Homeplate

After their excursion to Vilantia, life settled into a routine of sorts for the spouses of the Legion. While a few of the spouses and attached personnel were content to make themselves useful with various basic tasks like maintenance of the legion area, some were looking to start a new life of sorts. Others were looking to continue their old careers in a new land. Even though they weren't on the ship, they carried some of the traditions – after a fashion. They didn't do curry night, but they would gather every week for a Spouses' Meal. The only rule was that everyone had to bring something new. There was wine, food, and gossip exchanged as everyone was finding new things and occasionally complaining about comforts they missed. It was odd in some ways – even though the spouses were not separated by rank or duty, their groupings seemed to mirror those on the ship.

Grezzk was listening and contemplating at this weeks' meal before she paused, a forkful of bison meatloaf halfway to her lips.

Kiole paused in her own eating, leaning to take a light sniff. "My shield, you have something meaningful that awaits your tongue."

There was a blink. "Yes. Listen to our clanmates, speaking about what they can't find here. Could we not start something like the Vilantian-Hurdop Trade cooperative here? We sit, share food and stories, but we all have a yearning for the homeworld. If we cannot easily go to Mother Vilantia and Father Hurdop, then perhaps it is time they made their way here." Her food was forgotten for the moment as a new thought danced in the background of her imagination, coming closer to being fully scented.

"It would cost."

Grezzk nodded agreement. "It would. But the income from everyone, pooled to purpose could bring things that would bring home here. Consider also, the other Legions that have formed and even the Throne's Dawn company. Proper brightwine, perishables – all the things that we forget until we lack them." Grezzk continued eating. "And not just goods, but services – how many children go waiting for a school with proper education? How many among the other Legions are like us, waiting and speaking wistfully of the hard times gone by?"

Kiole considered for a moment. "It is similar among Father Hurdop's children."

Lomeia's soft voice joined the conversation. "From the scents of the other Legions it seems they are waiting for a Lord or Lady to tell them what to do."

There was a long silence as Grezzk worked her mouth, a small pit of acid forming even as she spoke. "Then we should."

"Should what?" Kiole seemed curious.

"Found something. Build something." Grezzk paused. "We will call it...something."

Lomeia scrunched her face reflexively. "The Ministries..."

"I suppose one advantage of being here. The Ministries have less sway now, I think."

Lomeia looked down. "They are still powerful. Even broken, the Ministry of Culture has voices that call to maintain the past."

Kiole blinked as the tabletalk had died down, everyone catching a scent of something new from the two Freeladies conversation. "Our Throne is less cautious, but agreed. The Ministries may not approve of our blending." She rested her stump on her stomach with a light smile. "Though they may not have much choice in the future. It has already begun."

"Then we name it something that both cultures would accept as their own." Grezzk shifted a bit, not entirely comfortable with her own proposal, causing her to pause. Ghabri and Glaud took note of the meatloaf that sat piled on their mothers' utensil and started squirming toward the tantalizing treat that hung just outside their grasp. "I suppose the first thing we should do is ask questions."

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk awoke to something resembling calm in his quarters; his tablet was full of new messages – along with the now-normal injury reports of someone hyperextending a joint or bruising something, there was a note requesting a conference with the Stalwart Rose after breakfast. He walked out to the bridge, looking forward to morning tea and breakfast.

Rosie was not in a good mood. "Freelord Major, Captain Hoban said he's going to be late today and needs me to remain on the bridge."

"Any particular reason?"

"Officially? 'Insomnia.' Unofficially, Up until about three hours ago he was trying to talk the panties off of Miroka with ship-docking metaphors while she hinted he might look good with a beard. Soon as he's on duty I'm going to lunch with Chief Tucker."

"A question occurs – how do you know what they were talking about?"

Rosie favored him with a look that suggested he'd taken too many low-G-induced headers off the ceiling. "Major, remember how I'm the AI? With access to every system on the ship, including comms? Other than that I know who says what, who they say it to, and what the favorite fanfic of the ship is – currently it's Planet Texas, where the company has to repopulate a planet made up entirely of clones of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders and players while fighting off the heathens of Planet Philadelphia who wish to steal the secret sauce to create a new generation of Eagles. It's implied that you do most of the...heavy lifting." Rosie let that sink in, and then continued, much to Gryzzk's dismay. "I don't like it. Plot's thinner than a set of Redlight lingerie and my job appears to be wearing scraps of cloth and informing the men that you have made it with a woman."

