Draconis System, Cargo Vessel Divine Breeze

Itrop settled into his command chair, taking everything in. The refit had gone well, the cargo had been received. His crew was ready. Certainly it was awkward to have to speak to the now-renegade Commodore A'Mungd who knew his fur and scent. The old commodore sat with a hand resting on his sidearm as he stood, glaring at both Itrop and Bob.

"So. The Draconis Freespeakers said that there was a trail to the ways of old. They failed to mention your existence. Give me a reason to not escort you to the gods this instant." The graying warrior drummed his fingers against the holster of his pistol, almost daring the former Minister to say the wrong thing.

Itrop took the threat in, responding calmly. "You have every right to do so, Commodore. But it would be a pity to have come so far to seek wisdom and find it with your last moments." There was a casual hand-motion toward Bob. "He does what I tell him to do. He's been told to protect my life before his own, and avenge me if I fall. With respect to your long and glorious career, you could kill me. But your success in that endeavor would mean that I stand before the gods a fraction of a second before you. So let's turn instead to the reality. You've made yourself outlaw. Hunted. Forsaken, for making a decision to turn from a road that bears ill scent. Just like me."

Itrop shifted slightly, his own hand coiling around his pistol subtly as he continued. "The difference is one of degree, Commodore. But in that act you will have made the second real decision you've ever made. Applause. But ask yourself questions before your pistol moves. Is it worth it to abandon your captains and crews to journey to the gods on a whim? A whim that you know you will not survive? Your crews have faith in you. Your leadership. You've seen what's happening. Noble Vilantia, being pillaged by Terrans and their lapdogs. Brought low by some mad commoner who thinks he can dictate our fate. We are nobles, A'Mungd. We dictate fates, not someone who takes a Hurdop title for his own. It brings me no joy to be outside the warmth of Mother Vilantia. But until we can turn her face to us with the might of right, we must suffer the cold."

There was a slight shift of scent, from anger to an unfocused distaste as A'Mungd accepted the reality. "Very well. Your crew speaks of Antares. What lies there?"

"Opportunity. The land fights itself. We're working with others to make a claim for stewardship over the system; our ships will be delivering the means of war to both of the primary factions, and letting the factions make use of them. Once they're weakened, the system will take the peace that we broker for them. We then use it as our base to bring resources to our cousins on both Hurdop and Vilantia who see the Terran influences for what they are." Itrop leaned casually in his chair. "Now, to more important matters. Where is Molige, I haven't taken the scent of your son in ages."

There was an exhalation and a furtive glance around the bridge. "I caught him applying a depilatory, removing his fur because he wanted to look more like the Terran pilot from the Purple Ones." A'Mungd spat dryly at even mentioning the Terran Foreign Legion by proxy.

Itrop managed a sympathetic headshake. "It is shameful to see our children fall to rot. But that is exactly what we must fight against. Make no mistake, we are at war. A war for the soul of Vilantia. Our friends here are strange, but we move with a singular purpose; right thinking as we were taught by our fathers - it may not happen in our lives, Commodore. There will be a place for Molige, when he sets aside the childish antics and worship of those who will demand ever more in return for ever less."

The former Minister stood, moving back and forth a bit as his voice raised so that those outside the bridge could hear him. "There must be clear minds and hearts with this, and hard days are ahead. But we will raise generations to return and show those who are too weak to stand what it means to walk free of the choices they should not make."

Commodore A'Mungd lifted his sidearm from its holster with thumb and forefinger, using his off hand to set the plasma safety to cold before reseating it in its holster. "Then we walk together."

___________

Terra Prime, Mongolia Falconry and Archery Club

Gryzzk favored his daughter with a smile as they rode back to the camp with the setting sun on their sides. Somehow she'd managed to convince the falconers that she was responsible enough to carry one of the younger falcons on her gloved hand. It was rather amusing to see her cooing and softly talking to the bird as if it were one of her playmates at Homeplate while White Tummy flowed across the terrain as if the three of them were a single thing. Gryzzk moved his horse forward to catch up to Morinerdene with a soft tick-tick noise that he'd learned from hearing the Terrans with their horses.

The Terran was unsurprised by Gryzzk's arrival by his side. "You wish to know what lies ahead for your daughter."

"Well, she seems to be quite taken by Terran animals."

