Moncilat IV-B, Throne's Fortune Headquarters
The second moon of the fourth planet in the Moncilat system had a unique feature in that its local gravity was approximately double the Collective standard, which meant that it and its ice-giant parent effectively orbited each other, with the closer moon orbiting each of larger objects rather indecisively. There were many theories about how it had occurred, with the most prominent theory being that the moon had begun it's existence as part of the parent planet's core.
What that meant for the current inhabitants was that it was easy to move in and stake a claim. Initially they'd taken six ships no longer fit to fly for one reason or another, parked them and secured them to one another at the engineering spaces, and then re-rigged power conduits in order to share energy and re-align each ship to a singular purpose, radiating from the central core. As time went by, more ships were towed and secured in place to allow alternate interior access routes, giving the place a feel that was slowly becoming less and less temporary.
The Moncilat had been easy marks - all they'd had to do was board a few ships and the occupants were offering everything in their hulls in exchange for their lives. After that, the pirates had grown bolder, trading back some of the priceless-to-the-Moncilat items in exchange for modules they could convert as expansions. From there it was easy to open a dialogue with the companies whose shipping they had taken and make an offer - that if they gave proper tribute, the Throne's Fortune would not bother them. If they didn't, then there would be a loss of shipping, personnel, and possibly even ships. Things began turning well, with shipments being lost and captured personnel bartered back for supplies and information. In response the Moncilat had dared to even attempt to smuggle weapons listed as 'energy-based sculpture' for their ships. Those were being examined quite closely in another ship. If things proceeded apace, he and his clan would have Moncilat as theirs in rapid order. From there, other systems beckoned, begging to learn the lesson of Moncilat.
Finally Providence itself had gifted him with their most precious commodity - Moncilat children on a science trip of some sort for their schooling. The teachers had been bartered for, and then they discovered something interesting. The children were all under the care on the Moncilat Militia in one way or another. This interesting reality allowed the Commodore to extract some very useful concessions in exchange for their care and release. It was all going well, and perhaps even well enough to prove to the Moncilat that his was the only protection the system would receive, and then they could become the permanent militia force for the system - and with legal protection, they could begin their privateering anew under a new banner.
Then the twilight-damned Legion had arrived in the system. After the loss of three ships there were Moncilat beginning to question his authority, despite their recovery. So he'd ordered meteorites fitted with thrusters and then de-orbited to strike the planet where the Graceful Loop had staged their three opening ceremonies with the Terran acrobats. The message was simple - dealing with the Terrans or their Legion was to court death in such numbers that it would move beyond tragedy and into statistic. He'd exchanged the life of one of the children for a doctored sensor feed to Orbital Control that didn't show the meteorites incoming. But even this failed, as the Legion had ignored orders to remain in orbit and had intercepted his fist.
He was still tasting the ash of the loss when he'd received a communique in the late evening - one of their other agents was attempting to curry favor and had released an incapacitating gas in a hotel room, allowing three of the Legion to be placed before him. This was excellent because it allowed him to keep the child associated with the Leafborn securely in his domain and exchange him for another favor later. He didn't bother to hide his smile as the three of them had been stripped and new clothing given to them, while the courier ship that had carried them was sent to the edge of the system to await its next move. The Commodore looked at the three of them seated across from him as their manacles were secured to their chairs. Even the child - in his experience, children were the most dangerous because they thought themselves immortal. Still, he was cautious. The scent of the three before him held no fear. He was going to have to take a different tack than usual.
"If you have experienced any...rough treatment, you have my personal apology. But first, introductions - I am Freelord Svitre, Clan Svitre, serving the Throne's Fortune of Hurdop. And you are..."
"Col'un. Freeclan Gryzzk."
"Prumila. Freeclan Gryzzk."
"Nhoot."
Svitre cocked his head. "Your scent is familiar, young Nhoot. I'd like to ask you about your parents if I may." He paused. "Your eyes are quite unique."
"My Papa is Freelord Major Captain Gryzzk, and my Mamas are Grezzk and Kiole."
The Commodore couldn't quite hide his pleasure at confirming he had the daughter of his enemy Lord before him. "Well. That is special. I assure you, here my clan will cleave to hospitality. Freelord Gryzzk's name has reached my ears, and I will do my utmost to ensure proper care for your return. Now please, I will have questions for all of you later, but for the moment I will escort you to your rooms."
