Draconis Cluster, Unaffiliated Collective Cargo Ship Divine Breeze

Itrop sat at his chair, reading reports and nodding with contentment. Events were beginning to turn favorable to his scent, and he enjoyed the feeling. The Antares system was a delightful pool of chaos and dread, as the inhabitants began fighting even within their own factions for the resources to continue fighting. Which meant that those who had the means to transport were in high demand. Which in turn meant that payments were high and for those without credits other things were being given up as the economy withered to a more basic system of barter. The predictive models were good, and all he had to do was continue doing what he was currently doing, directing the actions and keeping the populace uneasy.

Bob handed over a new tablet. "Chapma has written to his wife. Misabel confirms that she is pregnant - he has sent the entirety of his advanced wages for her to purchase necessities." Over the past few months, the Helots had altered their speaking cadence and vocabulary to be more comfortable to the rest of the crew.

"Advanced wages?" The phrase didn't make sense to Itrop.

"Yes. The Legion pays a one-week advance for their new hires in addition to other skill-based hiring bonuses, with that advance being deducted over the course of their training period."

"What a curious thing."

"It would seem to be on the surface. However it seems to aid in retention of new recruits."

"Is the bio-conditioning holding?"

"At this stage, yes. However it will not hold against time or extreme stresses. Misabel is playing her role quite well and being the dutiful wife. We will reinforce his conditioning through Misabel's message traffic." Bob paused, his limbs moving in a slow pattern that seemed to denote uncertainty. "I have a query."

"Ask."

"This action seems disproportionate to the slight Freelord Gryzzk offered. You have taken one of your subordinates and had him mentally conditioned with a new identity that accepts the Legion's existence and success. You have granted him wife and child and had his conditioning reinforced to ensure that those priorities remain paramount. However, even with these actions the probability of Chapma killing Freelord Gryzzk and escaping is fifteen percent under ideal scenario conditions." There was a pause from the Helot before they continued.

"Your escape from Vilantia proves your superiority, and the superiority of those who follow. You are superior to Aa'Tebul and Aa'Benie. You now have ships, with the freedom and means to go where you will, save the three systems of Terra, Vilantia, and Hurdop. Why continue this course of blood-vendetta, when it is more reasonable to avoid his path and live well - there is victory in remaining at large. So long as you escape the law, you are above it."

Itrop held up a single finger. "He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him." He closed his hand into a fist. "I will chase him around the moons of Nibia and around the Antares Maelstrom and around the dead god's own flames before I give him up. He defies the Clan Way - our highest law - with every breath he takes, but with his final breath I will have him know the price of defiance." There was a pause while he relaxed his hand and flicked some imagined debris from his armrest.

Bob took this in with a casual neutrality, apparently calculating. "There is minimal logic in these desires. Very much like the Terrans."

"The Terrans are an unrestrained emotive force, taking us from the path our ancestors set for us. They are a wildfire that must be extinguished, along with all those who follow their banner." Itrop shifted comfortably. "We are simply abiding by natural law."

Bob nodded a calm agreement. "My personal data is incomplete, therefore I withhold further inquiry pending additional observation."

"Excellent. Fleet status?"

"Growth has halted for the moment, however in terms of numbers we now have a total of thirty-six ships at our call. Once we have obtained greater sway over Antares, we will see a greater influx. Armaments are currently quite mixed - we recommend a staggered upgrade and standardization protocol to include ballistics as well as plasma-based weapons systems."

Itrop was suspicious. "To what end?"

"Matching the capabilities of the Legion - if we are to meet them in battle, our ships will need to match their offensive capability. Unless we plan to assault their home port immediately upon conclusion of this conversation, at best we will only outnumber the Legion by six to one in a fleet action - it would at best result in stalemate. In addition, the Legion has allies that may be called upon and would in all likelihood join the battle. However there are records of Terran ships refusing battle with the reason offered as 'giving the other guy a sporting chance.' We may be able to take advantage of their generosity, however I would prefer not to rely upon it."

"Upgrade costs?"

