Draconis System
Itrop surveyed his ship with confidence. The Divine Breeze was ready with a crew that could take to the stars and enforce their will upon species that didn't have the same drive. Or weapons. They were moving toward Moncilat, preparing to make the jump that would take them to a fresh start. Then ships started making their way in-system with markings from Hurdop and carrying goods from Moncilat.
It was as if the gods themselves were teasing him with ideas and plans that were so tantalizingly close to fruition, and then failing. Over drinks and meals, he slowly found out that the twilight-damned Foreign Legion had done it again. This time the Nameless had even dared to take a Lords duty and declare a Clanwar. The particulars weren't exactly meaningful, but the first item of import was that he'd dared to rise well beyond his station in acting with the authority of a Lord - even a half-lord as he was. The second item of import was that they'd won - or at least appeared to, as other ships carrying heavy battle damage and fragmented reports from their base on Moncilat IV-B which seemed to indicate severe loss. As far as their Freelord, it seemed the position had become available to whomever showed the most teeth. There was a lesson here, buried under all of this.
Itrop ruminated with his thoughts in what was generously termed a conference room in the back of a bar that was known as the Neutral Zone. It was one of the few places that didn't bother with organic bouncers or security - even the bartenders were rumored to be cleverly remote-controlled robots. What it did have was multiple turrets positioned to allow auto-targeting on limbs first. Warning signs next to advertisements indicated that the limb-targeting algorithm was only seventy percent accurate. Bob had calculated the odds of a fight actually breaking out at this meeting as negligible as nobody wanted to test those odds.
The meeting was something he hadn't received an invitation to, but he was there nonetheless. In the immediate chaos of counting survivors, a few of his sworn had managed to listen and talk to the Throne's Fortune - and Itrop had discovered several things that were helpful.
The first thing each of the other captains noticed as they straggled in was Itrop, eating from a banquet table that had been laden with richly spiced foods. Overall it wasn't what Itrop considered fine dining, but for the captains it was extravagance. Their initial confusion was compounded by the presence of Bob. The rumors about the Helot fighting ability were legend, and for one to be standing next to a Vilantian was enough to give pause.
Itrop looked at the holstered worn weapons that contrasted with their finery and made a slight gesture to the table. As a secondary item, Itrop realized that there was a further contract with his middle-of-the road clothes and bright shiny pistol, but there was no use in bemoaning fashion choices at this point. "Please, Commodores. You've earned at least this much."
They didn't move. One crossed his arms and spoke. "What's this about."
"This? A meal, courtesy of Itrop - that would be me. You were all planning on talking about who should become the new Freelord, or Admiral or First Captain or whatever title catches your fancy that also means you're in charge of the remains of the fourth part of the Throne's Fortune Assemblage." Itrop raised his wineglass. "May Freelord Svitre rest well."
Itrop paused to take a sip before continuing. "It was going to be a long and dull conversation, fueled by wine and anger and shame - and in all likelihood someone was going to decide they would triumph by force of arms and then the whole thing devolves and whoever you all have as your seconds would be here to do the same thing this time next week." Itrop took a bite of fruit, chewing and swallowing before exhaling with content. "Personally, I find the idea of greeting the gods on an empty stomach distasteful."
Another one spoke. "And what would you have us do, Itrop?"
"Listen. And then decide. You see, I've been able to do some reading, some research. Do you know that the Terrans evolved as persistence hunters? No lying in wait, no attacking as a group. They simply chased their prey until it was too tired to run and chose to die rather than flee further. The Terrans have taken this trait to the stars, persistently hunting, harrying what they desire until that desire yields itself because the prey is too tired to think of another path. I ask you to listen because there are elements out there who see the Terrans for what they are - patient executioners. They see the Foreign Legion and it's cousins as a blight, bringing together things under the Terran banner with a rain of credits masking the scent of conquest. Every day Vilantians and Hurdop swallow their pride, abandon principle and the Clan Way in exchange for life as a lesser being."
The first one to speak moved, taking a chair before sipping at a cup for a moment. "And I suppose you have a plan."