As they walked through the ships with many of the ground crew grinning and saluting their Lord, Svitre noted that the prisoners were still unused to proper gravity - he had perhaps two days before they would be reacclimated and therefore become a problem. First he moved the two adults to a cell that was away from the children. If they somehow managed to get out, he needed to ensure they could not easily scent out Nhoot or any of the other children. From there, he gently guided Nhoot to place her with Yomios' surety of good behavior. Perhaps a cellmate would stop the almost endless weeping that he heard.
The welded-bar door closed and Nhoot took a breath as she regarded her cellmate. After taking full stock of the misery that had permeated the walls, she turned around to regard Svitre as he stood outside her cell, her fur rising along her spine to the base of her head.
"You have something to say, child?"
Nhoot nodded, her violet eyes flashing anger as she spoke. "Papa's gonna gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you."
___________
Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose
Gryzzk felt a ball of cold lead forming heavily throughout his entire body. "XO, confirm the report if possible. Captain Hoban, issue orders to expedite retrieval."
Reilly's voice came back on, a little firmer. "Major, we also have a few guests from the Throne's Fortune group with us. Orders?"
"Sergeant, they are to be escorted to the stockade. Make the necessary arrangements."
"We'll advise when we're en route." Reilly shut the transmission down.
Gryzzk swiveled to Rosie. "XO, report."
Rosie shook her head. "Pinging, no response. Wherever they are, they're out of range."
"Do we have any intelligence on where they would have been taken?"
"The packet from Skunkworks highlights three most likely places."
Gryzzk looked down at his tablet to scroll and decide what was next. According to the message from Doc Cottle, he was to report to the dayroom. He took a deep breath before exiting the bridge and stalking the passageway, only just remembering to discard his shoes before stepping on the grass.
The dayroom itself was empty save for Jonesy, which suited Gryzzk's mood quite nicely. That meant he had control over the jukebox, leaving him to scroll through the selections for something that did fit his mood. He selected a low war anthem from Vilantia, with drums and low voices promising death to the Clan enemies. Jonesy sauntered over, unconcerned with Gryzzk's mood as he stood with his hands clenching and unclenching, watching the jukebox display reverberate and dance in time with his selection.
The cat jumped up to rest on the now-warm top of the jukebox and lounged for a moment before sitting up, yawning widely, and gently batting at Gryzzk's face for attention. Gryzzk took the cue and began petting Jonesy carefully, trying not to disturb the cat's fur too much. This seemed to be a pleasing action Jonesy, if the rumbling purr was any indication. Gryzzk listened to the soft rumble for a moment before moving elsewhere, his feet carrying him to the centerpiece of the dayroom - the spear of Clan Aa'tebul. There was a small placard explaining the spear's significance, however someone had carefully crossed out the spear's original name, with an arrow pointing to a second plate declaring the name of the weapon to be Legion's Javelin and instructed the viewer that it could only be wielded in the most desperate hour by the Last Defender.
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The idea of a legend growing around the Legion seemed to put a gentle blanket of warmth around Gryzzk - that he would not be the only, but simply the first of many. It was a good feeling.
Gryzzk's spell of solitude was broken by the arrival of Jonesy, who swirled around his shins and ankles, before rolling over and mutely demanding a belly-rub. Gryzzk complied for a moment before his comm chimed.
"Major, it's Reilly. They're in the stockade."
"Understood." Gryzzk gave a final skritch to Jonesy before leaving, and he arrived to see several guards with aggressive scents clouding their forms, and Reilly and Edwards standing at the door.
The prisoners had not been treated gently. They had been given the barest amount of clothing required for decency - small uncomfortable looking shorts, with no shirts or shoes. In addition, someone who was in all likelihood Reilly-shaped had removed most of their fur, leaving only the head, underarms, and chest unadulterated. On their shoulders was their clan symbol - a stylized flower clenched in the teeth of the dead gods. The fur itself had been changed as well - instead of the normal straight fur it was tightly coiled in ringlets. The scents from the cell were anger and shame all in one, which seemed about right.
Reilly and Edwards both had a grim smile on their faces as they walked stiffly toward Gryzzk.