"It's possible that she may have found her calling in life. She respects the land and the animals. Not many do. Even those who come here regularly only do so to see something different for a brief time. Then it's back to their regular lives with cities and traffic and seventy-nine thousand channels on the holo with nothing worth seeing." There was a casual dismissive gesture.

"Is that why you do this?"

"To a degree. It pays well enough to fund the things that I like to see. My children are studying to go to university. If they're anything like me, they'll graduate, find employment, and stick with it for a few years before they hear the cry of the mountains and come home to put their knowledge to use. Like I did."

"You have a degree?" Gryzzk couldn't hide his surprise.

"Organic chemistry. My doctoral thesis was on how the Tunguska Meteor altered the arable croplands due to the trace mineral content."

Gryzzk's mind reeled, and his voice was soft as he spoke. "This...I. Forgive me, but Kiole's homeworld could benefit from such knowledge. To have it and, do this?" He gestured with his hand, hesitating to form words. "This is. This is a fine thing, but." Gryzzk paused again. "I apologize, I spoke ill. Forgive my surprise."

Morinerdene chuckled as he shook his head. "There is nothing to forgive. I still write, and I'm used to folks being surprised when I show up at a conference to listen to some chucklehead completely misinterpret my studies, and then ask me if I've read Doctor Galbadrakh Morinerdene's paper fully." There was a slight smile. "Their faces when I tell them I am Doctor Galbadrakh Morinerdene is always something to see. Plus, " there was a grand sweeping gesture at the steppes and distant mountains, "I could work seventy lifetimes and never have a laboratory with a view so grand as this."

"Still. For my planet, and Hurdop...we don't change careers by choice. I was a servant until events conspired such that I could no longer serve my Lord. Kiole was a sailor on a warship until she lost her arm, and then she became a laborer and clanmother to orphans. Now that she has a good Terran replacement hand, her heart sings a warrior's song once more."

"So what do you see your daughter becoming?"

Gryzzk glanced back. "For years, I saw her following in her mother's footsteps to become a caretaker of a household and raising a fine family. That future seems...less certain now."

There was apology in Morinerdene's scent. "So Kiole is not her biological mother. I'm...sorry if speaking of this has brought a sad memory."

Now it was Gryzzk's turn to be confused. "Oh, not at all. Kiole is our secondwife. The three of us are content in our union." There was a slight spreading of hands. "It is traditional in times of low population to share wives and husbands. Though normally we don't have cross-planet marriages. But to your question...she may have a career with animals. She is quite fond of the ship's cat."

"Perhaps a bird would not go amiss - do you think she is responsible enough?"

"She may be. She has a great care for the crew, and takes her duties very seriously."

Morinerdene looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can you tell me anything about my horse?"

Gryzzk paused, bringing his mount to a gradual stop, dismounting and carefully approached the horse, keeping only his middle eyes open in order to focus as he inhaled deeply, sniffing at various parts of the animal cautiously before saying anything.

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"It seems content, but there is something wrong with the left front-foot. There is a scent of...something different, not right."

Morinerdene dismounted and moved to examine the indicated foot, finally picking a stone out that had wedged into an awkward spot. Gryzzk was again regarded with a measured consideration.

"Do you think your skills are common?"

There was a shrug. "Our species has a keen sense of smell relative to the Terrans. It's quite possible we could excel at animal husbandry simply because we can smell things."

Morinerdene nodded as they both remounted their horses and continued to the camp in silence, allowing Gryzzk to take in the scents of flora and fauna in the area and catch a breath of not quite home, but a place that deserved to be called home by more than those who already did.

Once at the camp, there was something of a separation, as Gro'zel gave White Tummy a rubdown before she led him to his pen and sent him back to play and make new friends with a slap on the shoulder. After that she all but danced over to Gryzzk and Kiole.

"Mama, Papa! I like White Tummy. I like horses can I grow up and come back here and help?"

Gryzzk favored Gro'zel with a gentle smile. "Well, that's certainly something you could do. But it would take a lot of work and learning big words for horses to care for them." The three walked toward the largest tent in the area which smelled like a meal hall of sorts.

Gro'zel nodded seriously. "I'll ask Rosie for a list of adult words."

There was immediate alarm from both Gryzzk and Kiole as they both contemplated how Rosie would interpret the request. "Perhaps you should ask her for a list of big words instead."

