New Casablanca, Hurdop Privateer Ship Clanfist

Theran was sitting in his quarters debating. They'd sold off most of what they had taken from Moncilat IV, and while the Clanfist was certainly a capable ship, relative to the ships of the Legions they were second-rate. And many of those ships had problems of their own as they worked out the challenges inherent in fusing multiple systems together - not just engineering, but socially. Paradoxically, the companies that were more freeform with their structures were having the best time of it. Still, that wasn't his problem.

His problem was that he needed a job.

He took a shuttle down to the surface bubble of New Casablanca and made his way to the entertainment district yet again. It was familiar ground despite the multitude of languages. He'd found himself visiting the new rum bars that seemed dedicated to replacing the credits in possession of the Vilantians and Hurdop Legionnaires with drunken memories, and considered his options. He had a ship - not exactly a warship, but it would serve adequately to haul freight, and he had another dozen Youthfleet ships that he'd managed to send credits to. He'd spoken to a few ship captains, and while they clucked and shared their stories, it seemed that competition for prime jobs was fierce. Competition for even lesser jobs was also significant, but he couldn't afford to take those. Even mentioning that he had a flotilla at his disposal didn't help, as the phrase "professionally crewed by children" seemed to turn many prospective contractors away.

He walked into Sparrow's, fighting the unease that touched him as he entered - he'd never been to this bar, but like the one across the street it had a mix of Terran pirate decorations with certain Legion decor slowly making itself known. There were posters advertising bounties for members of various ships. Newer posters offered bounties for the Twilight Rose company, with their crimes being many, manifest, and lewd. Theran's gaze lingered on the poster of Freelord Gryzzk, wanted for the usual crimes of indecency, brawling, public intoxication in addition to "flagrant disregard for the jewels of his enemies".

At least now he had a reason for his unease.

He went to the bar, nodding to one of the captains he'd spoken with earlier - Captain Tilax, who was at a small table in earnest discussion with a Terran wearing unusual clothes; all black, save for a brilliant white shirt that seemed to repel dirt and dust. He wasn't sure he'd remember the face, but the clothes stood out.

As Theran settled at the bar proper and beckoned for a banana rum, he glanced around again and tried to nurse his drink without looking like he was trying to do so. Even though the bar was filled with scents, he preferred not to give off any more desperation than he had to.

He was deep within his thoughts, so deep he barely noticed the Terran clearing his throat.

"Captain Theran." The voice was entirely neutral, making a statement rather than asking a question - what was most unnerving was that the Terran's eyes were hidden behind dark square-rimmed sunglasses.

"Who asks?"

"I'm Agent Smith, representing Skunkworks Insurance. I understand that you have many ships at your disposal. If that's the case, I'd like to talk to you about an opportunity."

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk was debating in his quarters. On the one hand, he could wear his full formal uniform for dinner. Terrans seemed to admire the authority it projected, and the hat earned multiple second looks. On the other hand, that was a great deal of effort for their guests - and he wasn't sure dressing formally was worth the time, particularly since it was movie night. He decided to go with regular duty uniform. Despite the excess of accommodation, this was theoretically just another job. As he finally signed off on the last of the daily reports, Gro'zel came in with a slight frown.

"What's happening, Little Heart?"

Gro'zel paused for a moment before considering. "There's a lot of changes. The night people need me too, but I have to sleep."

Gryzzk nodded. "There are. Do you need to wake up later to talk to everyone?"

"Maybe." Gro'zel gnawed at her thumb for a moment. "But then I'll miss breakfast."

"I'm sure if you ask nicely Captain Wilson would have something for you."

She paused for a moment. "I suppose. But what if someone needs me and I'm not there?"

Gryzzk wrapped his daughter into a hug. "The first one you need to take care of is you. You may have to change a bit to make sure you take care of you. The company needs you to be you, and we'll help however we can. Now scoot, you can stay up a little late today."

Gro'zel stayed with the hug for a bit longer before she let go. "We need to go eat - Sergeant Reilly's mama and papa and their friend didn't know how to talk to me." There was a pause. "How come everyone giggles when they say Sergeant Reilly's real name is Chastity?"

That brought him up short. "Well, chastity is a word they use to describe someone who doesn't have a lot of girlfriends or boyfriends. Sergeant Reilly...has had a lot of boyfriends and girlfriends."

Gro'zel pondered this. "So it's like calling Sergeant Major O'Brien quiet?"

"Something like that." Gryzzk took her hand. "Come on. Dinner might be cold by the time we get there. Scoot ahead, I have a few things to watch over before I eat."

Gryzzk exited to the bridge and watched as the evening squad came in, quietly checked their stations and made small adjustments for their personal preferences. In the case of the comm station it was a bit more dramatic as the seat and console adjusted from "Small Terran" to "Average Moncilat". As she left, Reilly's scent was not unlike someone en route to a rather undesirable event.

"Sergeant Reilly?"

Reilly looked forlornly hopeful - like he was going to send her to the stockade. "Yessir?"

"Pants are not optional at my table."

There was a soft laugh in spite of herself. "Yessir."

