Hurdop Prime, Freecity of A'Jiela

Minister Corial sat in his voluminous chair, watching the sun cross through clouds and lance shimmering light to the ground below. He exhaled softly. "Telai, report."

Secretary Telai didn't even glance at his tablet. "Our agents report success in Antares - accelerated. They estimate the system will be prepared for our peace treaty in months. It seems that elements of the Throne's Fortune are plying their old trade for themselves now, instead of Hurdop."

"Excellent." There was a labored inhalation. "And Draconis?"

"There is uncertainty. Itrop has all but assumed command of the Throne's Fortune gathered there, and has borrowed the moniker of the Freespeakers to great effect. Our agents swear he is a noble Vilantian, but efforts to determine his clan have brought no scent to follow."

"A pity. One less element of leverage to use against him."

"There is an additional report. One of Itrop's closest sworn has taken a new name and speaks of Freelord Gryzzk with something less than raw hatred now. The methods are uncertain, but the goal is clear - Itrop means to place an agent within the Freeclan for intelligence gathering. Now would seem an opportune time; there are broadcasts indicating that the Legion is expanding - we seem to be generating a fine profit margin for the Terrans"

Corial sat with a snifter of liqueur. He inhaled the vapors deeply before speaking. "Contact our sworn within the Terran Legions. All of them. We will place a shadow upon Itrop's sworn, in addition to their current works with respect to Freelady Kiole."

"To what end?"

"If Itrop is indeed a hidden noble of Vilantia, his goal is simple. To return to Vilantia at the head of a victorious fleet and make himself a sovereign, and return to the old ways."

"A war to bequeath to our children?"

Corial steepled his fingers. "In this, I am somewhat aligned with Itrop. But I intend for there to be one more war. And I intend to win it with such finality that the Vilantians will have no choice but to lift their heads in obeisance at every Hurdop shoulder they see."

"What of the Freelady?"

"She can rule Vilantia - she seems to like the planet's inhabitants. Or at least two of them."

Telai paused for a moment. "What if she says no?"

The secretary's response was a casual shrug. "We destroy her clan and another clan takes their place, obviously."

"Even the Terrans? Perhaps a more...measured response would be called for."

"Has the Secretary of Privateers lost his fur?"

"Never Minister. Given what we saw in the Shaming of Vilantia and then Terran press mentioning that what was presented is only a fraction of their fleet strength, I believe that angering Terrans without absolute necessity is an error."

"You make a valid point. Request additional information from the sworn; we will need to determine how to peacefully extract the Terrans from the clan."

There was an apologetic look. "I fear that such a tasking may be beyond the scope of the gods themselves. The Terrans who have sworn themselves to a Freelord are predisposed to a clan-like structure to begin with; those who have taken up a Freelord's banner have proudly described themselves as 'ride-or-die', Minister. For details, I refer you to the reports of Agent Closam within the Foreign Terran Legion."

"Explain with brevity." The minister took a deep drink from his snifter.

"The origin of the phase is not known, however it is a shorthand for an individual that a Terran would go to any length to preserve. The Terran history and myth are filled with such stories who went to their afterlife or returned from that place for the sake of another that they cared for - notable examples being the 117th Spartan, who made mountains of bodies with those who stood between him and Lady Cortana as well as the Draven-crow, a soul that would not rest until the murderers of his soul's mate lay cold in their own graves. It is a status above and beyond their normal level of bonding."

"This presents a challenge, but one you can master. You may go, Secretary." The wave of dismissal was casually expectant.

Telai exited with his mind turning in multiple orbits. It was quite possible he would have to enact a contingency of his own.

___________

Homeplate, Terran Foreign Legion HQ

Gryzzk thought back to happier times. Just a few days ago his ship had arrived back home; the Reillys had a rather civil parting particularly when compared to their arrival. Delia and Charles had greeted Lomeia and Valone with something resembling a positive attitude - the conversation was polite, though the initial tension wafted from the group like a distant swamp. The rest of the company was similarly engaged, himself included. It seemed he wasn't alone in feeling like this job had taken months, when in reality it had only been several weeks. After dismissing the company, the family that had been on the ship clustered around the ones that had stayed at Homeplate, creating something of a protective circle as they all walked to their quarters.

