Vilantia Prime - In the time of the Fifth Generation

Generations had passed since the Shamed Clans had accepted exile as an alternative to extinction, and since then the land had rebuilt - farms produced all the food Vilantia needed. The stories of old were beginning to pass to legend. The Ministries were beginning to locate things that were required for building, but industry was lagging far behind the agricultural bounty that was harvested every season.

But now Vilantia was at war. It started simply enough, with the re-discovery of the necessary technologies that allowed Vilantia to explore not just the planets as they had since the Great Civilization, but also the stars. With this, the Throne resolved that it was time to make the planet ready. It was time to harry the Shamed and erase their memory from the stars completely.

What had arrived soon after were representatives of a group calling itself the Collective; species unlike anything from the soil of Vilantia. They were able to speak the language, but not properly. After general pleasantries had been exchanged, the Collective became less pleasant.

The demand for the Vilantian populace to kneel was unacceptable on the face of it. This was their world, soaked in their blood. For these aliens to arrive and demand tribute for the simple fact that they asked and they had weapons was preposterous. The Minister of War had delivered the reply of the Throne personally, sending his clan-weapon through the throat of the Collective messenger. If the Collective wanted Vilantia, the Collective would have to bleed for it.

There was blood aplenty soon. Collective ships arrived from the stars and disgorged strange creatures with six limbs, innumerable eyes, and a large form that suggested they had been bred for the sole purpose of killing. What snippets were heard suggested their name was Helots, a name taken from some Collective world somewhere - in any event, what they were called was second to what they could do.

What they could do was kill in numbers that beggared belief. The initial fighting in the streets and cities was a haphazard affair, and after securing the cities and putting the Vilantians there to work, the Helots spread to the rural areas. Now they were reaving through the fields where Vilantia grew bread and raised meat for the benefit of all.

To Gryzzk's mind, this was criminal. On the horizon he could see a smudge marring the distant dawn. The smudge itself wasn't significant, but what it meant was that the farm he and his forefathers had tended with their lord and his forefathers was being put to the torch. And that meant the Helots would be in the foothills soon.

They'd sheltered there since the first orbital strikes laid waste to the outlying areas, building a small encampment and moving the shifted dirt far away to conceal their presence. They knew that their efforts would only delay, and so they would have to make the choice of move further into the hills or stand and most likely die. Gryzzk took a knee in the dirt with his clanmates as they softly recited the morning prayer as they had daily ever since the war had begun months ago.

"If this is the day that ends before all others, let me face twilight with courage. Let the ancestors know my scent and take the wisdom of my life to their care. Let me wait for those of the clan who will come after that I may guide them and tell the clan of our shared stories. May my sword be ready and my guns fire true. May those I save remember me, and may their children speak of me well. May those I kill greet me as their brother when I take their scent again, and may I honor my vanquishers for their strength when we meet again. May our clan never fall or be forgotten."

Gryzzk stood, his marred armor feeling familiar as the weapons in his hand as he picked them up. It rankled on a level - he'd spent more time with a sword and pistol in his arms than his wife of late. The few nights they had together were desperate affairs, and both knew that there had been mornings where they'd awakened to the breath of another. It wasn't spoken of, but the truth of the times was that war led everyone to find comfort in the nearest available arms.

A soft voice spoke lowly next to him. "Lead Servant Gryzzk. I know you plan something with the twilight. Your scent is one with the ancestors."

"I do, Lady A'kefab." Gryzzk motioned toward the map he'd drawn in the dirt. "They'll send six up this pass because it is the easiest route by foot. If I am well hidden in the trees, they won't see me. These enemies do not look up. Make sure that the evacuation is done before twilight."

"Are you so desperate to join my husband in the afterlife? We need you. Your strength."

"Our clan is my strength, Lady. Without them, there is nothing to be strong for. I'm trading for time, don't waste it looking for me after today. Keep the clan strong, and when peace is brokered return to the clan-hold, sweep the ash away and grow anew."

"Would it change your mind to know your son wishes to take the scent of his father?" There was a soft pleading in the noblewoman's scent that cut keenly through the dirt and stray moss in her fur.

"My son will learn patience under your guidance, as the sons of A'kifab will learn."

The pair stood and tended their tasks striking the camp as they watched a vehicle moving toward their camp and a group of Helots dismounting to begin foot patrols up. Finally the remains of the clan gathered to listen to their Lead Servant as he laid his sword and guns on the ground, keeping only a pair of knives for himself. A trembling voice finally spoke as one of the adolescents moved forward to show his face in the firelight.

