Moncilat IV-B, Throne's Fortune Headquarters

Col'un and Prumila were not having a good day. After the fright of the meteoroid attack, they'd put Nhoot to bed and settled into their own, whispering plans and quietly debating if it would be better to have their oath witnessed at the company area on Homeplate or if they could get permission from Lady Ah'nuriel to have it ceremony at her manse. And then they'd fallen asleep mid-sentence, waking to find themselves on a ship blindfolded and manacled. The scents were unfamiliar save for Nhoot. As they listened to the shuttle crew talking on the comms, they both came to the disconcerting realization that they'd been kidnapped.

Both their hearts fell as they heard the crew casually discussing what they'd get in return for Nhoot and the equipment they'd carried - there was no discussion of barter-terms for them. That wasn't good. They had disembarked and counted steps until the blindfolds were removed. They met and scented their lead captor, who called himself Freelord Svitre. Svitre was overjoyed to have confirmation the Nhoot was in his 'care'. Their hearts sank, realizing that they were both in all likelihood not leaving without help. After Svitre had personally taken charge of Nhoot, they were re-blindfolded and moved again. Steps were counted and finally the manacles were removed and they were roughly shoved forward. Their cell had poor lighting, but it appeared to be a reconditioned part of a ship. As the hatch slammed on their cell, the two began whispering to each other urgently, with the two of them keeping their upper eyes on the hatch.

"We will need to escape. Search the room." Without waiting to check, Prumila began a methodical search. It seemed their cell was also used for storage of basic items, but nothing sharp or obviously dangerous looking at first. Under the sink there were cleaning products, along with a few warnings as far as what not to mix them with.

Col'un took a breath. "I think I have something." He took a few bottles from a storage locker, sniffing the contents. "These two mixed will make an acid. We can use that to eat through the door lock."

Prumila quirked. "Husband, you will someday need to explain how you acquired this knowledge."

Col'un's fur fluttered. "Well, I didn't really have a lot of toys growing up." He shrugged. "So...sometimes I got into what the Lords would call 'shameful hooliganism' and sent to youth reform programs. It kinda worked, but it didn't exactly save me from being placed on the Hidepiercer for littering."

"And now you're in Security." There was a quick forehead-touch before Prumila laid out what she'd found. "Wire coils, broken impact spanner, spare door bearings and some spray bottles. Got anything flammable?"

"Not yet. But we can take the wire and make a jumper. We acid-wash the hatch lock, run a line so we can get out without an alarm, find weapons and then Nhoot, and then we go to their ship bay and steal something."

Prumila's face quirked. "There is one small flaw with this plan."

"Say on, wife."

"Neither of us know how to fly a ship."

There was a grimace as Col'un realized that reality, then his face set. "No time like the present to learn."

"Or convince one of their pilots to fly for us." Prumila's voice was similarly grim.

"We could also find the communications room and send a message to the ship."

Prumila sat heavily, massaging her legs and back. "There is another small problem."

"My joints hurt too."

"We'll take some time to rest before we escape."

Col'un settled on the bed next to her, going to work. "Well then, we should make ourselves useful during that time."

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk rubbed the bridge of his nose as he considered his actions, as well as what was next. As he walked back to the stockade the rest of the ground teams were returning. They were able to count and smell - it didn't take long for the medical bay to be overwhelmed with requests for rapid fixes to their gravity related issues. As Gryzzk made his way to the brig, it was not difficult to figure out which direction the company wanted to run. He looked over the four prisoners who'd had some time to consider their options.

The leader of the four stepped forward. "Seilond. Sworn to Freelord Svitre. We would speak, if speaking earns us life."

"That depends entirely on the manner and accuracy of your words." Gryzzk's voice was cool. "Locations and layouts of depots and bases. Number of ships. Cooperation is essential to your survival."

"What of the rest of our clan?"