Gryzzk looked to Rosie. "Ship is yours XO."

Rosie grinned easily. "I have the ship, Major. Keep this up and we'll be rolling four lines before we know it, Freelord. Now hurry up and get ready for the fireworks."

Gryzzk tilted his head slightly. "How do you mean?"

"Well, Sergeant Reilly forgot to mention she's dating Lomeia. I think she's saving that for tonight."

He grimaced as he considered that possibility. "I suppose I should be there just in case Reilly decides to be Reilly."

"You should. And if it makes you feel better, there are three Reillys at your table tonight."

"It does not, but my thanks for the reminder." Gryzzk left, forcing his emotions to the relaxed calm of a Major who had everything well in hand.

As Gryzzk entered, he saw that the Reillys and their additional companion had already begun eating - the sergeant was hunched silently over her macaroni and cheese that had been topped with Vilantian bison, while the other three had selected salads.

Gryzzk went with his usual first-night-out fare; Vilantian medley, Hurdop meatloaf, and Terran mixed fruit to go with his tea. The fresh fruit was popular among the entire company and not exactly cheap. Generally it was gone by the third day out, so grabbing fruit before they had to go to the foodmass was a priority for most.

As Gryzzk came to the table, Reilly quickly scooted out to allow Gryzzk a spot on one of the strategically higher cushions so he could eat without feeling like a child. Delia was dominating the conversation as Gryzzk settled in, thankful that they'd actually minimized the perfumes and colognes so that he only felt like he was walking through a heavy mist of leather and roses as opposed to drowning in a sea of fragrance.

"...oh, and Gabe is a delightful conversationalist! He can talk about anything - one of his ancestors was the Gentleman of the Bedchamber for the King of Sweden. But what he needs now Chastity, is someone who understands him, don't you dear?" Without waiting for confirmation she bulled forward like a Vilantian footballer leapfrogging both balls forward before striking to the goal. "His projects, his art simply need a new touch. I can only be around for so long, and when I saw him dithering about his studio I knew he would be the one you could make happy as soon as you come home and forget all this silly Legion nonsense."

Reilly lifted an eyebrow as she looked over at Gabe and Charles. "I'm sure he'll make one hell of a partner for someone."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Delia sighed softly, the disappointment obvious. "How can you say such things - you've forgotten how to speak properly. Now sit up straight, you're slouching again. This is supposed to be a civilized meal, and you're eating like a pig at the trough."

There was a dismissive exhale. "First, you've forgotten I told you I'm already kinda-sorta-seriously making wedding plans. That do not involve Gabe, or Jasper, or Gwen, or even Simone. Her name's Lomeia, she's from a Vilantian noble family that's kind of on the outs but still has some kick, and she's who I want to be with."

There was a strange sort of patience from Delia. "Chastity, is this some sort of punishment you dreamed up because we never got a dog? You know how expensive those are."

Reilly took a breath and spoke in the exact same cadence at the same time as her mother, making an odd sort of stereo effect. "Almost as expensive as it cost to have me born." As Delia blinked in shock, Reilly filled the void. "That's been your followup line every time you've made a point about how expensive something is since I was six. You started saying it after you and Charles found out I wasn't a genetic prodigy."

She took a drink, deliberately slurping with a slightly delighted scent-reaction to Delia's shocked face. "You wanted another Leonardo or Raphael, but I could only paint basic landscapes. A Donatello or Michelangelo, but I only got as far as making a decent vase. I was writing stories, and I liked it until you fired Mr Keating after I called him 'Dad' because I hadn't quite grasped that people could share first names. Then when you finally realized I wasn't destined to be the Next Great Thing, you decided I should become an accessory. And you've taken six bites of your salad, so you're about to interrupt. Now tell me where I'm wrong, I'll finish eating and then I'm going to stay up late tonight because the Major actually has to tell you something."

Delia was quite unhappy that she was so transparent. "We wanted to give you the concepts of what it is to be an artist. To have a challenge. That's why we went through all the cycles we did. We did that so you would know what art is. To find the nexus of genius and show others where it would be. To find someone and show them how to live."

Reilly finished eating and stood. "I did. She has six eyes carved from the bluest ice, has the softest black and gold-mixed fur that smells like sandalwood and her favorite perfume is a warm apple scent. She runs in her sleep which drives me up the wall sometimes, and she eats what I cook even if it's too bland for her." She paused. "And because I'll be in a good mood that day, I'll send you a picture of our wedding. Don't be shocked when the Major's wives are where you thought you would be." She picked up her tray and nodded to Gryzzk. "Sir. I'll take in the movie for tonight, and then I'll probably slide back here for coffee later." She flicked her eyes back to the others at the table, silently daring them to say something. When nobody did, she left, slotting her tray in the recycling bin and promptly headed aft with a deliberate slouch.

Delia's gaze slowly returned to the table. "You have something of importance Major Gryzzk?"

He nodded. "I do. We have brought in a number of new personnel, and we've been working on a few methods to aid them as they learn the...Legion way of doing things. To that end, I have ordered Sergeant Reilly to stand watch as senior NCO for the evening bridge shift during our time in R-space."