"Gryzzk. Why?"

The reply was eerie in its calm. "Because the clan must be kept safe. Lady A'Kefab will lead you up above the treeline - other clans gather in the snow to the west. That is your destination. The Helots can't operate as well in the cold, and that will be their downfall. Hold until winter and then let our enemies know that to war with Vilantians is to war with Vilantia."

There was a nod in reply. "We will do so in your name, Gryzzk."

Gryzzk bundled the weapons and handed them to the youth. "Do so in the name of Lord A'kifab. Take up the name Gryzzk if you must, but remember that name is one of service, not leadership."

As the clan made their escape, Lady A'Kefab held so she could watch through powerful binoculars as Gryzzk fell from a tree in a blur of knife-work. The six opponents were hemmed in and three fell, with the other three being forced to a limping retreat back down the hill. When she shifted her view again to see the original ambush site again, there was no movement save for the wind through the trees.

Her free hand touched her stomach for a bare moment before she shouldered her pack and led her clan to a safer place.

___________

Paris, Versailles Palace, Hall of Mirrors

Gryzzk slowly lifted his hands, keeping one eyepair on the leader as the others roamed. "What would my captor have me do?"

"You have communication with your ship?" The crowd had settled from the initial shock as a group began moving and began roughly taking jewelry at gunpoint. Gryzzk's captor moved his eyes around, the pistol following erratically.

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "You see how we're not resisting your comrades? Nobody here wants to be shot; particularly by a shot fired from a nervous hand. Since I'm the hostage in this situation, you should point the gun at me." Gryzzk paused for a moment, waiting for the pistol to settle. "C'mon, point the gun at me!"

Finally the barrel moved to a spot directly at Gryzzk's belly. "Answer the question, pet."

"As it happens, I can communicate with my ship."

The leader jumped down from the table and handed Gryzzk a scribbled parchment with his free hand. "Read this statement."

Gryzzk scanned the thin slice of paper and frowned. "No."

There was a held breath before the leader snarled. "Why not?"

Gryzzk had to stall, so he chose to take a page from Rosie's book - after a fashion. "First, because I can barely read it. Is penmanship unknown in clan...Aa'Plionzh? Aa'Plonish? Who is this clan? I should very much like a proper statement of demands, that way there is no doubt as to your intent and desire. Secondly, this writing is simply shameful. 'Leave us alone don't follow us because we are going to be going to Draconis' - this, this beggars belief. Were I a suspicious individual I would say you are Hurdop pretending to be Vilantian."

"We are the Vilantian Clan Aa'Plians! When you go to your ancestors, tell them you await the arrival of Triloe!"

Gryzzk sighed softly as they took the bait. "A warrior is measured by the strength of his enemies. I don't even know if I can truly count this among my battle-glory. I certainly won't tell my ancestors of this evening. Being defeated by Clan Aa'Pliash ."

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Triloe tried re-directing back to the subject. "That's not what the note says and you know it!" The grip on the pistol facing him shivered in agitation.

"I most certainly do not. But I will do my best to ah, interpret this note." Gryzzk cleared his throat. "XO, kindly connect and advise the local medias of the following statement: 'We are Clan Aa'...Plionzhe - or Pleeange'." Gryzzk paused. "As an aside I've been advised that it's Clan Aa'Plians, but I have only the word of the one with a gun pointed at me."

Gryzzk looked down at the parchment again, reading slowly and sounding the words out. "We are re...reeetrieving. The honor of the clan stolen by the Tire-irons. We will not harm anyone we don't kill. We're taking the jewels and hostages reading this. In exchange for the hostages we decry the re-ease of Minister Aa'Tebul from his current prison. We defang." Gryzzk paused to look up before continuing dryly. "We defang the re-ease of Greatlord Aa'Lafione and the rasberration of his honor. Leave us alone, don't follow us because we are going to Draconis." Gryzzk looked over at his captor. "Wouldn't it help if you also asked for the release of Minister Aa'Benie? If you were in fact serious."

There was a frustrated nod. "Fine, her as well."

Gryzzk spread his hands agreeably. "XO, though they didn't write it down they also demand the release of Minister Aa'Benie. They appear to be serious."

Rosie's voice came back. "Are you sure you want that broadcast? 'Cause that was less a statement of demands and more an indictment of the Vilantian educational system."