"Seventy percent of our current monetary reserve will be depleted at the end."

"Very well. Begin the upgrade requisitions, and make sure that the ships are ready to convince the Antareans of our generosity as quickly as possible."

___________

Homeplate

The morning came early - or to be fully clear, the evening never actually ended for Gryzzk. The events and discussion over a mixed dinner of macaroni and Hurdop cheese with cured bison reverberated through his mind, causing a night where he lay in bed staring at the ceiling for hours as his memory replayed the conversation in his mind. The feeling was shared, and finally the three all gave up on sleeping and slowly moved to start the day early after changing from sleepwear to normal day clothes. When Gryzzk checked his tablet, he found that Rosie had already sent him the schedule for the day as well as a revised document for distribution to any and all observers detailing the Legion history as well as salient facts regarding their ships. In addition he saw abbreviated schedules for the ship captains.

Kiole shook her head. "I can't believe it wasn't an ambush." She kept her voice soft in deference to the sleeping children.

Gryzzk chuffed softly as he checked over his plants. "Lady Warrior, it is said that we do not interrupt an enemy in the midst of making a mistake, however the fool who attempts to ambush an enemy on their own ground deserves whatever fate awaits them." There was a pause. "Doubly so here."

"Fine, I hoped it was an ambush." Kiole almost pouted.

Grezzk smirked. "She so wanted to show off all the things she'd hidden in the stroller."

"I scented a few things." Gryzzk glanced at Kiole.

Kiole looked impish for a moment. "We've been working in the armory, and we've been able to make improvements on the standard needler pistol."

"At your earliest convenience, pass my compliments to Captain Garrett and ask to begin formalizing a training regimen. If it's going to be in our armory, I want basic familiarization for all troops." Gryzzk placed his hand over Kiole's for a moment.

Kiole glanced at the clock and frowned. "That'll be in three hours."

Grezzk looked between the two for a moment, sipping at her own tea. "Should we perhaps not ignore the beast keeping us all awake?"

The two Legionnaires looked at their wife and were almost embarrassed. Kiole spoke first, shifting herself slightly. "I am not entirely comfortable with your Throne knowing of my existence - and the extent of their knowledge is frightening in a way. The scroll held all of my naval honors. And to be considered a Vilantian noble is...different from what I dreamed of as a child."

Grezzk nodded agreement. "It is different somehow. The clan calls me Freelady, but for someone outside the clan to say it is a thing with an unusual scent."

Kiole snorted. "Wait until you see the statue of us in Throne City."

Grezzk froze, her fur rising more than slightly. "...the what?!"

That diverted the conversation fully, with Kiole's vivid description of Gryzzk's half and then both Gryzzk and Kiole described the rest of the family in such terms that Grezzk was left rather flustered. "It...but why?"

There was a shrug of uncertainty. "It seems that the Throne and ministries seek to elevate the commons in an unusual way. Perhaps they simply ran out of war heroes."

Grezzk paused and nodded. "I've seen some things. The new holo series from Vilantia seem to be elevating the commons, or showing them as the wiser ones who aid their noble masters in some way." She squared her shoulders. "I suppose, I suppose I should start getting used to oddness."

There was a soft laugh from Kiole. "I would have hoped that you would be used to oddness before you married me, my shield."

For that, Kiole received a soft swat on her shoulder. "This is a different oddness than taking your scent in, dear." Grezzk stood, moving to the nursery to check on the twins and the older children before coming back out.

"Edwards is currently between Nhoot and Gro'zel. I don't think they allowed her to leave last night, and I don't think she minds."

"We will need to wake her up before too much longer." Gryzzk glanced at the clock.

Grezzk moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast - apparently today was Terran Breakfast Day, with large pans of scrambled eggs and turkey sausage being put to simmer quickly.

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The scent was enough to bring Edwards and the girls out slowly as they blinked the fuzz from their eyes. Kiole bent down to take a handkerchief and wipe the sleep away from the eyes of her daughters before she picked up Ghabri from his place. It seemed almost a ritual had been established - the twins settling with their own preferred mother as the morning began in earnest.

