Page 94 of Strays
He opens a drawer, pulls out a file, and flips it open. “Highly irregular,” he says. “But the captain claimed it was a matter of risk mitigation.”
He lifts a single page. “He wrote, and I quote: ‘This aegis pack has shown repeated poor impulse control. Given the danger they’ll pose if allowed to enter a mating arrangement and receive further enhancements, I felt it necessary to escalate my concerns. Commander Eneas, despite being warned, proceeded to push this group toward some kind of breeding arrangement, which I find irresponsible and dangerous.’”
Fucking Balls. I always knew the little bastard was pathetic, but this is a whole new level of low.
Eneas sets the page down. “We reviewed the situation and concluded that the human captain was deliberately trying to sabotage a pack with a high probability of bonding with a Prime nyra and reaching Tier-One. So we intervened. That’s why my pack showed up during your Use-of-Force Review after the school shooting op.
“The captain didn’t take it well. He bombarded the MAB Inspector General with complaints, accusing us of interfering with local discipline, shielding violent aegis and abusing our authority.”
Jay shifts beside me. Shane’s jaw ticks once.
“MAB leadership chewed us out for it,” Eneas continues. “But at the time, we believed it was worth it. You bonded a Prime nyra, and that set you on the path to Special Ops.”
He closes the file and folds his hands over it. “Then, after everything we’d done to make sure your pack had a fair shot, another report landed, this time involving a hospitalized civilian, a police response, and a mention in the local press.”
My stomach drops, and my mouth goes dry.
Eneas’ tone hardens. “Lucky for you, Internal Affairs and the Use-of-Force Board cleared you. So despite your recklessness, your progression won’t be delayed. As of today, you’ve completed Tier-Two and are being transferred to the Great Sky Special Ops Garrison.”
I blink. Not sure I heard him right.
“That’s… already?” Shane asks, frowning.
Jay leans forward. “Commander Eneas said this usually happens by the third month after the bond.”
“Most packs take three,” Eneas says. “You took two. Early advancement is rare, but not unheard of. You cleared every benchmark: physical, tactical, psychological.”
He pulls three sealed envelopes from his desk and slides them across the table. “These are your orders. Your temporary assignment at the High-Risk Unit is over. You report to the Garrison starting tomorrow.”
He meets our eyes, one by one. “That transfer updates your rank. Your badges, files, and call signs will also be amended. You’re no longer Officers Larsen; you’re Special Agents now.”
“Monthly monitoring ends here,” he adds. “The jump to Tier-One takes longer, so your next scheduled medical evaluation with the MAB is in four months.”
Then his voice drops. “But you’re walking into Special Ops with an active criminal charge over your heads. If it sticks, you’re done. You’ll be stripped of rank and terminated.”
He leans forward slightly. “I want to make sure that you know what is at stake here. The humans are watching. The Department of Defense has been trying to drag Special Ops under its command for years. They don’t like the idea of an aegis-run agency, especially not one made of Tier-One operatives, and your case is exactly the excuse they’ve been waiting for. They’ll use it if they can.
“As of your transfer, you're no longer under Great Sky’s jurisdiction, and that includes their legal protections. The city-assigned attorney won't be representing you going forward. The MAB has its own legal resources, and I’ve already filed a request for federal counsel, someone equipped to handle Special Ops liability cases. You’ll be contacted soon.”
He leans forward even more. “I’ll say this once: we are a minority. Humans have the numbers, the money, the institutions, and the political power. So yes, we work with them. We follow their laws. We restrain ourselves even when they strike first. But we do not mix with them, and we sure as hell don’t open our homes to them. Ever.
“Maybe your particular upbringing blurred some lines. You were raised in a lab, without the guidance of a real pack of fathers to teach you what it means to be an aegis. But that excuse doesn’t fly anymore.”
His voice sharpens. “You’re dismissed.”
As we leave the administrative building, everything feels off. I used to dream about this — being outside the human command chain, working federal cases only. But now, it’s not even bittersweet. It’s just bitter.
The High-Risk Unit turned out to be a better place than I ever expected a PD could be for us. In the weeks after Jo left, we practically hid there, avoiding the silence at home and the weight of her absence. We were treated fairly. I even think Fontes is becoming more than a fellow officer, feels like, for the first time in our lives, we’re building an actual friendship.
We have no idea what the Special Ops garrison will be like. Even though it’s an aegis unit with no humans in the chain, we’re still strays. There’s no guarantee we’ll be respected.
When we get back to the housing unit, Jo’s waiting for us with all our bags packed and ready by the door. Shane breaks the news.
“Oh my god! Congratulations!” she squeals, excited despite our somber mood. She hugs us tight, and we hug her back.
Jay and I grab the bags and load the truck. Before heading home, we stop by the cafeteria. It’s already after two, so the hot line’s shut down, but we grab sandwiches for the road.
This time, I drive. Jo takes the front seat with me while Jay and Shane share the back. I watch the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh. Her fingers curl over mine without looking.