"Was that synopsis entirely necessary?"

"Absolutely not, but I'm missing breakfast with Patrick, and I don't like suffering alone."

Gryzzk went through breakfast and part of him marveled at the company. While he could certainly tell the newer troops from the originals, there didn't seem to be a large gap socially. It was very unlike what he'd seen growing up, where clans formed the core, and the spouses were almost strangers. Certainly he and Grezzk had been an oddity of sorts – the first of many, it seemed. Once the thoughts were completed, he saw a flash of purple as Nhoot was trying to beat her best time bouncing off the walls through the ship.

At least some parts of the ship were taking a positive spin on the situation. Gryzzk carefully made his way to the bridge and settled in with his tea as the rest of the bridge squad filed in to take their posts.

It was exactly nine am, and the day hadn't gone completely to crap. Gryzzk considered this a good day on the job. Fortunately, the squad was serious and attentive as they picked over items from the evening to correlate and build into something meaningful that might help with the day's events.

Reilly was the first to have something to report. "Major, orbital traffic control requests we hold position for one hour before proceeding. Our current track is 'inelegant', according to them. A scathing review of the XO's piloting follows, saying it is machinelike and has no soul. They've got similar comments about Stewart's driving, if that helps."

Rosie snorted. "Advise Orbital Control that if they want soul they should put on some Roberta Flack and lick the warmest part of my coolant pipe."

Gryzzk checked his tablet for a moment as the reports continued, this one from Edwards. "Major, we've got four unknowns hovering at a good distance. Designs look like Hurdop, looks like they've got some dual registration happening – registrations under Throne's Fortune and the Guardians of Moncilat."

O'Brien flexed her hands and put her coffee in the cup-holder. "They're tracking, but no lock. It'll take thirty seconds to go from weapons cold to hot. Shields are up."

Gryzzk considered. "Get the torpedo bay to standby power."

The sergeant major nodded. "They'll be out and tracking five seconds after your go."

"Reilly, get a channel to the other ships."

"We're hot, Major."

Gryzzk tugged his uniform shirt down slightly. "This is Major Gryzzk. Currently we're tracking four unknowns carrying registrations from Hurdop and Moncilat. Defensive posture recommended."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Captain Grant giggled. "Oh, please let them try something."

"Captain Grant, I remind you that the Hyneman is a civilian vessel with no armament."

"While what you say is true, space is kind of a nasty place. We got plans for this."

While they were having that discussion, the Leafborn's captain chimed in. "They are powering weapons and accelerating toward us." With that pronouncement, the Moncilat escorts split to take very aesthetic but tactically useless positions with Captain Dulaine keeping his seat only with a mighty effort.

"Ooh time to show off." With that the Hyneman launched itself at the Hurdop formation, the disc around the base of ship beginning to spin.

Gryzzk spat softly while Rosie sounded the alert for the company. "Twilight...Captain Grant – be advised that some of those ships may be crewed by literal children, and you still have no weapons."

Whatever else could be said, the Hyneman was fast, and Gryzzk noticed with a slight tinge of concern that it wasn't just the disc that was spinning, it was the entire ship itself. Or at least the exterior. The reply from Captain Grant was a cocky smile and a thumbs-up gesture. "We don't need weapons, we've got physics."

Gryzzk wasn't exactly in a position to drink deep of whatever wisdom the words carried. "O'Brien, target their weapons. XO, optimal attack position attack." He paused to address the holographic Captain Rostin. "Stalwart Rose, recommend you maneuver and salvo the railguns into their engine compartments."