"That will depend entirely on their level of cooperation. Your Freelord was a nuisance, but has now declared himself a threat to the system - I'm going to presume the attempted meteor shower was at his behest. His life is quite frankly forfeit. But your lives still lie in the balance. My daughter has been taken, along with two of my clan. Barter well with your knowledge, and there may be life ahead. My XO is recording. Speak all you know. You will be given a meal shortly."

From their scent, Gryzzk would have almost sworn that the meal offer was an inducement equal to the threat of being tossed out the airlock. As soon as he left the stockade, he tapped his tablet for a channel.

Captain Wilson's section was loud, and playing some sort of instrumental music that tickled Gryzzk's memory - after thinking, he remembered it from the Johnwick/babayaga movie. It seemed as though news had spread fully, and every section was preparing to fight.

"Captain Wilson, Major Gryzzk - first could you turn the music down a bit?"

The music was duly turned down a bit. Just enough for Gryzzk to hear his mess officer's deep voice. "Major, you need a little extra mid-chow? I mean I heard we got a couple-few guests for curry tonight."

"A request of sorts - could you make sure that when the meals are delivered to the stockade tonight that they are not...adulterated courtesy of the deliverer?"

There was a heavy sigh over the comm. "My grandmama always said it was a kindness to spit in the pot for strangers, that way there's a little bit of you in what they eat. But if you think it best..."

"In this instance I do, Captain."

"Alright. We'll get back to it."

"My thanks, Captain." Gryzzk killed the channel and listened for a moment. It sounded like there were more open doors then usual and every section was playing something loud. The braziers in each section, usually used to mask ship-scents and other noxious odors had been filled with blood-oil. Whether it was Vilantian, Terran, or Hurdop, the war anthems were being dusted off. Gryzzk paused to consider a few things - there was a vast difference between the Three-Day-Kerfuffle and this. The war had been an impersonal thing, for the most part. This situation was a whole new beast to butcher. He contemplated this as he walked to the shuttle dock, and his communicator chimed.

"Gryzzk here."

Captain Rostin's voice sounded a bit concerned from what Gryzzk could tell. In the background Gryzzk could faintly hear a song about the Terran Valhalla. "Ah, Freelord Major - I have new questions."

"The ship is in a mood."

"Well, yes. But it's not like when we would go to war. The company restraint is, ah...minimal."

"Captain, in truth my ship is in a similar state. Col'un and Prumila were making preparations for giving each other their First Oath, and Nhoot is well-loved within the clan. Knowing they are in danger has made the company restless in preparation to inflict rough justice."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"The Vilantian Navy was nothing like this. I even checked the leadership manual, and there is no situation like this referenced or listed."

"Captain, a suggestion - give the leadership manual a place of honor on your shelf and reference it as little as possible. Our companies will not respond fully to that which makes the Vilantian heart sing. Take the tactical manual and memorize it before thinking on how to make it better. Then invite First Sergeant Hikaru to take a meal with you and ask his thoughts. We have been provided senior non-commissioned leadership for a reason. They've been living this life since we were barely free of mothers-milk, and their experience serves well as a steadying influence. I know it is not standard Vilantian practice, but we are learning anew."

"Understood, Freelord Major. Rostin out."

Gryzzk took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly as he watched an external feed of the shuttle docking, lest the doctor sedate him or something. Finally the shuttle opened and Larion stepped out first, followed by Yomios, who's fur was well and truly dissembled to the point that she resembled the Terran happy painter. Somewhat. Next was Miroka and Hoban, who looked like the situation was at best awkward. Gryzzk looked up at the two of them and tried not to be too intimidated - he reminded himself that according to them he was the intimidating one. Still, he squared his shoulders and tugged his uniform shirt to snugly fit his torso before speaking softly.

"Welcome aboard. I would remind you both to watch your heads. We can make accommodations for many things, however we cannot refit the ship in the middle of a job. Ordinarily I would offer a tour of the ship, however I believe you will need to visit the medical bay as a first order of business. Our doctor will be able to make recommendations based on your physique, and I would ask that you follow them to the best of your ability. It would be a pleasant surprise for him - my species as well as the Terrans seem to be allergic to following medical advice." He crinkled a smile. "And while I know that Captain Hoban is eager to show you to your quarters, he has duties that require his presence on the bridge. Private Larion will be your escort for the moment."

