Ten Zero

Ko-lee wasn't supposed to spend time in the Lykka forests. Beyond the fact that the Grineer had explicit rules on how and where her people were allowed to roam, the various fauna that managed to eek out a living in the forest didn't take kindly to human excursions. She knew that if spotted, whether by animal or by soldier, she'd be in a world of trouble. Her hand drifted to the zaw on her side; the serrated sword a gift from her father on their boaldak of nearly a decade prior. It was a clear sign of his care for her, and his desire for his only child to be safe. "And isn't that just the problem," she muttered under her breath, as she stalked through the various bushes, being a little more aggressive with her trailblazing than was strictly necessary. She knew that her father not only cared for her safety, but for the safety of everyone in the Sharip settlement, but she was convinced that his attempt to protect them was only going to get them hurt in the end. As she continued to forge her way through the forest, her mind replayed the argument she had with her father only a few hours prior...

"-is going get us killed! Why can't you see that? You're so confident that if we stay here, if we don't interfere with the Grineer, that they'll leave us alone!" yelled Ko-lee, staring her father in the eye. Sanza, on the other hand, standing with his back straight, and holding eye contact, spoke in a much more measured tone. "Because that is the way it has been for fifty years Ko-lee. You are just a child, but I was tasked with protecting and leading Sharip, and as you can see," as he gestured to the various buildings and infrastructure around them, "I have been quite successful." Even with the steady tone of his voice, his words held a presence that overshadowed Ko-lee, and she couldn't stand how it made her feel like a child. "You were tasked, dad. But now I'm leading-" said Ko-lee, but she was cut off before she could finish. "You will lead, Ko-lee, but only when I am dead. I am still very much alive, thank you, and I have no plans on passing anytime soon," said Sanza, a small smile quirking his lips.

"I know! I know, I'm not saying I want you dead, I'm just saying that I need to start making decisions before you die. I... I need practice, you know?" said Ko-lee, losing a little bit of steam at the thought of her father's mortality. He was still fit, but age caught up with all in the end, and his face bore the wrinkles of his many years. "I just think it's important for me to be able to make choices 'with' you," she said, trying to impart what she felt to her father. "Why?" said Sanza, his head tilting slightly at the emphatic words of his daughter. He felt confident in her decision making, and he raised her to always consider as many angles as one could hold in their head when attempting to decide something. However, there was a look in her eyes that said she felt... unsure? Uncomfortable, possibly, at the thought of leadership. What Sanza didn't know, what Ko-lee was struggling to explain, was that her choices had not affected others before, not on this scale. She had made decisions for 'her' well being all the time, and she made decisions for her family when Sanza was unwilling or unable. But making decisions that could affect all of the residents of Sharip, well, she'd rather have her father's well versed eyes looking over her choices. Just in case.

That being said, his outright refusal of her current suggestion was infuriating. It wasn't that he found a hole in her logic, or she had failed to consider some sort of possibility. Instead, it was simply that he did not agree with the best way to keep the settlement safe, and she felt- no, she knew in her bones that their survival long term needed to have a better plan than just 'hope that the Grineer don't take too much notice of us'. "What if you're wrong Dad? Why are you so afraid of just letting me try? It wouldn't even take that long; a couple of weeks to Cetus, a quick conversation with Konzu, then I just wait for one of the Tenno to arrive." she said, doing her best to keep her previous frustration out of her voice. "And then what, lee-lee? How are you going to talk to a monster?" he said, his face softening when using his pet name for his daughter. "THEY'RE NOT MONSTERS," Ko-lee exploded, her emotions quickly getting the best of her. She knew in that moment that she had lost the argument. Her father used to call her lee-lee when she was a kid, and the soft spoken voice made her feel like she was being treated as such all over again.

Still, that was no excuse for her to yell at her father, and her face immediately grew red from the embarrassment. Sanza, for his part, reacted very little from the outburst, simply losing the small smile that had been upon his lips. There was a brief moment of silence, as the two stared at each other, and Ko-lee, feeling tense, tried to speak up. "I'm s-", she began, but her father simply raised a finger, and Ko-lee immediately went quiet again. She did her best to hold her tongue, waiting, while she watched the gears spin in her father's head. Finally, he spoke. "Ko-lee," he began, as he stared directly in her eyes. "Are you able to speak with a kubrow?" Ko-lee, caught off guard by the absurd question, let a laugh slip out between her lips, but she did her best to quickly school her expression. "No Dad," she said, unsure as to his line of questioning. Instead, he just stayed silent, with only the subtlest shift in his head to show that he was expecting something more from her. She only had to take a moment, before responding more formally, "No, I'm unable to speak to kubrow, Chief Sanza."

