat, but just as important to a young thrall who had little else to his name.  As Rictus dumped accusation after accusation, all the liontaur could do was hang his head and lower his ears in shame.  He could never forgive his brothers, even as they had passed in battle and on tours over the years; it was natural the void-touched one did not trust him.  

But TZ did, for some reason.  And so did the other Mikes.  The heat of the overworked laptop propped up against his thighs pleasantly burned his skin through the soft flannel of his new pajama pants, thanks to tailor Mike.  TZ’s bare feet pressed against his stomach as he uncomfortably hunched over to balance the machine across his splayed knees.  With the smooth top of one of the leaf-like protrusions on his knuckle, Torque rubbed TZ’s back.  Torque smiled, letting his eyes rest on the scrolling filenames on the bright screen for a while.

Every so often, a serial number or project name would pass that the old thrall recognized.  From his uninformed perspective, it seemed the Mike was mass downloading literally everything from the Imperium servers and databases across the system.  Payroll sheets, work schedules, greyhorn modification plans, broodhall records... Torque chuffed and gently poked TZ’s back with his knuckle when he saw his number come up.  “’Ey, can you open that one?  ‘T’s about me.”

TZ flinched.  Blinking several times, he stared up to Torque before his brain really processed what he had said.  “Oh!  Yeah, sure bro.”  

The file flashed onto the screen.  Torque squinted to try to read the small dark text across the stark white of the spreadsheet program.  Scrolling down, he scanned for his serial number among the list.  Males paired with females, the resulting litter tacked at the end; a simple broodhall record keeping track of who was paired with who to prevent inbreeding and to keep the army’s genes healthy.

“There,” Torque pointed out, nudging TZ again.  The entry hung in the middle of the screen as followed:

Female:  Q.79q-c.359 Male:   K.24-c.236 Litter Size: 1 Pup: Q.45-c.131

Q.45-c.131, that was... “That’s that rebel... Vo’s pup...”

“Wait, he’s Vo’s son?”  TZ laid back to stare up at the underside of Torque’s thick neck, his eyes thankful for the rest.  “I didn’t know you two...”

“It was a long time ago and under permit, mate.”  Torque tilted his head to glance down to TZ.  Despite the calm explanation, the thrall’s hearts thumped hard in his chest.  Not just once, but twice he had attempted to capture his own son.  He had almost killed Mortus.  “But yeah, we had a litter once.  Neither of us knew who was ours though...”

TZ reached up to affectionately scratch the lowest curve of Torque’s horn.  He knew it would register as the lightest touch for him, but he hoped it would still comfort him.  Despite Torque’s efforts, tension still poured from the bonecrusher.  “So, who are they?”

“... remember that young thrall I attacked on the street?”  

“Yeah, Morty?  Wait!”  TZ set the laptop on the ground next to Torque and flipped over to lay stomach to stomach on him.  “You’re his dad!  That’s great!  I’m surprised I didn’t notice the resemblance sooner.”

The answer was a small nod.  Shame burned between Torque’s horns, silencing his answer.  This was massive news, but he had already ruined any chance of doing anything with it, right?  

Running his palm across Torque’s sternum, TZ let his smile fade, but did not let it dim his hope.  “Well, I know it didn’t turn out good at all last time...”  TZ knew it was an understatement, but how else could he describe the mauling that ended with Torque getting his furry butt handed to him?  “But, maybe if you tell him about his mom and explain the situation, maybe things will be different?”

A purr rolled through his chest as the small hand did its work.  “... I dunno.  He has every reason to hate me and she hates me too... It won’t end up good.”

“Maybe.  But you’ll do something good for both of them.  Even if it doesn’t make them like you, you still would have done something nice.”  TZ gave Torque a hopeful grin, reaching up to grab his chin to lower his head.  Flashing a bright grin, TZ gazed into Torque’s eyes.  “That’s enough of a reason to do it.  I’ll even print up the page and everything.”

Torque let him pull his head down, but he averted his eyes.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I just... I just always wanted to know what our pup was like... and I tried to bring him in to the masters to get culled.”  He rested his hand across TZ’s back.  “Seems like I missed my chance for that.”

The warmth and weight of the huge palm against his back calmed TZ further.  “Yeah, you might’ve,” he admitted; there was no reason to soften the blow.  “But, it’s still worth a try.”

Glancing over to the computer, still churning along on its mass collection of important and not-so-important Imperium data, Torque thrummed.  “I’ll.. do it.  Just got to find the kid first.”  Scooting forward, the thrall lowered his body more so the clone could get more comfortable.  His hard plates jammed uncomfortably against the floor, but it was tolerable for now.  “Maybe I’ll look after I escort you back to the Kingdom.”

“All right,” TZ sighed as he looked around at the room deep within the Striker.  “I’m probably getting put in the tub for this...”

Torque nodded.  “But you’re doin’ somethin’ good, yeah?”

“Exactly,” TZ yawned, a chuckle on his breath.  “It’ll be a good present for the Battleborn, definitely.”