Itrop smiled genially. "Of course I do. If you care to hear it, all you have to do is take a seat."
___________
Vilantia Prime, Throne City
The aftermath was something of a new thing. Terran funeral traditions did not seem to entirely mesh with Vilantia's. Where the Lord would lead a solemn and small meal with an empty place for the departed, the Terrans almost demanded that the life of the deceased be celebrated. By the time they'd gotten back to Cartre's home apartment block a feast of finger-foods and drink had been procured from...somewhere. Gryzzk suspected Captain Gregg-Adams had been behind it all, as this seemed to be in his orbit. Several kegs of the Grand Warrior house ale, brightwines from several locations mixed with chicken nuggets of several varieties and Terran beer. There was even a bottle of distilled catnip from somewhere, which made the two Moncilat happy and suspicious all at once.
The memories of that night were sparse - Gryzzk remembered whistling quite a bit, as it was required for the anthem of the evening. The company members were familiar with the tune, and were quick to introduce the uninitiated with the lyrics. The sworn of Lord A'Gulus picked up on it rapidly and were singing along themselves, with the stanza "life's a piece of shit, when you look at it" being particularly popular.
Eventually the local constables stopped by as there were reports of a disturbance. Reilly was a boon in explaining what was happening; either that or her manic gesturing as she explained that Terrans celebrated a life well-lived during what was supposed to be a quiet moment of collective reflection so confused the constables that they eventually gave a harrumphing request to keep the celebrations slightly less rambunctious.
Reilly's nod and promise was immediately put to the test by O'Brien singing that they could take her urn to Fenway and spread her ashes all about, take her down to Wally Beach and dump the sucker out - and that she could really give a shit because she was going out in style. The smattering of Terrans joining her singing was a bit disconcerting. And also rambunctious.
The other memory that was clear that night was the first appearance of Carinda in her Legion uniform. Callioe was very much taken by the sight and kept moving herself between Carinda and Gryzzk, keeping a hand on their uniforms as if afraid that whatever good was coming from this would dissipate if she wasn't touching someone. Somewhere along the line there were a multitude of toasts to Cartre, Carinda, and Callioe before working their way through the ranks and others. Eventually they'd made it back to the shuttles and were brought back aboard by Rosie - he remembered something of a broadcast that the shuttles were being piloted by automation due to extenuating circumstances.
Gryzzk remembered all this as he walked through the breakfast chow line with what could only be termed one of the more epic hangovers of his life. The ship wasn't helping - the in-system R-space transit may have had lingering effects on the engines that would likely mean some drydock time, and some long nights for Chief Tucker. Which meant they probably had some time to train before they went out again. The transit to R-space itself was a bit rougher than normal, with the ship shivering and almost fighting her way through the transition. Gryzzk sighed softly as this meant he was going to have to avoid Engineering for a few days - though in fairness, he rarely went there in any event, and he had things to read today. After that, he had to re-read, as six eyes refused to focus for more than a few minutes. Finally everything made enough sense that he was comfortable with his decision.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
He meandered a bit after breakfast, making a mental note to make sure both Tucker and Rosie were present tomorrow. For today, it was hangover curatives and light meals and all the paperwork he could stomach. Gryzzk settled into his command chair with the staff all nursing some level of hangover - Hoban's may have been the least pained, though the scent of Miroka was strong about him. Nhoot carried Rhipl'i with her to the bridge quietly and slowly clambered into Gryzzk's lap before her breathing became regular and slow. It seemed like she'd had a busy morning taking care of a small horde of mourning and catastrophically hungover troops.
Gryzzk looked at the bridge for a moment, unconsciously stroking Nhoot's fur as he spoke quietly. "Squad, I would like your opinion regarding something. I'm looking at hiring some additional personnel as an evening shift of sorts - specifically I'd like Larion to run the sensors and have Miroka and Yomios as helm and communications, respectively."
O'Brien's eyebrow lifted. "I note that you haven't mentioned a replacement for the tactical station."