"Not many are," he said, almost imperceptibly nodding, as though in confirmation of her more formalized mode of address. "In fact, I can pretty confidentially say that no one on this planet can speak with a kubrow. You may, however, speak to a kubrow. What would happen if you spoke to a kubrow, Ko-lee?" he said, continuing in the lesson like format she was so used to from her lessons from when she young. It did slightly irk her that she was once again being treated like a child, but she had made it clear that her emotions were going to get the better of her in an informal situation, so she did her best to weather it. "If I spoke to a trained kubrow? It would follow my commands," she said, before briefly thinking, and following up. "Well, if it was trained well, and if it was trained to take commands from those that weren't it's owner. But if I were to try and talk to a wild kubrow? It would just attack, ignoring any and all words I said. ...Sir." She knew the formal address wasn't entirely necessary, but figured it was better safe than sorry, and she knew her father would appreciate her playing along.

"Correct!" he said, the small smile returning to his lips. "A kubrow, like many wild animals, will viciously attack, and only if raised from birth by a competent handler will they listen to commands. Now, I have one more question for you, Ko-lee." Any levity that might have existed from the previous moment had quickly evaporated. "Imagine that the kubrow, instead of 3 or 4 feet tall, is 10 feet tall. Imagine that the hair on it's body was instead finely woven threads of ferrite alloy, rather than a coarse fur. Imagine, if you will, that this kubrow, uncontent with just it's nest, was rampaging through Ostron settlements, knocking down houses and savaging all who lived within them. What, then, would you call that kubrow?" She looked at him, and she knew immediately what he was asking.

"I would call that kubrow a monster, Chief Sanza." Ko-lee said, solemnly.

"But, the Tenno aren't rampaging kubrow's da-Chief Sanza," said Ko-lee, quickly correcting the slip into informal language. "We can converse with the Tenno. Hok does, Konzu does. Even Nakak does, and she's a child." Her father nodded his head along with her words, as though he had already known what her objections would be. "While I do think that Nakak is a bit young to be talking to the Tenno, she is officially an adult. She engages in trade, just like her peers, and even if I were her parent, I would be unable to tell her to avoid trading with the Tenno," he said, thinking of the female mask seller in Cetus. "But you can tell me what to do..." Ko-lee quietly muttered. Sanza's sharp glance however, let her know that she hadn't been as quiet as she had meant to be. "You have responsibilities that Nakak does not, Ko-lee. I do not mean this as a slight to the young seller, but you will be running a settlement, which has a bit more weight than selling carpets and children's masks. Hok, much like Nakak, may trade with whoever he likes. And when it comes to Konzu...," Sanza sighed, his eyes drifting to the north, where Cetus lay. "I don't agree with Konzu on everything. I've made my stance on the Tenno clear to him, but he has bigger issues to deal with than we do. The Grineer actively encroach on Cetus, and the eidolons are too much to deal with on their own. He's had to make some hard choices for the survival of Cetus and the Unum," said Sanza, as his eyes focused back on his daughter, "but we do not. We are not being encroached by an ancient Sentient, nor do the Grineer consider this land so important that they have deigned to crush us under their boot. You will need to make difficult choices, but you do not need to invite difficulty." Sanza looked at his daughter, trying to tell if his impassioned words made any impact on her stubborn mind.

Ko-lee, for her part, did take a moment to let her father's words truly sink in. She knew that, just like her father, there would be times where she'd have to cut a deal or two with the Grineer, so that the settlers would be allowed to keep living on 'Grinner land'. But Ko-lee also saw the writing on the wall; the most recent discussion they had had with captain Jal Morgha was illuminating. The Grineer would push, and keep pushing, until the what little the settlement had was eroded away to nothing, and then the Grineer would use the corpses of her people as biomass for the cloning vats, or food for the ghouls. She didn't want it to get that far, and she was confident that if they just kept rolling over, that eventually, that's exactly what would happen. Her father, for the most part, seemed to think her fears were unfounded, but Jal was new. Her father had previously 'worked' with a Grineer major named Ferrah, who was happy to leave well enough alone, as long as Sharip didn't grow beyond it's original boundaries. Ferrah had been promoted though, and was longer stationed on earth, so they got to deal with a new upstart who had got his hands on a small bit of power and was very eager to use it. "I... I understand Chief Sanza," said Ko-lee, nodding her head, as though agreeing to her father's words. "I just want to make sure we're safe. That Sharip is safe." She looked at her father, doing her best with her words to impress upon him the urgency she felt about this decision.

"I worry that if we wait too long... then when, not if, the Grineer decide that they no longer want us here, that we will not be prepared. I'm not asking to station a Tenno beside every door. I simply want to get in touch with them, so that if it comes down to it, we have help that we can call. It would just be a measure of security," she said, feeling confident that he would understand. "I don't understand why you believe that every solution needs to be solved with a sword in hand. Peace is not obtained by poking an ursa with a stick," Sanza said, his lips pursed. "I'm not trying to poke the ursa, I'm trying to be prepared for when the damn thing wakes up!" Ko-lee responded, her voice nearly raised to a shout. "Things will change! And you won't be here. If something goes wrong, I'm the one who has to live with the consequences," she sighed, her voice lowering so much so that the last sentence was barely audible. "I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't do anything."