"Education is an uneven thing, XO. They didn't mention how they're leaving, so they're either stealing transport or it's been prearranged. There is an open area directly west of us, but they'll probably disregard it as too obvious and go through the north passages."

Rosie's voice came through clearly. "Oh Freelord, west would the worst thing they could do. We got the shuttles doing Grizzly Drops and whoever comes out those doors better have their beneficiaries listed. The troops are mad because they couldn't get refunds for the beer they couldn't drink on account the recall, and since they can't very well take it out on you, they'll take it out on these healthy scratches from the last place team in the NOSHO. They could go north if they like bad ideas. Too many doors and Triloe's former friends just linked up with Kiole and Gro'zel to strongpoint at the Salon of Hercules and pretty much wax 'em if they go that way. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Corporal's lookin' to kill some folk for ruining her night with you. East would be betterish, there's only that bigass crowd of Terrans that way - pretty sure at least one of those titfuckers wants to play hero and get their fifteen minutes of fame and merch."

There was a soft smile creasing Triloe's face as the gun motioned southward. "There was a direction unmentioned. Perhaps you are not as clever as you think." There was a whistle before he called out to the rest of the group. "Time - everyone take a hostage, we move now!"

Gryzzk was roughly grabbed and marched south toward the food service area along with several others. He was pleased to see that Reilly was among the hostages, and the fact that her parents were not among the hostages. Someone else had made a tactical error that was probably going to be made evident shortly as both Diamond and Yomios were taken. Diamond was giving a running commentary on the events as rapidly as he could.

"March." Triole shoved Gryzzk roughly past a laden tray. Gryzzk moved forward a few steps before grabbing a small platter of finger food and taking a bite of something that was quite savory.

"March, Servant."

Gryzzk glanced back. "I'd rather not go to the gods on an empty stomach if I can help it, and the gods do not favor a poor host. Bland Terran food is better than no food, wouldn't you agree?"

There was a soft harrumph of sorts. "No."

Gryzzk's mind began working and hoping. The first problem was he only knew a general layout, but presumably if Rosie was guiding them south there was an ambush being set. The second problem was that he had three of his against thirty - in addition, the security team would probably want to avenge their honor and do something other than stand around and look menacing. The variables were concerning.

The next issue was the area itself. As they walked into an area naming itself the Hall of Battles, Gryzzk felt a low sense of anticipation. Were he of an artistic mind, Gryzzk would have more to say about the hall. As it was, it simply registered as huge, bright, and probably full of very expensive things. He didn't know art, but he knew that this was probably considered art - so if this was the spot, it was going to be very touchy. He took the nose-plugs out of his nostrils and took a deep breath, beginning to stall again. If his company had set a trap, this would be the place.

"Much better, wouldn't you say?" Gryzzk moved slightly, turning to address his captor. "As fine as the Terrans are, their love of artificial scent is concerning on a level. Their intentions are hidden, but it seems their actions are true."

"You place too much faith in them. Watch and we will show you strength unlike any you've ever seen."

Gryzzk counted himself fortunate to witness a projectile splattering a brilliant pink right where Triole's nose met his forehead. Triole was still standing, but his eyes unfocused as if he were asleep on his feet. Immediately the soundtrack of the night shifted to Screaming Diamond and the Wailing We're-Gonna-Die Quartet, which meant that Gryzzk was officially deaf. The good news with that was that his captors were similarly handicapped.

Gryzzk ensured that Triole was definitely down by launching up and throwing a hard elbow into the chin of the leader before he took a knee and fired the pistol he'd been given several times at exceptionally close range. The energy pulses landed true, but had minimal effect on his targets save to fluff out their fur dramatically. In response, the targets began firing back wildly before they began retching and firing blindly, hitting hostages and each other in their panic. Gryzzk flinched to take a shot on his off shoulder and didn't feel anything.

At least not immediately. There was a slight tingle after a breath before a wave of nausea lurched through his body. From behind was a clatter of boots and combat armor as one of the company security squads arrived to augment their numbers. O'Brien arrived in the lead, carrying a small bundle. In the chaos the Vilantian hostage-takers who could still run were on their feet and moving with the speed of the wicked, running right into the line of fire from both ahead of them and behind.

"Gotta say sir, your talent for getting your ass in trouble is nearly miraculous. Laroy was tickled that he got to shoot some folks again. Less tickled that it was nonlethal, but he can't exactly be choosy." The Sergeant Major took a knee to cover Gryzzk and fired twice. "Good news is, all we had to do was follow the screaming."