Edwards jerked a thumb back to the prisoners. "So funny story, if you soak a Vilantian-slash-Hurdop in salt water and then introduce repeated electrical charges their fur gets like, super-curly. Also, it kinda reeks. I'm not sure if I should apologize or snicker but I think someone might consider this a criminal act. They're not exactly talky at the moment - they were chatty earlier but then they decided to play the Quiet Game."
Gryzzk gave a little wave of acknowledgment. "Good. You are both released until the doctor clears you for duty. I would like you to use the available time to provide a report regarding your findings."
Reilly closed her eyes and looked at her tablet. "I do not see a message from the doctor. Respectfully, I'll be on the bridge after I've changed."
Edwards nodded her agreement. "The son of bitch must pay. Sir."
The two of them walked carefully toward the bridge with Reilly softly singing in the Terran war-language, leaving Gryzzk to wonder just what else the two of them had learned. The four Hurdop in the cell began to smell angrily defiant as their captors left. Finally one of them strode forward to cast their eyes to Gryzzk's feet.
"This is a coward's ship, crewed by the shameful. We will say nothing until we receive proper apology for this blasphemous treatment."
Gryzzk steepled his hands together as he replied through the door. His voice was quiet and controlled, but his scent was a chilled anger. "If you will not speak, you will listen. I only need to know one thing - how to retrieve my daughter and clansworn. My wives are particularly fond of Nhoot. We've spoken about many things regarding her, and we've spoken about other things as well. You see, one of my wives served with honor in the Hurdop Navy for many years, and she experienced many things. She learned that someone who is ejected to space does not die instantly. It is a slow death, and presumably not pleasant. From there, your furless soul will pass to the twilight of judgment beyond my care or concern. Now on this ship, we always have three eyes toward efficiency - a result of the rationing programs that were in place on Vilantia in addition to the fact that we are oriented toward profit."
Gryzzk paused in speaking to stalk back and forth, allowing all the prisoners to hear and scent what he was saying. "Consider. It costs this company to provide you with food. Sanitation. Air. Whatever bounties you have may not fully offset those costs. In the balance it is far more efficient to open the airlock and send you to the dead god's mercies without even a hint of a warrior's death to cling to. I don't think you'll survive as long as my wife's comrades did, what with your current...state. So consider what I need to know, and remember that I only require one of you to speak. The ones who do not speak? Will be dealt with efficiently."
He left them there to consider their fate as he walked to the bridge.
"XO, have good news for me."
"Larion has reported to the bridge as ordered. Edwards and Reilly made it to their quarters, but are currently in the medical bay insisting on whatever procedure is required for them to be at their posts as rapidly as possible. Points to them for going until they couldn't. Also, we have received a request for communication from the Leafborn."
"Good. How is the communication marked?"
"Urgent, but not eyes-only."
"Hail them, please." Gryzzk settled in his command chair, noting that Larion was already working to adjust Edwards' preferred layout to his own.
The image of Captain Dulaine appeared on the bridge, looking and smelling quite mixed. "Major Gryzzk. I have several items that I must speak to you about. First, as a result of the events of yesterday our government is taking two actions. First, it is chartering a company with the specific purpose of hiring and maintaining good relations with Terran mercenary companies. We...our peoples require a mindset that is radically different than the current one, and until we can provide that for ourselves the expedient measure would be to look to those who can provide that mindset in the interim. Secondly, we are undertaking investigative actions to determine which personnel have been compromised by the Throne's Fortune group and how they were compromised, subsequently taking proper actions against them. With that in mind, I have former crew who would like to make a request, and perhaps begin the process of mending." The scent had turned to shame and unhappiness, as Miroka and Yomios came into the picture. Their uniforms were both a pastel-colored purple, which seemed to be some manner of punishment.
Miroka spoke first, keeping her eyes fixed on Gryzzk. "Major, when I spoke to Captain Hoban, I asked certain questions at the behest of Yomios. I, I believed that Yomios had an intent to learn more about your ship's operation. That belief was not entirely correct. As a result of this, we have placed your daughter in a potentially dangerous situation. For this error, I have resigned commission and would like to enter a contract involving transport to New Casablanca at your leisure. I have savings to pay for what is needed." She stepped back, her scent one of shame.