Miroka seemed to be trying very hard to draw strength from Hoban, her eyes following him as he casually sauntered out on the way to the bridge. Yomios was looking anywhere but at Gryzzk before she finally spoke.

"I, I thank you. This is. A new part of my life. It. I. I have been tested morally, and failed. I'll, I make myself as useful as possible to you and your ship."

"That is my hope as well. For now, the first thing you should attend is yourselves. Your effects will be in your quarters, which have been set to Collective standard gravity in order to assist your transition. New Casablanca is Terran-standard, but inroads are being made. It is quite possible that there will be changes in the future."

Miroka spoke, her voice a whisper as they walked in a slouched manner to keep their heads from brushing the ceiling. "I am uncertain if we are prepared for such a place. From what Hoban says, it is a place of violence, drink, brothels, and other such things as to...tempt."

Gryzzk had a light smile. "It is that as well. But there are other places that are not as dedicated to vice. That said, there are certainly many ships that are going many places, and perhaps in New Casablanca you may both discover a more suitable location." They passed the armory section, which was inspecting and cleaning weapons while they sang along with the documentary recording of O'Brien extolling the virtues of being in the cavalry in a time of war. The Moncilat shuddered and walked a bit more quickly to medical - the theme there was a bit more somber calling all hands to hoist the colors high and then heave-ho thieves and beggars, for they were immortal. Gryzzk nodded to Larion who began introducing the medical department to the Moncilat, much to the dismay of all parties involved. Finally Gryzzk returned to the bridge.

The bridge was not quite chaos, but every station was active and apparently either Edwards or Reilly had taken control of the sound system, as the old song from their recon days with Lieutenant Muranaga was being played at a volume that still allowed for conversation. Hoban and O'Brien were discussing tactical maneuvers for various scenarios, Edwards was working the scanners for drive trails, and Reilly was on the comms with Stalwart Rose in the Terran war language which somehow seemed fitting. Edwards and Reilly both had braces and small mobility aids at their sides.

Gryzzk let them work, moving to his quarters and closing the door just enough to keep the worst of the noise out. "XO, what have we learned?"

Rosie maneuvered her emitter through the crack in the space, which had the effect of most of her form clipping through the doorway. "For starters, Skunkworks has some outstanding sources. Out of the three prime bases, it looks like the most likely one is Moncilat IV-B - high gravity so that their Moncilat guests won't even think about escaping, and scans that they've acquired show it's well constructed with repurposed ship guns for defense. It'll take time, but Stewart and I can tag-team their firewalls if we're in proximity."

"Good. We may need control of their systems. What of our...guests?"

"The Moncilat are in their quarters. Doctor Cottle is griping that he's a doctor, not a xenobiologist. He has however found a treatment regimen that will buffer their physiology against local gravity so they can walk without excessive risk. they seem quite keen on learning what Terran cuisine holds. As for the ones in the stockade, they've been quite chatty - Chef Wilson decided to feed them early, and they've been quite happy to talk about everything they know - not a lot, but enough for us to get a general layout and start flipping through the assault plans. Freelord Major, if I may - whatever plan you have should give everyone something to do."

"That is the intent. I assume that the Throne's Fortune will not meekly submit to whatever we have planned."

Gryzzk lit up his tablet, a plan beginning to form as he took the data and began to work out where to go, occasionally stopping to look through various manuals of doctrine to determine what would be the best course of action. Finally he had the shape of a plan, before looking at the clock. Now it was time to attend to a meal.

The bridge was empty; apparently he was late and Rosie had taken it upon herself to dismiss them. Gryzzk smiled absently at the XO's attention to detail as he went to the mess hall where Hoban was waiting with Miroka and Yomios.