"Ah-ah-ah yessir." Gryzzks display shifted to tactical mode, removing the other captains and showing only the ships currently part of the engagement – the Hyneman continued to accelerate, shifting itself and then repositioning before firing engines and literally slamming itself into one ship, causing the impacted ship to spin wildly out of control. The Hyneman then ricocheted into two other ships, the disk simply shredding the structures that held the engines and exterior power conduits. The fourth ship, having seen the destructive power of the Hyneman decided that discretion was the better part of valor and beat the hastiest of retreats.

Rosie hmph'ed softly. "And they bitch about my driving."

Gryzzk blinked a few times. "XO, save the critique of Orbital Control until we're sure we're clear. Edwards, detailed scan. O'Brien, keep weapons at standby power." He paused for a moment. "And at some point, someone will explain how the Hyneman is not a weapon."

Rosie was the first to answer. "Under the Terran Contact Armistice, weapons were extensively defined and delineated, with prohibition applied to civilian ships – defensive shielding is allowed, however weapons are not. The Collective failed to take Terran creativity into account when the Armistice was signed."

"So the entire ship is a weapon."

"Legally speaking it is a defensive exostructure. The fact that it just disabled three other ships in the time it took the other ships to say 'What the fuck is that' is entirely immaterial."

Gryzzk had no reply beyond a heavy sigh. "Is this something I will need to be aware of in the future?"

"Probably."

Further conversation was interrupted by Reilly. "So, we're being hailed. Leafborn and Hyneman want to talk."

Captain Grant was in a celebratory mood – as his form returned to the holo, there was a dance and hip movement that reminded Gryzzk of a marionette being handled by a somewhat awkward string-master. "Behold the power of science, bitches!"

Gryzzk's tone was dry. "Consider it beheld, Captain Grant. Captain Dulaine, would it be possible to make arrangements for a tow and subsequent disposition of the three ships that the Hyneman ah, bumped into."

Captain Dulaine swallowed and nodded. "We...we can."

"Very well. With that, I would like to re-schedule the morning conference for this afternoon, as I believe we have personnel required who are not available at this time."

Dulaine exhaled sharply. "I would prefer to speak with you privately, if possible."

Gryzzk spread his hands casually. "Of course. XO, please return the ship to coordinates previously designated by Orbital Control. Captains, if there is nothing further, I will be in conference with Captain Dulaine momentarily."

Gryzzk gathered his cup and went to his quarters, where he replaced his tea with the jasmine-mint blend that seemed to be calming. Whatever was coming was going to be interesting. He settled in his chair and thought for a moment.

"XO, unless I say otherwise, consider the following conversation with Captain Dulaine to be quarantined."

"Understood, Freelord Major."

Gryzzk straightened his shirt again. "Reilly, please send the communication through. Set scent transmission at fifty percent. I'd rather we not spook the good captain."

It took a few moments, but Captain Dulaine's form resolved in his own private area. The light was warm, the scents heavy and moist. It was almost a garden, with plants flowering among structures that almost seemed to be alive themselves – the closest reference Gryzzk could think of was the mess hall with it's hydroponic system that fed the herbs along each wall. Despite the beauty behind him, Captain Dulaine's face was pinched.

"Major, I am hoping you can assist with a...delicate situation."

Gryzzk knew what was coming next, but he needed confirmation. "That covers a broad range of possibilities, Captain."

There was a bit of a quirk – Gryzzk wasn't entirely sure how to read the expression, but the scent that came across seemed troubled. "More than I had considered at first."

"Which item weighs most heavily on you, Captain?"

"The...our helmsmen. They seem quite taken with each other and I fear she may have fallen to the perils of Captain Kirk Malady."

"I've not heard of such a thing." Gryzzk once again mentally cursed the upbringing that failed to include instruction of Terran interactions.

"The ancient Terran historical archive has fables of a spacefaring Captain Kirk who became romantically involved with many females of many species. While the fables themselves are obviously fiction, there seems to be a leaf of truth there. But the fables never speak of the aftermath, with the Terran gallivanting off to his next conquest, leaving an emotionally stricken individual hoping beyond hope for...whatever it is the Terrans have that is desirable."

"And you have concerns that Hoban may leave your pilot in such a state?"

"Grave concerns. The Terrans even joke about it. 'Once you've been Riker'ed too, no others will do' is the shortest one. And the news has spread across the ship - I fear that with the actions of the Hyneman it will only worsen."

