Draconis System
Itrop leaned back in his private cabin, pleased at the events of the past weeks. Shameless flattery, bribery, and a few deaths had been necessary, but the Freelord Svitre's portion of the Throne's Fortune had finally come to heel.
The first real trouble had been convincing the commodores that smuggling was preferable to outright piracy. While smuggling was certainly less glamorous, it had a far lower chance of winding up Svitre'd. But there was still a group who demanded vigorous action. That was something he was going to have to deal with today.
"Look at the images. The stills. There was even a stream from the passenger. They are wealthy beyond imagining, and they will be in Hurdop space in one week, which gives us time to prepare. To intercept. To attack, to board, and take whatever riches are aboard that ship and then the ship itself. Freelord Svitre would demand no less of us."
Itrop leaned forward as he regarded at the two commodores. "Dolin. Smeitr. I respect your resolve in Svitre's name. The both of you are fine commanders. However in this moment remember what the Terran Foreign Legion is capable of. The Third Vilantian Warfleet. They were able to command others and defeat the Fourth and Seventh Warfleets. Even our mighty fleet suffered catastrophe at his hands. I would counsel that you remember who you're dealing with." He looked between the two. "What we must do to right the wrongs to all of us in this moment is be patient. Remember. If we attack them, their clan will remain vigilant. We must let them grow relaxed, comfortable. Allow them forget the clanwar they started. Then, and only then do we strike. This is a fine opportunity, but the time is not right for action."
Smeitr growled softly. "Spoken like one who has risked nothing to lose nothing."
"Commodore, the losses of Freeclan Svitre were not small. But when compared to the loss suffered by Vilantia at his hands, it is a fraction. A small fraction. If the two of you do this I wish you well, and I will pray for your success. But I cannot condone this action."
"What actions do you condone, then?"
"The actions as I have laid them out. We must gain allies, strength. Show Hurdop and Vilantia that the Legion weakens us as a people. If you pursue this, leave your holds empty of all that can be spared." Itrop leaned back in his chair. "If you are defeated, we will need the supplies and precious cargo that you carry. If you win - the space will be needed for the bounty of their ship. Good fortune to you, no matter what you decide."
The two left, their scent filled with confidence in themselves. Itrop glanced over at Bob, who had been silently listening to the conversation from his normal spot.
"You have thoughts?"
"They plan to take six ships. It will not be a fair fight. Currently I calculate the chance of any of the ships returning at three thousand seven hundred and twenty to one."
Itrop grimaced. "Thank you for keeping that calculation to yourself." He glanced at his tablets, pausing. "Hopefully their replacements will be wiser. Send a few other ships in their shadow with the necessary communications; we'll take advantage of their actions by sending others who are calmer and wish to live to see victory's dance."
___________
Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose
The ship was getting used to the new cadence brought about by the additional personnel. As he walked out to the bridge to begin his new day, the comm chair with Yomios sitting in it was a touch jarring.
"Major; as we are currently in R-space, we have no communications traffic. There are currently fifty-three communications from our...employers pending delivery once we exit R-space. Of those messages, I believe forty of them are worthy of review - certain parts of the display may reveal ship functions or capabilities that we wouldn't want people to know about."
"Understood Corporal. We'll review those after breakfast with the XO. Any specifics?"
Yomios' ears fluttered slightly - a sign that she was a touch uncertain how to proceed. "Well sir, several of them are marked as age-restricted, and for good reason - "
Rosie interrupted smoothly. "She's wanting to send four full frontal shots of Gabe coming out of the shower - you could grind meat on his abs and he's packing a chunk of driftwood in his pants - which is gonna be hell for him when skinny-jeans come back in style again. Then she got a few more from the rear. I think she's trying to use the socials to have her fans convince Reilly to marry the poor schmuck."
Gryzzk closed his upper and middle eyes. "Tell me there's more than just Terran nudes involved?"
Yomios nodded. "Well, yes. There are several images of the ship's interior that might give any attackers a layout of the ship."
There was a shrug. "Rosie, what are the odds someone's picked up the layout of our ship already?"
The reply was a soft chuff. "Jane's Fighting Ships published an update after the war. They've got a perfect exterior and decent guesstimates of the interior based on the fact that this was a cargo-hauler before it got a refit."
"I'd rather they not know more than is absolutely necessary."
"Certainly Freelord Major. On the up side, there are several posed shots with Lieutenant Gro'zel, including her reading her favorite bedtime story to Gabe." Rosie paused. "Respectfully, she may have weaponized her cuteness."
"That we'll let go. I believe it would be good publicity." Gryzzk gave a lopsided smile. "Anything else I should be aware of?"
"Yes, Chief Tucker and I will be taking breakfast in the Engineering space for the duration of this job. He's not fond of the Reillys and has elected to relocate his quarters to the engineering space temporarily."
"Advise the engineering squads that rank has privilege, and that they may not take after Chief Tucker. Also advise Chief Tucker that he is still expected to maintain standards of hygiene."
Rosie purred - as much as a holographically generated AI could. "I will make quite certain he showers, Freelord Major."