Yomios moved forward, her eyes bright as she rocked back and forth, finally taking a seat and curling into a crouch. Her scent and posture were disjointed and she spoke. "My...the Throne's Fortune holds my younger brother. They, the Commodore, their leader told me that...he's only six. I've been making sure his schooling goes well. When the opportunity came for the field trip, I was overjoyed. His," Yomios hesitated, wringing her hands together. "He's so smart. But so...he is gentle, even by Moncilat standards. He was taken, held." Yomios' eyes began to well and spill un-noticed tears. "They said they would release him if I made sure they had information, and if I gave them things. Images of your daughter. Her whereabouts. I...spent time with the scanners and was able to follow your daughter from the park to their hotel. They...it was at my doing. I thought that the...it hurt, but Pogrin is my only brother."
Yomios paused to brush at her eyes. "And then I showed your painting to the rest of the communication specialists. Their opinion was different after a fashion. The anger is there but it is born of a desire to protect. That you - what you have." She paused, taking a breath and resetting herself mentally for what was next. "I have been sentenced to five years in exile, as is proper. I, I request to be allowed to join Miroka on your ship...to...take actions to free your family. And mine." Yomios looked away from the pickup before the view returned to Captain Dulaine.
The Captain's face and scent were grim as he spoke again. "Major Gryzzk, I have been authorized to cooperate with your company in whatever way you deem fit. I will say that - recent events notwithstanding - our sensor suites and shielding systems are superior to yours, as those systems have been a point of pride."
Gryzzk exhaled, taking in all the information. "We will contact you when a decision has been rendered. Twilight Rose out."
The bridge was silent for a few moments while Gryzzk collected himself. "Thoughts?"
O'Brien spoke first, sighing softly. "Major, it's been a good couple weeks since you've done anything that reflects your mad stupid noble bastard-ness. That said, we've got a couple storage spaces that Gregg-Adams was using for spare parts back by engineering - higher ceilings'd probably be good for 'em. We could maybe refit one of those, and for the record, I'm not sure how much help those two'll actually be - unless you wanna see what huntin' geese with a rake looks like."
Hoban grimaced as Gryzzk's questioning look was directed at the helmsman. "I'm not certain that I could give an unbiased evaluation at this point, sir."
There was a growl from the Sergeant Major. "First smart thing you've said in awhile. Come upon a situation that's more than fucked, and you thought 'Y'know what this situation needs? My dick, because the situation's not fucked enough.' Swear, pilots are just...mad."
Gryzzk cleared his throat. "I understand that everyone has an opinion. We'll get to those in due time. Sergeant Major, organize a party to refit a storage space for their quarters. Ensure the quarters are proper. Meanwhile, XO?"
Rosie was calm as she spoke. "In the immediate, their ships do have better sensors which would allow us to sweep the system for unusual drive trails and begin deciding how to attack. That with what we've got from Skunkworks might help us take numbers for some justice. In the long term..." Rosie shrugged. "A fellah asks for help, you help 'em. And no lie, the Moncilat need help."
Gryzzk looked over to Edwards' station. "Larion. Speak your mind on this matter."
Larion's features flickered in surprise before he spoke. "Major, the...the Clan Way speaks of these situations. That a clan without a firm Lord is no Clan, and that the right action is for a proper Lord to take over and act as such, bringing them within by the most immediate means, for one strong clan is superior to a strong clan and a weak clan. This may be what prompted the actions of the Throne's Fortune in the first place - they see this entire system as lacking what they - we could consider proper leadership. But older writings speak of different action. That to build alliances between clans is more proper than to build your own clan, and to protect a Clan until a proper Lord can be raised up from among the commons is the most right."
As he settled into his chair again, Gryzzk considered. "Very well. In light of recently discovered knowledge, we will bring them aboard. XO, advise Gregg-Adams that he will need to find new space for his parts, alert medical that we will need a full workup on our two new passengers. Further, advise Leafborn that we will work with them to...expunge certain elements. Captain Hoban, take Larion and a shuttle to the Leafborn for pickup."
Rosie smirked. "They'll be getting a good welcome."
"Elaborate, XO?"
"Freelord Major, I remind you that it's curry night."
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