Hoban gave a weak smile. "Hey, Major. Figured it'd be rude for you to eat alone, so I gave 'em the three-cred tour of the ship."

Yomios slipped behind Miroka in a not-subtle manner, which made Gryzzk cock his head slightly. "Thank you for your diligent attention to our guests, Captain. Now, if we may - it's been a slightly busy day for all of us."

The four made a very awkward tableau as the went though the line - there were looks, with the Vilantians and Hurdop doing most of the staring. On the up side, the mess hall ceiling was high enough that the Moncilat could stand straight. On the down side, they more than towered over the crew. The mess squad was making gestures and questions before Wilson shoo'ed them away to address the newest entrants to the mess hall.

"Folks, you in for a treat tonight. Normally we'd have a few more items, but this is curry night and to be honest when we put other food out to compete the other food goes to recycling. The Major's wife - first one - came up with this recipe herself. It's Hurantian Curry, made up of stuff from all three worlds and it's illegal in seventeen systems - but I check with doc and he said you should be okay, personal spice preferences aside. And from the looks, you'uns need it cause I seen more meat on a hen's knee than you folk. Enjoy."

The four made their way to Gryzzk's table and settled in carefully. Oddly, the Moncilat seemed to keep as much distance from the table as they could. It was either the food or the company, but their scents had some form of resolute determination. There were experimental sniffs, nibbles, and then a few blinks and coughs from the Moncilat.

Yomios was able to speak first. "It is...is this a prank of some sort?"

Hoban shook his head. "Promise it isn't." He took a small amount from Miroka's tray and ate it, nodding. "Good stuff. Spicier than most, but that's only part of what makes it special."

"How?" Miroka was blinking.

Hoban shrugged. "Part of bonding as a company. Y'know, once a week everyone sits down and for one meal we eat the same stuff. Like the Major, he tries to get a little bit of everything from all three worlds - even if the Hurdop vegetables give him the rumble-tummy. Then there's Larion and Reilly - they both eat almost exclusively Vilantian stuff, but for different reasons. But this - this one meal out of the week, everyone from the Freelord down to the fella scraping the grunge out of the bottom of the cargo hold because he accidentally kicked Jonesy - we all share an experience."

"I...I see."

In testament to the doctor's analytical skill, the Moncilat were able to at least eat the curry - though Gryzzk did have some concerns about the attendant after-effects. The conversation was carefully neutral, with no real discussion of what was going to happen in the immediate future.

After, Gryzzk went back to his quarters, but something felt off as he continued his planning and sending of options to Stalwart Rose. Finally he went to bed, sleeping fitfully.

He woke the next morning, going to check on the state of Nhoot as was the habit. He blinked in a newly discovered realization. Everything was off because his daughter was gone, with a Nhoot sized hole in the ship's company. And that little thing made all the difference.

He grabbed a cup of tea for his mug, and stepped out to the filled bridge.

Reilly was first to talk to Gryzzk. "Major, we've been receiving hails from a 'Freelord Svitre' for the past three hours."

The command chair felt a touch colder as Gryzzk sat in it, nodding to Reilly. "Go ahead. If this is the call that I believe it is, nobody speaks until the call is completed. XO, backtrack to source if you can."

A scarred Hurdop appeared on the holo, his visage only somewhat distorted. The heavy scent of precious stones and shiny metals came across, along with scent of aggressive posture. "Ah. Freelord Gryzzk. I am pleased to take scent of your fur. I am Freelord Svitre, bearer of the Warblood Rose, fourth part of the Throne's Fortune Assemblage and sworn to the Throne until final wars of the gods. Your ship's time is awkward, as it's mid-day for us." An image of the flower-in-teeth was brought up below Svitre's face. "I present our clanmark as evidence of our willingness to barter in free exchange."

"To what purpose?"

"You have disrupted my plans. I have your daughter. Let us discuss terms for a fair exchange. Your clan is new and so a war between us would be seen as improper."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.