Gryzzk slapped his armor on in record time. "What about Kiole and Gro'zel?"

Kiole sounded a bit embarrassed. "I was caught by surprise by their numbers and I may have broken a few hands and a jaw before they were able to convince me of their intentions. I dislike these nose filters."

In the background he heard Gro'zel, who had apparently forgotten that she had a communicator. "We made new friends! They wanna know if they can come to New Casablanca?"

"Not exactly my decision. But if they are free to do so, then they are free to do so." Gryzzk looked up from shrugging into his armor to see the group of Vilantians running back and forth and finding cover wherever they could behind niches and small pillars that held various Terran busts on them. He didn't even want to begin trying to calculate the potential damages.

O'Brien grunted. "Fine to be thinking of later, but now's still a problem."

"Quite." Gryzzk looked back to the group of hostages who were mostly silent, except for Diamond who made up for it. "Would someone kindly find a way to keep him quiet for five minutes!?"

Yomios took a knee in order to cover Diamond's mouth before she whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it worked and Diamond was amazingly silent for the first time the entire evening.

Gryzzk did not want to know how that particular wine had been made. "Thank you, Corporal." He then raised his voice to attempt to put a damper on the fire. "Clan Aa'Plians? Your leader's been shot in the head by our negotiator. Would anyone else care to negotiate on the clan's behalf? I'll speak frankly - I pulled my entire company from R&R to be here. They left fine drink and pleasant company behind at my command. They're not happy about the situation, and I'm quite certain if given the opportunity they would express their unhappiness to you fully. But if you stand up with your hands high and empty and wait for the Terran security, I'll be able to say honestly that it's outside of my hands."

There was a quiet reply. "What if we don't?"

Gryzzk lowered his voice. "Corporal Laroy - target and fire at your discretion."

A breath later there was a quiet report and a bark of pain. "My foot! Twilight-bastard shot my foot!" There was a moment and low whimper as the foot was tested. "I think it's broken."

Gryzzk raised his voice again. "I hope that's sufficient answer. I've seen the Terran on the other end of that shot complain after shooting a Hurdop in the middle left eye from six kilometers away because he was aiming for the upper left eye. You're far closer than that - make the right choice, but make it fast. The rest of my company is anxious to vent their displeasure, and I'll be frank I can only hold them back for so long. If you are considering exchanging the living hostages for the artworks you're hiding behind, I believe the Terran policy is 'you break it, you bought it.' You'll be paying for these pieces for a very long time, I should think."

Slowly a pair of hands raised, followed by another. It didn't take long for the surrender to be complete as Terran security arrived with actual stun batons, looking quite official as they took the thieves into custody and made sure the hostages were safe and clean.

"Typical. We do the heavy lifting, and the constables take the credit." O'Brien's face was sour as she spoke.

"Be at ease, Sergeant Major. We're sending Skunkworks an invoice for tonight."

"Don't forget to add thirty percent for the scramble." O'Brien took a breath. "And thanks. Da' was about to call Rosie and give you some stick for pollutin' me into becoming Hollywood. If you can squeeze some time, find your way to Athlone and set your feet inside Sean's Bar."

"I presume you'll be there?"

"Aye. It's been a minute since I've shifted pints with my family. And if we're all clear here..."

"I believe we are." Gryzzk raised his voice slightly. "XO, status?"

"We're getting paid. Larion's hunch was right. The local fuzz made more than a few arrests tonight, and a lot of expensive stuff that was gonna be lost in space is still snug in the vault."

"Make sure Larion gets an additional bonus for his actions. Stand the company down and return them to R&R status." Gryzzk glanced at Reilly. "Go check on your parents, please?"

As Gryzzk made his way back with the group, he quickly divested himself of his combat armor and put his proper hat back on. He was barely back in the Hall of Mirrors before he found a small figure sitting on his foot and a wife with an arm wrapped around him.

Gro'zel looked up from her perch on Gryzzk's foot. "Papa, this place is strange. I wanna go to the Mongolia place tomorrow please?"

"Of course. I think we have done our duty for this evening." Gryzzk nodded in agreement. Perhaps some horses and fresh air would do him good.

Kiole leaned into him, her arms keeping him close. "Tomorrow belongs to Gro'zel, and I will not gainsay our daughter. But I claim the rest of this night as mine." The nose-plugs did little to disguise the smoldering passion in her scent.

Gryzzk nuzzled Kiole softly. "As you wish."

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