As soon as they'd finished eating their landis'og, Gro'zel and Nhoot retired to their room so that Gro'zel could tell Nhoot what it was really like to ride a horse, and all about her new charge Millennium. Once the children were asleep, news was shared - small stories that were funny and simply couldn't be communicated properly over the mail channels. Kiole's description of the Armory/Security joust and the subsequent Grizzly Alert brought tears of laughter to Grezzk, as well as the story of Kiole being summoned to the bridge post-challenge when Gryzzk's vocabulary had been reduced to a single profane word.

Finally the twins were settled and the adults had the rest of the evening to themselves - they took advantage of the time to reacquaint themselves with each other properly. Which led to the now.

Gryzzk, Freelord of clan Gryzzk, major of the Terran Foreign Legion, Co-Steward of Greatclan Aa'Lafione, was changing diapers. He was familiar with the operation, having performed similar tasks for the infant Gro'zel in a place and time long gone by - lift, wipe, dust, apply ointment, replace diaper, pin, old diapers to the recycler. Regrettably, his sons were not familiar with the process. He had finished with Ghabri, and no sooner than he had set the pins in place for Glaud than Ghabri screwed his face up with intense concentration and fouled what was fresh not one minute before. Gryzzk resigned himself to his task, and then after a second diaper for Ghabri was in place, Glaud decided it was his turn for a second round. Gryzzk gave a soft despairing cry at the mess.

"Is all well, my handsome hand?" Grezzk looked mildly amused at her husband's predicament.

Gryzzk exhaled sharply, waving a hand at the twins as his exasperation reached Grezzk's nose. "I pose a question my rose - are our sons engaging in competitive pooping for their own sport? Two diapers for both of them. I swear they're doing this to spend more time with me."

Grezzk leaned over his shoulder, her own scent warm and relaxed. "They may be. You do remember how Gro'zel had different howls for you and me when she was their age? They haven't yet learned who responds to what verbally. They miss their father, and this is how they express such things."

"We may have to spend more time with them."

"After tonight, I will insist. Vigorously." Grezzk gave a soft nuzzle along Gryzzk's jawline.

Kiole came in with a small bowl of chicken salad and looked over Gryzzk's other shoulder. "Is he having trouble remembering his fatherly duty?"

Grezzk gave a similar nuzzle to her wife. "No, he remembers well. But his sons insist on his presence overmuch it seems. There seems to be only so much they can do to hold his attention."

"They will not be pleased tonight."

"The solution is obvious - spending the day with their father." Grezzk shrugged casually.

Gryzzk protested. "My presence is required on the ship."

There was a soft snort from Kiole. "The ship is docked, and everything you have on the ship you have here. You are overruled, Twilight Warrior. Speaking frankly, I'd prefer to not have to bring your lunch to you."

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A light slump of Gryzzk's shoulders told all three of them who the victor was. "I suppose I could. But only for today - if this continues, I will ask Engineering if it is possible to have a home office crafted. The scent of this work does not mesh well with the scent of home."

The pair of nuzzles he received sealed the decision; he did however change into a grizzly-logo polo shirt before tapping his oak-leaf rank. "Rosie, I will be working from the living room of my quarters today. Advise Sergeant Major O'Brien of this change of venue. Acknowledge."

"Fer what?!"

"I have not spent sufficient time with my family of late. There must be balance in life."

There was a soft snicker as Rosie took over the projector, her form resolving rapidly. "Sure, if you can handle being distracted I can. I'll have someone from Engineering run your plants up to you."

"I promise to keep the distractions to a minimum, XO."

"You're a terrible liar, Freelord. It wouldn't be so bad if you weren't so fuckin' awkward, bud." Rosie cleared her throat and shifted her posture, signaling a persona change from profane work companion to Executive Officer. "First order of business - company expansion. Kiole's cousin Waniul brought the Unification's Fist into dock and has petitioned to join with the entirety of her crew. Background and psych checks came back as clean as you could expect for a Hurdop crew, standing by for your final approval. They're going to need some more crew to get fully staffed, apparently Hurdop tradition is take a minimum complement and then cut that by a third. In addition to that we have -"

There was a soft chime at the door, carrying a familiar scent along with it. Gryzzk blinked for a moment before checking the door-holo, seeing that it was a casually-dressed O'Brien. "Ah...come in?"

The door opened, and in walked the sergeant major, wearing uniform shorts and the grizzly t-shirt that had been adopted as the official off-duty wear of the company. She bent down to fuss over all the children and gave Grezzk and Kiole large hugs before making camp on the couch. "Rosie say's it's home office today and well..." she managed a slight tinge of embarrassment, "Colm's down below at the office today with our data and I didn't want to order takeout for lunch."