There was a nod. "Okay!"

They parted the heavy leather flap, and inside the tent was an explosion of warmth and scent - meats that Gryzzk wasn't certain of, spices that made his mouth water as he realized his last meal had been a hasty breakfast, and...other Vilantians. He looked around the tent to see that Kiole's squad had decided to show up en masse for some reason.

Kiole snickered softly as she nuzzled Gryzzk gently. "The armory has come to find their lost soul." She then departed to tell her squadmates about the events of the day, moving her hands here and there as she described Gro'zel's journey. Gro'zel stayed close to her father as she took in everything; the meats being roasted, pots bubbling, and many small clay containers with various drinks inside.

Nergüi approached slowly through the tent flap, carrying a small wicker sphere as he knelt down. "Young Gro'zel, I have something for you. It is not a gift, it a responsibility. It is a life that I place in your trust. It is small, and may never grow large enough to be a proper hunter. But I think perhaps it would know happiness in your care."

Gro'zel looked up to her father immediately, pleading with her eyes before saying a single word. "Papa? Can I?"

Gryzzk smiled a bit. "It is a responsibility as he says. Not mine, nor anyone else's in the house. It would be in addition to your regular duties."

There was a serious look on Gro'zel's face. "I can do it, Papa."

Nergüi carefully unlatched the cage, opening it to place the small bird in Gro'zel's quivering hands. "This is a Merlin Falcon. Ancient legend speaks of a noble woman who spurned a powerful but wicked man who wanted to be her lover in favor of a noble warrior, and so the powerful man cursed them both to be always together and always apart. The man walked the night as a wolf while she walked as a human, and when the sun shone he and his horse rode with the woman as she flew through the skies as a falcon. They could only see each other's true forms for the barest of moments each day as the sun crossed the horizon."

Gro'zel's eyes widened at the story. "But what happened to them!?"

"Well, as chance happened a sage told them the curse could be broken if they stood before the one who cursed them as people, and that such a thing could happen only during a night without a day, and a day without a night. As it so happened, there was a rare event happening soon, where the moon of Terra would cover the sun and cause such a thing. The two appeared before the wicked man, and in rage the wicked man tried to kill the woman only to be struck down by the warrior. And ever after it was that they honored the lovers by calling these birds Lady Hawks. This is your charge, now. What will you name it?"

Gro'zel frowned thoughtfully before giving a single nod. "Millennium."

"Millennium?"

"Uh-huh. I need to know big words to help animals, and maybe a big name will help it grow bigger than it's s'posed to." Gro'zel was gentle as she moved the bird to perch on the nape of her shoulder.

Dinner was a mix of a Hurdop-style buffet and the ship mess hall; everyone seemed to stay with the ones they were familiar with, conversing amongst themselves with more than a few videos being taken. The fare was hearty and not as flat as Gryzzk had feared, along with a milk drink that had a light tinge of alcohol to it.

Gro'zel was a special object of attention, with a multitude of stills being taken with both the permanent stewards of the land as well as the other visitors until Gryzzk softly reminded them that his daughter needed to eat as well.

Once the meal had completed, dishes were whisked away and the visitors were treated to songs and dances that were native to the land. Gryzzk felt obligated to repay the songs with songs from Vilantia, Hurdop, and the entire offworld contingent regaled the tent with songs of the 7th Cavalry that they'd picked up. Finally there was a group still taken with the Vilantians and Hurdop arrayed in front of the Terrans who all seemed to be having a grand time.

A tent had been erected for the offworlders during dinner, and Gryzzk silently complimented whoever had managed to sort the logistics of that particular feat. By silent agreement, Gryzzk was in the middle of the squadpile that formed almost instinctively.

Morning came with bitter cold and urgent desire to cleanse; afterward there was a final round of goodbyes as the shuttle departed to dock with the ship. Once back aboard, Gro'zel hurried to her quarters to make a nest for Millennium while the adults slowly worked their joints to function.

As they passed through the bridge to their quarters, they saw most of the bridge squad at one task or another, preparing the ship for departure. Rosie was overseeing everything with a mild smirk on her face.

"We'll be ready to tell this place to fuck off here in a minute. We're scheduled to bail in the morning, we got our nice haul here. Delia's been asking about Gro'zel whenever she can, and she's been hanging out with with the enlisted folks as much as possible."