Sanza looked at his daughter, looked at the stress that she carried in her shoulders, and closed the distance so that he could place a hand on her shoulder. "I know, lee-lee. I've made mistakes, and some of those mistakes still haunt me. I'm not trying to hold you back because I'm an old man who doesn't know how to grow with the times, I'm simply trying to prevent you from making the same mistakes as I did. You might not see it as an aggressive act, but the Grineer will. Jal will use it, use you and Sharip, as a stepping stone, if you let him. You need to play it carefully, and dropping a Tenno into the situation would be akin to letting a bomb go off in the settlement." He mused for a moment, before continuing, "maybe literally. Even if you had a Tenno that you could call, what would happen if you did? We would likely be caught between the crossfire of an overwhelming military force and a one man army." His eyes flickered down to the zaw at her waist, her right hand unconsciously playing with the handle. "Once you have a weapon as an option, it will be incredibly tempting to use it as a solution for every problem. The Tenno will feel like a gun you can fire at anything. Need a tireless worker? A bodyguard? A soldier? A leader?" Ko-lee's eyebrows scrunched in confusion at the last one, and she glanced up at her father. In response, he continued, "The Tenno may not speak, but their handler, the Lotus, does. It's how you would communicate with them. She speaks through them. For them." Ko-lee was clearly shocked at the information.

"I wasn't aware of that," she said to her father. "But I guess it makes sense. If they don't speak, they still have to be able to answer your questions somehow." Sanza nodded his head, then picked up from where he had left off. "The Tenno may be silent, but the Lotus is not, and she can be very charismatic, when she wants to be. She speaks in a soft manner, but with a quality that makes it very clear she will be listened to. And you have to remember, this voice comes from the body of a Tenno. That combination is very powerful, and 'very' hard to say no to." Sanza took a moment to look at his daughter, and he knew that he needed to be explicit with his next words. "Ko-lee. I have heard your request as Chief in training of the Sharip settlement. As the current Chief, I am declining your request. You may not request the assistance of a Tenno, nor have any correspondence with a Tenno in any capacity for, or in regards to, this settlement." It was never easy to tell your kid no, no matter how old they got. However, he was the Chief of Sharip first, and a father second. She would live.

Ko-lee, for all the emotion she had previously displayed in the argument, took her father's words with grace. "I understand, Chief Sanza. I... I need to think on what you've said. I won't be long," she said formally, and with all of the poise of a chief in training, left her father's presence. And for a brief moment, Chief Sanza really did believe that she wasn't bothered by his declaration. That is, until flavorful expletives echoed across the cobbled roads of Sharip, until finally fading in the distance, to the beginning sounds of rain.

"I just don't understand why he's so damn stubborn," said Ko-lee, her boots stomping through the muck and underbrush. "I know he knows what I'm talking about, but it's like he thinks I'm just gonna go power crazy once I can get in touch with the Tenno. But how would he know that? He's not the damn Unum." Ko-lee's muttering continued, as she wandered her way though the forest, without any particular destination in mind. But suddenly, she came to a stop, her hand quickly reaching towards the handle of her zaw. She could hear something echoing through the rain and the forest, like some sort of spirit trying to lure her in. She made sure not to move a muscle, and strained to hear the sound over the roar of the rain. "Whistling?" she muttered, her lips barely moving to make the sound. The Grineer didn't whistle, but everyone in the settlement knew not to come out in to the forest. That technically included her, but as chief in training, the rules lay a little less heavily upon her.

She did her best to creep forward towards where she believed she heard the sound from, as it occasionally wavered in and out. The situation was odd enough that she truly began to wonder if this was some sort of spirit; the intentionally discordant tones of the song enough to put her on edge. Eventually though, she made her way close enough to spot from a distance what was making the noise. "Who... what?" she said to herself, utterly confused at the sight. It was... a person? In really rough shape, from the look of it. But they looked odd, unlike anyone she had seen before. They were soft and vaguely round, as though they had never really seen hard labor, and their skin pale, as though rarely touched by the sun. Their skin was incredibly clear; none of the blemishes of early childhood adorning their face, arms, or any other exposed bit of skin that she could see.

Speaking of exposed skin, they had a piece of cloth wrapped around their waist, and some sort of half fabric covering the top part of their chest. It was... pretty immodest actually, nearly showing off this person's well endowed chest, and Ko-lee could feel heat rise in her cheeks. But it was clear that the clothing wasn't designed like that, and had been repurposed for the wound. They also had a lower covering for both legs, with sewed on pockets near their thighs, like Grineer armoring would sometimes have for carrying ammo. However, she didn't think that it was meant to be armor at all, just clothing. The style was strange, and nearly all black, save for a few colorful icons and markings on her clothes. Some sort of insignia, perhaps? She was leaning towards Corpus, although she saw nothing recognizable that would mark them as such, and none of the mechanical affects that were generally part of a Corpus member's body. Their face was odd as well, having a more masculine jaw line, and overall, she couldn't even tell the person's gender, much less their allegiances. What was clear though, was that they were much too put together to be Grineer. And there was no chance she was going to leave them out in the forest to suffer.

"Dad's going to hate this," Ko-lee said with a smirk.