Rosie glared at O'Brien. "You're late."

O'Brien lifted an eyebrow slightly. "A Sergeant Major is never late. Nor is she early. She always arrives precisely when she means to."

There was a soft laugh as Gryzzk settled himself with a floor-cushion, leaving the couch to O'Brien. "I suppose given the options, I would prefer Grezzk's cooking to almost any other. XO, you were saying?"

"Well, I was saying that Lagavulin with a Guinness chaser is not considered breakfast outside of Ireland."

O'Brien snorted. "Spoken like a collection of chips that's never tasted the sweet nectar of Glendalough double barrel and Smithwicks. That's your breakfast of champions right there. Lagavulin and Guinness is lunch."

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "As we were saying, company expansion. Sergeant Major, do you have any advice with respect to the new ships coming in?"

"They're all gonna need something. Right now we got the Unification's Fist and those three ships that Tucker's planning to kitbash into one whole one. Unification's Fist has petitioned for a name change. Then Rostin managed to get two of Vilantia's latest and greatest from the War that were getting mothballed - looks like the Crimson Wardrum and the Lord A'Meeko. We're pending new names for those."

There was a blink from Gryzzk. "First, advise the ships changing names that the Legion naming convention requires either twilight or rose within the name. Second, how did Rostin manage that?"

Rosie shrugged. "He pulled strings like a good Navy fellah does. As far as personnel, we've got options. With respect to the ships themselves, well...Tucker sent his initial findings this morning."

Gryzzk glanced at the report and furrowed his brow. "I'm not certain I fully understand 'dogshit' and 'refried dogshit'. I presume this is not a compliment."

O'Brien nodded grimly. "He's not pleased, I'll say that much. Initial estimates are about six weeks - we'll have to reconfigure like we did for the Twilight Rose and strip out at least one deck on all of these. In addition, we're gonna do some new things to all the ships in the Legion - we're becoming a test-bed for new things."

"And this particular one would be?"

O'Brien tapped, and schematics appeared on the living room holo. "Well, it's an additional kinetic shielding - we're taking the Hurdop plastanium from the junkers, thinning it out to create a cover layer over the current ship skin, and then pumping liquid argon between the layers. The idea is that the argon between the layers'll spread kinetic impacts over a wider area, reducing penetration."

"Has this been tried before?"

"Couple times. It sorta works, but the efficiency isn't there yet."

Gryzzk frowned. "What happens in the event a projectile does penetrate? Would the argon not then vent out?"

"Some does. But at the same time the exposure freezes..." O'Brien's voice trailed off as an idea came to her. "Son of a bitch. Why didn't anyone think of that?" The sergeant major tapped on her tablet and hit send. "Told 'em to re-think it and get some kind of honeycomb structure."

"Will that defeat the purpose of having the liquid in place?"

O'Brien shrugged. "Maybe lower the efficiency a bit, but at the same time it'll reduce loss when the old girl gets tagged hard."

Rosie hmph'ed. "I am standing here. Like, right here. And it's my ass getting weight put on it."

Gryzzk interrupted gently. "In any event, I'm going to order the kinetic shielding to be on hold pending a redesign that doesn't vent the argon into space after we take a hit; can we examine the necessary personnel and budget requirements for the new companies, XO?"

"Significant. We've got an actual backlog in the personnel section on all fronts. Bunch of the grunts who were on the ground during the war decided to take their talents to New Casa, so the Terran sections are solid." Rosie's form grimaced as she continued. "Hurdop and Vilantia - got a horde of veterans shy a limb or a foot along with the usual beer-league rejects and petty criminals looking to get out from under what ails 'em. I mean they're all good for something, just don't expect 'em to be anything good until the second period. The ones that aren't bunked up with someone here are making the New Casa hotels rich. In addition, we've had a request from the Pavonian Militia to take in two of their junior officers as observers."

"Suggestions?"

O'Brien grumbled softly. "Increase the training time. If it's like you lot initially, it's gonna take some time - especially if we're taking in veterans from both sides. Get a second sand pit. As far as the Pavonians? That's new - they're not exactly isolationist, but they might be having some problems with the wee spanners of the Throne's Fortune. Grav shouldn't be problem - I think their world's naturally at ship-standard."