"Analysis, XO?"

"It's a good thing you're pretty. There's ads coming out now for Hurdop and Vilantians as therapy aids - basically their entire job is to be fluffy, use their noses and let the therapists know what they smell."

"Therapy?"

"Respectfully Freelord, have you not noticed how when Delia's having a legit moment and not one of her planned snits, she's hanging onto Gro'zel or petting your arm? Hell look at Reilly. She stressballs and runs right to her favorite squish-toy Lomeia." Rosie shook her head. "That's the sorta natural talent that your people can monetize and get their asses out of whatever mental hole you've collectively dug."

"Lovely words, XO. Who shall we tell them to in order to accelerate the process?"

"Well, we got a pile of fanfic writers who might want to explore the deeper parts of life. We've also got a couple passengers with a couple hundred million followers on the various social platforms. Maybe ask them for a solid of extolling your planetary virtues of fluff and cute?"

"We'll have the conversation in R-space. In the interim, kindly send the first recall warning from R&R, remind everyone we're leaving in fourteen hours, no matter what time it is where they are." Gryzzk shook his head, reminding himself that he was going to have to drink a more calming tea today if he wanted to be prepared for the ship morning.

The rest of Gryzzk's day was reviewing ship necessities, authorizing exchanges for resupply, and finally coming upon a request for communication from Toguri Iva.

Toguri seemed even more relaxed than she had been during the documentary filming, with an ever-present smile. "Major, it's been too long."

"It has, Miss Toguri. I suppose you're looking for a statement on...the Versailles evening?"

There was a soft chuckle. "Well, yes. You perform a rather heroic rescue for some of the most well-known artists on Terra, manage to disappear only to be seen in Mongolia riding horseback as if the previous evening hadn't happened, and you've left us poor chroniclers of action with the statements of the guests, led by one Dennis Spencer - also known as Diamond Shaft." Toguri looked a little sour. "And those people can't put two sentences together without bragging about themselves and their heroic actions in giving up their costume jewels. So please, for the love of your fluffy cute...fur can the rest of us at least get a statement?"

Gryzzk moved his planter in front of himself and dawdled at it for a time, looking at the green shoots coming up. Finally he nodded.

"I...don't have anything prepared for this. The events of the evening are a failure on several levels; the fact that there were no deaths on either side is a testament to my company. Their training and skill made the failure a tolerable one and I am fortunate to have the honor of commanding such individuals." Gryzzk motioned to his planter. "As you can see, my...hobby is making things grow. My current project is growing plants from all the worlds of the Legion and giving them life. Each plant here needs their own soil to flourish, but they can grow in the same air. The trick is knowing the soil that they need."

Gryzzk took a sip of tea, letting his mind figure out where it was going to take this before speaking further. "Much like that, each species needs their own specific conditions. I think there has been an error of sorts; the species of Vilantia and Hurdop need...gentle guidance, in order to flourish. Our peoples wish to earn a place next to yours. I may still have a bit of star-scented optimism when I say this, but I would ask those who wish to aid our planets that you not simply give us aid. Give us jobs, duties. We can be more if we are allowed to be more."

There was an inhalation and a light smile touched Gryzzk's face as he found more to say. "Yesterday I saw my daughter tame a wild horse using only grass and kind words. After that, we ate the food of your Mongolia and enjoyed a night where two species from three worlds shared our songs and dances. I know that we are still learning about each other on a wide level. I would ask that we continue to learn and not take the negative experiences or the positive ones too much to your hearts. I would ask that everyone involved be patient with those who don't look like them, and find new things in common that we can build on, and build together. On behalf of the Terran Foreign Legion, I thank you for the opportunity and your time." There was a polite cough. "How was that?"

There was a chuckle. "Keep talking like that and you're gonna wind up as Ambassador Gryzzk."

"I'd rather not."

"Oh really, why?"

Gryzzk gave a wry grin. "Because as a major of the Terran Foreign Legion, I'm authorized to shoot problems in the face if the situation warrants. I don't believe diplomats are extended the same freedom of action."

There was a soft laugh. "Touché. And thanks for the time. It's going to help."

As the transmission ended, Gryzzk realized he wasn't entirely sure what Toguri needed help with. He wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to know.

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