Breakfast was an odd affair, as the girls made one last-ditch effort to keep Edwards from leaving for an eternal month with questions about Skyrim and not-subtle hints that they'd be lost without her. For her part, Edwards was entertaining them to a point. Finally she stood.

"Major, I seem to have lost my directions to the commandant's office. Would it be a problem if the Morale Officers were to guide me to the Commandant's office?"

"Of course not. But you are lacking proper uniform, as are they." Gryzzk pointed. "Formal dress uniforms, inspection in ten minutes. Spit-spot."

Nhoot took an extra few moments to make sure her plate was in fact clean of any food molecules before she chased after her sister, with Edwards moving to commandeer the master bathroom after with a calm demeanor that belied the sudden anxiety in her scent.

At precisely ten minutes, all three stepped out to the living for Gryzzk to look the three over with a calm cold eye. He stood on a chair, and then on his tiptoes to examine Edwards' beret and her collar rank.

"You shined both sides. Very good." Gryzzk nodded his approval.

"Corporal Kiole passed along your critiques, sir."

"Excellent." Gryzzk hopped down and checked the uniforms of the Morale Officers, finding them in proper order. Finally he stood before them, considering what to say for a few moments. The sleepless night was taking a toll.

"Lieutenants, your tablets have directions to the Commandant's office. You will escort the sergeant to her temporary duty, present her to Commandant with my compliments, and return to me promptly, for further awaits us all this day." He took a knee to look at both of them. "At all you times you carry yourselves with the dignity and courage expected of the Legion's officers."

The girls nodded solemnly, and he patted them on the shoulder. "Well, off you go."

As the trio departed, there was a long silence in their apartment. Grezzk chuckled softly after a moment. "She did that on purpose."

"Probably. But, it seems to have been effective." Gryzzk nuzzled both of his wives, feeling a wash of tiredness flow through him. "It is going to be a busy day. You two should rest with the children, I'll send them back here when they find me."

There was a light from on the faces of both his wives, with Kiole speaking for them both. "You need rest as well."

"I will ask Rosie to build a nap into my schedule today."

"Which you will ignore with the first thing that comes to your mind." Kiole placed a gentle hand on Gryzzk's chest. "As an Armory corporal, I am required to maintain all weapons at peak efficiency - and the deadliest weapon in a commander's arsenal is their mind. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't do everything in my power to maintain that weapon. Now, we're going to change and get ourselves set for the day." Kiole moved to the master bedroom with purpose, still carrying Ghabri and not waiting to see if Gryzzk was following.

There was a soft sigh from Grezzk as she watched her wife depart. "Our wife...a delight to witness sometimes." Her scent became slightly less amorous as she glanced down at herself for a moment with a soft pout. "I need to exercise more. Terran food is very rich, and it's having an effect on me." She pinched her hip. "And I wish to be fit if I am going to keep up with you two."

"Kiole and I will make every effort to ensure that the three of us can dance long into the night for many years to come." Gryzzk nuzzled her briefly before Kiole came out in her own duty uniform, and Grezzk walked the two of them to the door with a pair of meaningful swats to the rear.

"Our wife is in a mood." Kiole's observation was quiet as they descended the stairs to the ship for morning assembly.

"Indeed. She fears for her beauty after three children. Perhaps tonight we should remind her how beautiful she is."

Kiole frowned. "She can exercise and diet. I still have four months before I can hope to lose weight. I'm already getting bigger." She cuffed his shoulder. "It's your fault."

"As I recall, someone was quite insistent that they find out what our child looked like."

"You didn't have to be so agreeable to the notion."

"And discard the ancient wisdom? I think not."

"What wisdom is this that you speak of?"

Gryzzk held up a finger, speaking dramatically. "Heed the desires of your spouses, nobles - for it is in their desires that joy is found."

"Oh, so we're nobles, are we?"

"The Throne seems to think we are. On Vilantia, that is an opinion that carries weight."