There was a raised finger from O'Brien's station. "Aht-aht-aht. First. Warning. There will be no horny on the bridge."
Rosie looked innocent...ish. "I'll be certain to advise Hoban and Miroka."
O'Brien grumbled under her breath. "Don't remind me."
Gryzzk couldn't help himself. "Sergeant Major, if your husband would like to join us as a consultant to the armory, the arrangements could be made."
There was a snort. "No way in hell that happens. Colm gets sick in R-space, the poor bastard. Go eat and make sure those three don't make a mess of our lovely ship."
There was a smile on Gryzzk's face as he headed for the mess hall. This morning was calmer, after a fashion. As he settled with his normal tray there was a bit of an oddity. Charles showed up by himself with what Gryzzk had learned was a "full English" breakfast, though some things seemed to have a Vilantian equivalent. He paused before seating himself and began taking tiny bites, sitting up perfectly straight - but his scent was filled with turmoil.
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It took a few minutes before Charles spoke. "Your daughter is lovely." His voice was smooth, gently toned - it was as if his vocal cords were an instrument unto themselves.
"Thank you." Gryzzk knew enough to be patient in times like these. Some of his old skills seemed to translate.
"You...are fortunate. When Chastity - er, I guess you know her as Jenassa - when she was that age." He paused as if the memory was painful. "We'd found out that the genetic mix wasn't what we'd asked for. It was...difficult. Six years of tutoring, lessons, and Jenassa wasn't going to be what we'd hoped."
Gryzzk took in this information with a sip of tea. "I know what you did, but I must ask why?"
Charles stared down at his breakfast for a long time before speaking. "Our band was called Chardelia. It was Neofolk. Delia played the electro-gurdy and sang lead while I played bass, was backup on the vocals and was basically the public relations guru - there was a piper and a percussionist as well. We were popular - amazingly so. Blisteringly famous for fifteen minutes; and then the musical fashion changed - we became a trivia question eight months after our height. We'd done well enough that we could easily afford the Centauri lifestyle, and then we found new jobs in Anchiano as scouts. We had an eye and an ear, but no audience for our songs. We'd gotten married, ostensibly for the press but...she was different then." Charles' gaze changed, no longer seeing the breakfast table but something entirely different but pleasant.
There was a sip of acrid coffee before he continued. "That was when we looked at our accounts and realized we could afford to have three genetically boosted children. Julliard René and Prospero Alan turned out almost exactly the way we wanted, but Jenassa." He paused, arranging his thoughts. "It hurt when we fell from the public eye. So much so that we stopped playing, even the nostalgia shows. It doesn't make up for what happened, but it explains it. I hope."
Gryzzk blinked in confusion. "I'm afraid it doesn't."
"We...we wanted our children to be safe. To not feel the pain that we felt - the band breakup was acrimonious because it was our dream gone to hell and none of us understood why. Delia and I didn't get divorced, but our relationship changed, and...usually I let her do the talking in a group setting. I mucked it up with the band publicity somehow. We were barely more than kids ourselves, but then we started looking at children and we." He paused, swallowing. "We wanted them to be flexible enough to survive the whims of the public. To do what we couldn't. Julliard's adapted to three revolutions in architecture, and Prospero's paintings are almost a harbinger of a new style - he stumbles sometimes, but never dramatically." Charles looked up to meet Gryzzk's eyes. "Have you ever looked at your children and wondered what they were going to be when they grow up?"
Gryzzk stopped for a moment. "To be frank...no. I suppose I should, though. On Vilantia, a position is generally hereditary. The eldest takes the position from their father or mother, and the younger siblings are given similar training and then they are traded to other clans as needed." He considered. "I had expected that the children would...follow in my footsteps as ship captains, now that lives of service are not exactly an option. That may have to change."
"So your father..."
"For thirty-three generations - about thirteen centuries, all told. The histories are incomplete, but I am told that the First Gryzzk might have been a noble of some sort." There was a shrug. "But that was then and it worked, after a fashion. But you have given me something to consider."
Charles looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Delia isn't a bad person. She's very strong and caring. In her own way, she's trying to convince Jenassa to come home to safety."
"If I may be frank, Charles." Gryzzk paused for a moment. "Lord A'ogers, one of our scholars of child-rearing wrote in the Fourteenth Generation that the magic of children is that they become adults, and one of the worst things we can do as parents is prevent that magic from becoming real. I feel like Delia may have attempted to raise an adult - and when that did not become as expected, she has attempted to keep Jenassa a child until she becomes what was expected. Was that how your sons were raised?"
Charles blinked. Blinked again. Then a weak smile crept across his face. "Where were you fifteen years ago when we needed to hear this?"
"Learning how to properly serve and manage what was to become my Lord's household." There was a gesture. "Certainly nothing so grand or glamorous as this but I suppose this is a form of service."
Charles stood. "I think...perhaps I need to shock her into realizing that our daughter is an adult. Though I'm not sure I've been able to talk to her for years." He paused. "Would it be possible for me to visit the bridge after Cha-Jenassa is on duty? I believe I have something she might like. Or throw at me."
"I'll have to ask during the changeover tonight. Until then."