There was a pensive sip of tea as Gryzzk considered how to frame things. "Your desire to safeguard your crew is an admirable thing. I would recommend that you speak with your pilot in terms of how it has affected her professional duty. Once is understandable, but multiple times is cause for concern."

"Would it be possible to advise how you've avoided your crew being...Kirk'ed?"

Gryzzk blinked. "Well, a great deal of it has to do with our culture – Vilantians and Hurdop are sensitive to scent, and it appears that the necessary markers of compatibility are rare. With that said, my communications sergeant is currently involved with a native of Vilantia, which leads to my second piece of advice - communication. While all parties are adults, an unusual situation such as this is something worthy of direct professional counseling."

"Does that actually work?"

"It seems to. My wife was the one who spoke with Sergeant Reilly regarding her – her relationship. Perhaps you could relay your concerns through the XO? Let her know that it's not embarrassing, but at the same time there is an expectation of her due to her rank and station."

Captain Dulaine seemed to consider this. "I think that may work. Now, the second concern – the Throne's Fortune group. We...our weaknesses are on display. We can defend quite well, but our tactical doctrine is one that does not seem to promise a fruitful end."

"I am formulating a plan, however there may need to be agreement with the other ships. My species evolved as ambush predators, so the plan will likely align with that thinking."

"I will leave you to it. I must speak with my XO."

"Let me know if you require additional aid. Major Gryzzk out."

Gryzzk sat there, quietly contemplating if he should punt the responsibility for talking to Hoban to Rosie. It was going to have to wait. He refilled his tea, and then stepped back onto the bridge with a sleepy looking Hoban was sitting at his station with a large container of coffee.

Hoban threw an awkward grin at Gryzzk once they were both settled. "I, uh, sorry about sleeping in today Major, I just...well...time got away from us."

Gryzzk exhaled softly. "Captain Hoban, while I do not wish you to be an automaton, at the same time we have set an expectation that you will be on time and fit for duty. Events happened that could have used your professionalism. I look forward to seeing you at your post tomorrow. At the proper hour."

Hoban looked down with a small amount of embarrassment. "Yes sir."

O'Brien glowered. "Are me and the Old Man the only ones on this bridge capable of having a normal relationship?"

Reilly cleared her throat. "You mean the Major who is currently married to two lovely ladies, one of whom hails from a planet that was up until recently the sworn enemy of the good Major's planet?"

The Sergeant Major paused as realization sank in. "...Fuck."

"In any event..." Gryzzk attempted to steer the bridge conversation in a new direction before it became far too descriptive. "We have another concern on our hands. The Throne's Fortune group. Three of their ships are in tow toward Moncilat. Once they are there, I would like for the XOs to...go through their luggage and determine where their base is, as well as any schematics of the layout. After that, we will leave the vessels adrift as bait. Throne's Fortune will send ships for a tow, leaving their defenses more vulnerable. At that point, we will be splitting each of our remaining ship's company into two groups. Moncilat ground teams will surveil and report activity that seems detrimental to our employers. The other team will be performing a ground-based assault. It is possible that the three ships in tow will be taken to another location, but we'll have to take the risk in order to have their base weakened and distracted. Our packet from Skunkworks included three probable bases where they're operating from, and I would like to have some certainty before we make an offensive move."

"Spreading the butter kinda thin here Major." O'Brien was fairly direct. "Plus the gravitational swivel from Moncilat to Hurdop is going to wreck some knees."

"Options?"

"Secure Moncilat first. If we try to move against the Throne's Fortune without covering our ass, we're one R-space beacon from them going to ground. Plus it gives bodies time to re-adjust."

"Acceptable." Gryzzk rose. "XO, maintain course, the rest of the bridge squad will report to the conference room. Feel free to listen in and give recommendations. But if at all possible refrain from profane language in your analyses."

The bridge squad piled into the conference with their refreshments. The hologram lit up with images of the other three captains, with Captain Dulaine lifting his hand for attention first.

"Captains, Major. I'm afraid I have grave news. The three ships that were in tow have...gone missing."

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