Kiole shook her head. "Silly. Your Throne takes a thing that has been known to Hurdop since Freedom's Flight, applies it and tries to make it their own." She paused for a moment. "What does noble actually mean?"

Gryzzk glanced at his tablet for a bare instant - they were well early, so there was a bit of time. "As a child, the nobles were heroes. Always rushing about to do some great deed or another - tend the sick child of a greater lord, defeat bandits, rescue a first son whose heart had grown swollen with glorious purpose but without the scent of the wisdom gained from experience." Gryzzk paused. "As an adult...I have a less charitable opinion of most of them."

Kiole reached up with her artificial hand and the two of them shared a brief shudder as she stroked his cheek gently. "Then we should try to be the nobles that would please a young Lead Servant." She leaned in to take a long inhalation of his scent before she stood firmly. "To our duties, Major?"

"To our duties, Corporal."

Morning assembly was perhaps even more frightening, as the majority of the individuals present in the formation had only just arrived and smelled distinctly ill at ease as they saw every spare centimeter of the docks filled with equipment and supplies, and on top of that, the Pavonians were shadowing him from a distance. The Pavonians were still wary, but at least they were wearing casual uniforms as opposed to body armor. Remembering O'Brien's advice, he kept it short.

"Troop. I encourage you to take deep the scent of the clean shipwear you currently have. They will not be clean by the time you sit down for dinner. I know many of you signed on because you've heard our stories and how the flexisheets make it seem as though the galaxy needs heroes, but it only has us."

Gryzzk paused for a moment to let it sink in. "Humbug. The galaxy has more heroes than it has individuals to admire them. What the galaxy needs is someone to do the jobs that the heroes will not do. To spend days bored, and minutes praying for the return of boredom. For the moment, you will not be bored. You will be receiving training in due course - but first we have to create the forges you will be tested in. Behind me are six ships waiting to be built with a seventh en route. Around us are quarters waiting to be your quarters. Attend to your sergeants and officers, and look forward to the day you look back upon this with nostalgia. That is all. Company Commanders, take charge."

He had thirty minutes before his first appointment of the day - a meeting with the lead three of the Cerberus Rose; Captain Venlid, First Sergeant Jirloed, and Chief Engineer Torres. Gryzzk intended to use the time as best he could, and as his Pavonian shadows trailed him mutely he tapped his tablet for a channel to his favorite Sergeant Major.

" - Fucksakes, is this how you lot handle tools? Let me lay down holy writ, you soft muppets; you are dealing with plasma cutters and grav carts, neither of which bear any resemblance to Mary Jane Rottencrotch back on the block - they are to be treated with respect. Look at that space wee Khadri carved out. Any of you lot think that cutter in your hands gives a flying fuck if it's cutting rock or meat? So them that's on cutter ops - before you touch that trigger, you will look around for any of your fellow prolapsed anuses to ensure they're not in line of fire or fall, then give warning so that the surrounding mental defectives can form the idea of getting clear and possibly act on it before you turn a slab of rock into three tons of debris that falls on someone else and makes the baby Jesus cry. If you can't grasp the base concept of working safely, turn your fuckin' papers in now and get your asses out of my beloved Legion so you don't fucking infect the competent with your rampant godless tomfuckery." Gryzzk quietly blessed his translator's ability to convert O'Brien's angry inflections into something coherent.

Gryzzk cleared his throat loudly. "Sergeant Major? Report to Major Gryzzk's conference room on the double if you please."

"On the double, understood." There was a brief pause as O'Brien addressed her charges. "Sergeant Reilly - take charge of this heathen mob and remind them that clown shoes are not authorized footwear in the Legion." The channel clicked off and Gryzzk started the timer before glancing at the Pavonians.

"Apologies, but Terrans have a gift of profane speech, and our non-commissioned officers take pride in elevating that gift to an art unto itself at times."

Mulish scribbled furiously on a tablet before looking up and speaking hesitantly. "I'm afraid I have a question, Major. What precisely is a...'prow-lapsed ayhnis'? Our translator was unable to render the syllables."