The rest of the day was more or less routine, shockingly. Between Yomios, Rosie, and Gryzzk about half of the social posts were rejected outright, others were blurred appropriately, and over Gryzzk's objection the risque shots of Gabe were allowed. Gro'zel presented herself for uniform inspection at precisely midday, and then took off for her duties of making sure everyone was cared for. The reports from the ship were few; it seemed as though the elder Reillys had spent the day in their cabin and had chosen to not mingle with or agitate the crew. Reilly was perplexed as she came in with the evening squad.
"Major. Sir. Freelord. Why the hell is Charles quoting Vilantian Lords now?" Reilly reached up to tap the controls to move the station to her configuration.
"We spoke this morning over breakfast."
"Annnnd now Delia's acting like it's my fault." She hmph'ed. "Like I have some mystic powers when I'm sleeping."
There was a soft smile from Gryzzk. "I will ask Lomeia on our return if you have any mystic sleeping powers."
O'Brien turned sharply to the command chair. "No incitement to horny on the bridge, either. Fuzzy jumped-up mad bastard..." the Sergeant Major left the bridge trailing a stream of muttered oaths.
The changeover was overall smooth, and about five minutes had passed before the bridge door opened and Gro'zel led Charles onto the bridge. Charles was carrying a case of some sort and smelled like...anger and passion. It was highly unexpected, and made Gryzzk more than a little curious.
Reilly promptly glared at Gryzzk. "The hell." There was a pause. "Sir."
"It was requested, Sergeant. It may be beneficial for you to be patient."
Reilly glanced between Gro'zel and Gryzzk, her hands laced tightly in her lap. "One minute."
Charles swallowed before placing the case next to Reilly's station. "This. Before you were born, we did other things. Your mother played this, but stopped after certain things happened. We never taught you about music because we were afraid you would find out about our history. Things we couldn't easily explain beyond 'We were young and stupid'. But maybe...maybe you should know. There's a tab that you might want to watch." He paused for a moment, his voice becoming hesitant. "Delia may never admit it, but. We made mistakes. We...wanted you to be safe and happy. That was the idea."
Reilly was cautious as she touched the case gingerly, like it was going to cause her physical pain if she touched it for too long. "This doesn't make up for anything."
"It doesn't. But...maybe it'll explain some things."
"Maybe. Minute's up. I'll be at breakfast tomorrow."
Charles left the bridge, and Gro'zel clambered up to Reilly's lap, not saying anything.
Finally Reilly looked at Gro'zel. "I still think your papa has a better family than mine."
Gro'zel glanced around for a moment before speaking as if she were revealing a secret. "Your mama likes Mama's jelly cookies."
"She does not. I have never seen Delia eat any candy. Ever." Reilly looked surprised and a little suspicious.
There was a serious nod. "She says they're art in food form."
Reilly seemed to deflate slightly, before glancing around. "Okay. Maybe I don't know as much about 'em as I thought. Doesn't mean I suddenly like 'em."
Gro'zel turned to give Reilly a hug. "You smell like Big Feelings. I'll come back in an hour or two." The she walked off the bridge to her next destination."
Reilly looked at the case, and then the data tab before glancing at the rest of the bridge. "Anyone object to tonight's movie being 'What The Fuck Were Two Of Reilly's Genetic Donors Doing Before They Decided To Bang And Then Have Three Canned Kids?' No? Good."
Gryzzk kept a hand on the command chair for a moment before going to his quarters, glancing at Rosie. His XO was overly calm as she glided over and whispered to him.
"I will advise if you are needed." There was a pause. "I know you plan to sleep in your uniform."
Gryzzk shook his head a little, re-focusing to read more about plants and determine what sort of light and conditions would be needed. Eventually he did go to sleep, dreams of growth in his head.
When he woke the next morning, there was a small data tab compliments of Rosie. It was marked "You get to watch this once." He slid the data-tab into his tablet and pressed play.
It was Reilly, sitting in Gro'zel's quarters with the electro-gurdy - she seemed to be familiar with the instrument basics, but her voice was soft and gentle as she played and sang a lullaby to Gryzzk's sleeping daughter.
The strangest thing was that Reilly was singing in Vilantian. Horribly accented, and some of the tones were off, but she was understandable. It was a little odd to hear, and as soon as it finished Rosie's voice came in.
"I know it was nice, but Reilly specifically asked that it be a one and done. We'll be in the Vilantian system this time tomorrow; and I believe that Reilly's mother has concerns about your child-rearing."
Gryzzk exhaled softly. "Pull the threat assessment for Vilantia. Do we know of anything else that's going on?"
"Beyond a joint commission of the Vilantia and Hurdop Ministries of Science making waves? The Ministry of Culture is trying very hard to slow-walk your statue."
"In this, I concur with the Ministry."
"I'm sure you do. But they've already informally renamed the place 'Freelord Park' because of your visit there with Nhoot. In any case, there's far fewer social posts to monitor, but Delia has placed a highly urgent request with me to speak with you."
The exhalation became a groan. "Do I want to know?"
"She has suggestions regarding education."
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