Gryzzk gestured at O'Brien's station. "Sergeant Major, that is a responsibility I'd prefer to delegate to you. I've seen and know enough of about the other three to have confidence that the risk I'm taking is acceptable, but with respect to tactical - I will have faith in your choice."
"It's like you're smart sometimes, Major."
"Thank you. Now if there are no objections, your duties over the next week will include training the second group. I do have one more call to place before I ask them to report." Gryzzk tapped his tablet.
"Medical, Doc Cottle - we're getting a new batch of painkillers in the printer now so deal with it."
Gryzzk cleared his throat. "Major Gryzzk has a question, Doctor. Regarding the Moncilat - could we reasonably expect them to serve aboard this ship without long-term adverse affects?"
"Dammit Major I'm a doctor, not a - dammit." There was a pause. "Theoretically, yes. They'd need regular treatment and some therapies, but if their quarters were kept at their standard, they'd probably be okay. I'd recommend weekly physicals - frankly there's not enough data. Most folks from low-G worlds only show up on high-G ones when they have to. S'why being designated the Terran ambassador's usually a punishment assignment."
"Very well. Take detailed notes regarding their conditions. Major Gryzzk out."
With that done, Gryzzk looked over to Rosie. "XO, draw up the necessary contracts for Yomios and Miroka." He then shifted just a bit before selecting for companywide broadcast. "This is Major Gryzzk. Private Larion, Miroka, Yomios. Report to bridge as soon as possible."
The three all arrived to see Rosie shushing them for quiet, and pointing to the sleeping Morale Officer on Gryzzk's lap. He smiled a bit as the three assembled as quietly as they could.
"Thank you for your time, first off." Gryzzk tapped at his tablet for a moment. "I want the three of you to know that what I'm giving you is not an order. That said, I've reviewed your records - each of you have talents that the Legion could make better use of. If any of you declines this, your current contracts will remain in force. However I would like each of you to take a place on the bridge within your respective skillsets. The three of you would be brought to the rank of Corporal, subject to your passing the relevant examinations." He shifted slightly to Yomios and Miroka. "I've spoken with the doctor and he believes that the gravitational effects can be mitigated, however you will be required to undergo weekly medical examination. If the effects are deemed too harmful, you will be released from your contracts without penalty. But I think that the three of you would be excellent additions to the bridge. You don't have to decide immediately, but I would prefer an answer before we dock at Homeplate." Gryzzk shifted slightly. "You may all return to your previous activities. If you'll excuse me, I would like to put my daughter to bed."
The three nodded and left with slightly dazed scents as Gryzzk carried Nhoot and Rhipl'i to bed. As he came back out, Rosie was smirking.
"Freelord Major, Captain Noster would like a word."
Gryzzk grimaced a bit. "I was hoping to call him. Put him through."
Rosie chuffed softly. "I've got a recording of Larion running like his feet were on fire and his ass was catching. I think he's a 'yes' on that transfer." She then inclined her head slightly as the ponytailed and sharp-faced captain scowled on the holo.
"Sir, with all due respect - what the fuck, over?"
"Captain, you've read Larion's file?"
"Most of it, some of it was blacked out." Noster glanced around at his area to make sure nobody was obviously listening in. "He's one hell of a sensor-jockey, but something about him makes me think the parts I can't read are interesting. He keeps trying to take over squad meetups, and we've had to have him do a ton of pushups. Overall - he's good, but he's not that good."
"You're right. But that said, we're going on a hiring spree for some additional personnel. Pick Larion's replacement."
There was a sigh of sorts. "I'm not talking you out of this, am I?"
"I'm afraid not. But on the bright side, I might send him back to you in a month or two."
There was an exhalation. "I'm picking a good one."
"I would expect no less, Captain. Gryzzk out."
Rosie had a relaxed posture as she reported. "Good news - you have a call from Doc Cottle waiting. And don't be surprised if you get Noster's hire in 30 seconds after we hit the deck."
"We'll be home tomorrow, right?"
"According to Patrick, yes. Also, start every face to face conversation with him for the next month with 'show me your hands' - that little stunt we pulled did enough damage that we're gonna need three weeks in the repair bay."