"Prolapsed anus?" Gryzzk was concerned when the Pavonians' posture and scent immediately went to horrified shock before Mulish gathered himself. "Ah. Yes. Profane speech." There was more scribbling.

"If you wish, our communications department may be able to work with your translators to interpret a broader range of vocal accents."

Philon gestured curtly. "We will see."

At one minute and thirty-seven seconds, a disheveled O'Brien appeared. "Sir?"

"Sergeant Major, take a seat. I have twenty-six minutes before a day of meetings, and I would like your opinion on the incoming new hires."

O'Brien exhaled heavily. "We're herding kittens for a few days. We've got the ones with construction backgrounds on carving duty, and the ones without are on hauling rock to the printers to make the niceties of living. The lot'll be cleared from the ship and sleeping in their own beds tonight if I have to knit the blankets m'self." She glanced around. "Rosie'll not be joining us?"

"She'll be along shortly. At the moment, I am thoroughly disappointed in Rosie, as is Chief Tucker. In the interim, your opinion regarding the officers and senior non-commissioned?"

"Mad bastards, the lot of them. I presume you're going to get her opinion when she comes out of the corner?"

"That is presumed, Sergeant Major. We hired them, and they accepted." Gryzzk grinned wryly. "Of course I will. Despite Rosie's exuberance with reading material, she is a valued member of this clan and crew."

O'Brien drew a cup of coffee from the printer, apparently using the time to form her opinion into something that wasn't overtly offensive to the Pavonians. "The Vilantians are the ones I'm worried about. First Sergeant Rileth's application is...heavily redacted, but mentions her service on the Thronehammer of the Third Vilantian Warfleet. According to one of my friends with a friend in the War Ministry, she was cashiered after our shakedown dust-up and given a half pension. Husband left her immediately after, took the kids. She's been working on tramp ships since then."

Gryzzk flicked an ear. "How precisely do you have friends who have friends within the War Ministry?"

"You'd be surprised what a bottle of proper Irish whiskey'll buy you on Vilantia these days." O'Brien winked before continuing. "Moving to Captain Venlid - her lot is a touch worse. According to my friend's friend, she was XO of the Ascendancy out of the Seventh Warfleet. She'd been married as a secondwife for all of a week before the Kerfluffle happened, which was undone before they even found her on the floor of the bridge with a concussion and two broken limbs. Ministry at least waited until she was able to walk before they told her she'd never board another Fleet ship again. Her pension draws got soaked up in drink and fines for assault, mostly on Terrans. She spent a couple nights in the drunk tank, and then it looks like Rostin called in the last of his favors to spring her conditional on joining the Legion."

"So your concern is..."

"That they plan on short but glorious-in-their-minds careers with the Legion, y'daft bastard." O'Brien paused to take a swig of coffee. "The Hurdop are less of a worry in that there's only one of them you've had a hand in kicking around. Captain Bulfrek lost a leg in the last Hurdop-Vilantian war, they shunted him to a desk jockey job expecting him to sit on a shelf and collect dust. He saw a Terran aid worker with a new foot, asked a few questions. Then he saw Corporal Kiole's interview and the next day put in for retirement so he could come play with the big boys 'n' girls. Jirloed might be a problem. Rumor mill says he was part of Svitre's armada on Moncilat."

"And my first meeting is with Captain Venlid and First Sergeant Jirloed."

"In four minutes, aye."

"If it's not too forward, where's your stunner?"

"On me. I took the liberty of placing one under your chair, sir."

"Excellent." Gryzzk turned to the Pavonians. "I'm going to ask you to exit to the bridge for the duration of my first meeting."

Philon seemed offended. "Excuse me?"

Gryzzk's voice was velvet steel as he stood, fur rising slowly. "A situation exists which has the potential for violence. You may avail yourself of any of the ship's amenities, but you. Will. Give. Us. The. Room." He paused for a half-breath, willing his fur to return to a more natural placement. "Please."

The Pavonians gave them the room.

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