Gryzzk nodded absently. "Can we utilize the companies as physical labor? The numbers would seem to necessitate that we expand the facilities somewhat. With respect to the Pavonians, advise that we can quarter them on the ship if they wish to observe immediately, otherwise we'll coordinate with them when our next contract comes in." Gryzzk was already trying to run a cost analysis for construction of new facilities for four more ships and all the support personnel.

A gentle shrug was the answer. "Worst case, they can haul rocks but it depends on what skills they've got coming in."

There was a shift as Gryzzk began taking in the enormity of what was happening - his clan of a few hundred had grown, and was now expected to grow into something triple it's current size. It wasn't a comfortable feeling as he realized that the numbers were going beyond his capacity for memory.

"XO, have the personnel department confirm the new hires and message them that we will be having a formation tomorrow at noon; next order of business, the Moncilat. For this, I would like to call a meeting of the Freelord Council for their suggestions; Miroka and Yomios should also attend. Contact Skunkworks, they may have the only room high enough for the Moncilat to stand up freely."

Rosie paused for a moment. "Skunkworks wants a rental fee."

"The rental fee is their freedom to listen in on our discussion."

"And I quote, 'You're a fast learner, Balto.' Annnd they've accepted. Just need to get a time and date. I've sent the message to the other Freelords."

The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon was taken up with the minutia of command - confirming the various shares earned by the crew and making sure they were dispensed appropriately, cleaning up the reports of what had happened, and finally a map of the next few days.

Once the duty day had completed and dinner eaten, the adults took a long and relaxing shower before dressing in their festive wear, completing the task as Grandmother Danele arrived. There were hugs and nuzzles, as well as warnings with respect to Gro'zel's new pet - Millennium was learning to deal with being petted by folks other than Gro'zel, but he would still nip if one wasn't entirely cautious. Once completed, the adults left to enjoy a night

As they went to the ship to grab a shuttle they were witness to something disconcerting; surrounded by the entire security platoon, Carinda leaped from one of the rafters - after a moment of horror they saw a thin rope attached to her ankles, which stretched taut as she decelerated and grabbed a pair of shotglasses from the ground, and then the rope pulled her back up where she landed on a platform on the sixth floor. One of her squadmates sniffed, looked up and called out "Seven points! Judges?" Three other members of the squad held up cards, showing eight-point-one, eight-point-five, and seven-point-nine. The score was duly recorded and another member took station at the edge of the rafters.

Gryzzk leaned into Kiole for a moment. "Lady Warrior, would you care to advise them?"

Kiole grinned brightly and Gryzzk held his hands to his ears before she bellowed as only a non-commissioned officer could. "GRIZZLY ALERT!"

The scene was amusing - having been caught out yet again, the security platoon braced themselves reflexively. This backfired slightly, as the one currently tied to the rope overbalanced and fell off, shouting profanity all the way down - however he did grab a pair of shots, which may have been an error as there was more profanity after the landing.

Gryzzk called out to the platform calmly. "Sergeant Nelas, kindly explain what manner of training is occurring at the moment?"

There was a slightly surprised reply as Nelas made her way forward. "How'd you know I was here Major?"

"Is that truly a question? I remind you that we have an hour until the rental of Sparrows begins, and the squad is expected to arrive in a timely fashion. I will instruct Sergeant Major O'Brien to fine anyone who is late."

Nelas cleared her throat and answered in her best 'I can explain this' voice. "Well, it's a test of perception and calm under duress. See we tie a bungee cord up here, and down at the bottom we got a couple dozen shot glasses. Jump off, you grab one shot in each hand and hold 'em steady until you get to the platform here. Four points for rum, three for whiskey, zero for water, and minus two points if you grab one of the shots of malort we've got down there. Scores are tallied, shots taken, and the next one goes."

"Explain 'malort', if you please?"

"Officially, it's a liqueur. Unofficially, it's what happens when God stops watching Terrans for five minutes. It's not actually poisonous, but it tastes like it should be." The sergeant paused, considering how to describe it. "It's like someone took perfectly good booze and soaked it in wood shavings and rotten sourfruit, then strained it through Gregg-Adam's jock strap. Anyway, so...we don't make as much as y'all do, so we like to arrive at the bar a little bit primed before we pay out the court fines and whatnot, and y'know. Why not make a game of it?"

Gryzzk nodded. "Ensure that the safety standards are adhered to, and carry on. We'll see you at Sparrows shortly."

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