"So he'll have it done in two and spend a week cursing."
"Cursing and writing up a thesis-length document about how they managed to pull it off. Then he'll ship it to the engineers in the 7th and after they've commented he'll sell it to Skunkworks for a bag. Doing the impossible pays well, Freelord Major - but try not to make a habit of it."
"Make sure you receive proper credit and also ensure the company receives a share, XO." Gryzzk paused. "Is the Doctor still waiting?"
"Yes. You have avoided him quite long enough."
"Well, put him through."
Cottle's face was one part amused, one part grumpy. "Major, you send the Monci's here directly or what?"
"I did not."
"Well, they came here and requested examinations and bloodwork and also requested it be done as quickly as possible as they have a decision to make before we slide into Homeplate. A decision you put them up to. Now while I can, I just want to make a recommendation."
Gryzzk's voice was dry. "Hire someone?"
"Several someone's. We're going to need at least one xenobiologist on the payroll. The only reason I haven't asked earlier is your physiology's close enough to Terran canines that I can get away with it. Now if you're planning on adding more spice to this soup, we're gonna need a few more brains."
"Please tell me you have a recommendation."
"Funny story but yes. My ex-wife."
"Tell me you're joking."
"My mother didn't raise no liar, Major."
"I presume the...split was amicable enough?"
"Oh yeah. Enough that she didn't bother going back to her maiden name. We're just different enough that it didn't make sense for us to be married anymore. I like going out in space, she likes staying on every planet that had a functioning atmosphere and staying for six months at a time. Or she did up until a couple years ago. Now she putters around our old duplex on Linnaeus Station, writes papers and sends me a card for my birthday so I don't forget it."
"Very well. Doctor, you have privilege of extending the job offer while I file this exchange under 'Terrans are odd'. Send her your contract, make it easy. Gryzzk out."
The next day was busy, as multiple items happened as soon as they left R-space. Firstly, the bridge was crowded with personnel - the newest bridge squad members were seated near their posts, learning the Legion way of doing things. There were occasionally objections, but overall it seemed to be going well enough. Secondly, there was a formation of sorts as the Legion ships emerged - they were escorted home by three ships from the 7th. This show of compassion turned out to be a blessing, as both ships engines stopped functioning completely shortly after they switched to the standard engines, necessitating a tow home. Rosie responded to this by generating a mobility chair for herself and making soft pouting noises.
Gryzzk busied himself in his office with the door open during the tow. Reading and filing all the reports that had come in occupied his time, along with submitting them and the attendant bonuses. He had an open channel to Engineering in case Chief Tucker needed anything. The background noise of the engineering department swearing at the damnfool Major who thought that physics was one of those polite suggestions that could be overcome by a stern look wasn't precisely soothing, but it did let Gryzzk know the ship was regaining its collective balance after a fashion.
Meanwhile, Hoban was pouting and offering up a week's pay to the engineering team if they could get the engines going again so that he could demonstrate docking procedures to Miroka. The collective response from Engineering was a string of profanity so loud and long that the entire bridge was blushing - except for O'Brien, who started taking notes about halfway through.
Once they docked, the families were there to greet the returning. In this, Gryzzk noticed something; the hugs lasted a little longer, touches and first inhalations of loved ones lingered, and the greetings were whispered "I love you's" more than shouted promises of a long night of unclothed exercise. Even Reilly's normal whirlwind was muted, as she carried Lomeia away from the main group and looked around furtively before she spoke lowly to Lomeia. All Gryzzk could hear of the conversation was Lomeia's reply of "I know" before the two walked as if tied together to their shared quarters.
Gryzzk and Nhoot were not immune to the emotions of the moment. As they both held their family and re-acquainted themselves, there was something different with respect to this reunion. Gryzzk took a deep sniff of Grezzk, the children, and finally Kiole and noticed something different, looking at Kiole questioningly. His answer was a tearfully joyous nod, as Nhoot leaned in to address Kiole's midsection.
"Hihi Little Brother or Little Sister or Little Twins or whoever's in there, we're going to show you sooo much."
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