Gryzzk swore that he saw a micropout from Delia. "But our contract requires that she take her evening meal with us during transits."

"Quite correct. However, the needs and future of this company come first. You may alter your schedules, or take your evening meal with her at your normal time - however her schedule will be altered such that she will be eating breakfast during your dinner hour."

"Major, I must protest."

"Your protest is noted." Gryzzk spoke dryly.

"But you haven't heard it."

"I am almost done eating - after this I am going to mandatory recreation in the dayroom. I am told we are screening a film from Hurdop tonight."

Delia blinked, tilting her head. "Mandatory recreation?"

"Yes. It seems that command can be unhealthy if taken to excess, and per the doctor's orders I am required to relax and not work for an hour a day."

"Curious." Delia swiveled the conversation a bit, her scent probing for something. "But really, at some point we do need to have a conversation about my daughter. She has tattoos. Dyes her hair purple - and her complexion calls for blue." There was a sigh. "She ignores artistic truths to spite me I think."

Gryzzk finished eating and thought for a moment. "Miss Delia, I am told that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. Not so long ago, I thought the truth was that Vilantia was deeply superior to Hurdop. That the wars we fought were just and necessary. Now? I am uncertain what the truth is. But I believe that our planets are better off working with each other rather than against. Not everyone believes as I do, but perhaps my grandchildren will have the luxury to say what a fool I was." He stood, checking his tablet briefly. "If you'll excuse me, The Clanlord Sighs Again begins in ten minutes, and I don't want to be late."

As he left the mess hall and got closer to the dayroom, it seemed the air was different somehow. Certainly it was still relaxed, but at the same time it was subtly changed - it took a moment before he realized that the scent was the evening shift, waking and watching the movie to start their day as opposed to finishing it. The real problem was finding space among the re-arranged cushions and couches with his popcorn - another Terran affectation that he'd come to enjoy for movie nights. The bridge squad had collectively taken the night off as apparently they'd had other concerns. Even Reilly was absent, which made Gryzzk wonder if she'd decided to watch from her quarters tonight.

Finally he was able to find a space near the armory group, and smiled apologetically at his intrusion on their space. It only took a few moments before there was some shifting around and Kiole's familiar scent leaned into his, with Gro'zel sitting on their legs.

The movie itself was a bit more amusing than the first - about a half-year after the first one ended, the Clanlord was still undecided with regard to the choices being pressed upon him from both Greatlord and Warlord; the poor Clanlord threw himself into work and solitary activities as much as possible, spending time alone on the water attempting to catch a legendary fish rumored to have been in the lake for generations while listening to the local football team struggle through yet another season as a midtier club. Flashback sequences showed the Clanlord's father taking him onto the water in summers past as they listened to the same radio in the past, listening to the same team with different players winning effortless victory after victory.

What the current Clanlord didn't notice was all of the would-be wives and husbands each hiding along the shoreline separately every time he went out on an excursion and collectively trying to avoid being seen by anyone else as the sun set and the Clanlord returned home with the day's catch. This was a great source of humor as the spouses stammered out cover stories to each other and pretended to not notice the shore-scent on each other's clothing.

Finally at the climax of the movie the Clanlord had hooked the legendary Catfish Hunter and landed it on the boat - unfortunately the fish was so large that the boat tipped after the hook was removed which resulted in the fish, Clanlord, and beloved radio all falling into the water. Immediately all the prospective spouses jumped in to save their beloved but silly Clanlord, and as they all fell in an exhausted heap, the Clanlord looked among his sodden would-be spouses and sighed before saying "I choose..." - and the film went to "to be concluded".

There were snickers and groans from the company, as those who had seen it before caught the surprised scents of those who hadn't. Gryzzk stretched and blinked, realizing the potential for impropriety as he swallowed and looked around. He received a few absent nods, but no real judgment from the company.

Kiole leaned into him. "You laughed a lot. Will you walk me to my quarters, Major twilight warrior?"

Gryzzk considered, and decided he could be allowed this. "If the lady-warrior insists."

"I do."

They walked with Gro'zel in between the two to hold their hands and quietly marvel that nobody was really saying anything. Gryzzk paused at the doorway, glancing left and right before pressing his forehead to Kiole's.

"Husband, you need not fear this." Kiole's voice was gentle.

"Allow me a small amount of fear. I have a deep concern that what I present is right for the company."

"If it lets you stay on the right path, very well."

The two parted regretfully, with Gro'zel giggling and running ahead for a moment before coming back. "Major Papa, I'm going to visit with Sergeant Reilly's mama and papa tonight if they want." She then darted across the ship to the mess to fulfill some request or another.

Gryzzk shook his head, making his way to the bridge where both shifts were engaged in a debate about the movie which they'd apparently cross-streamed to the bridge projector. Everyone had some level of confusion in their scent, though for different reasons. Reilly was speaking casually.

"Well, I mean the baseline humor's obvious - The Clanlord carried himself like someone who wanted to go home, chill out and fish and come home to whoever cranked his main nacelle the hardest, and then suddenly his bosses want him to be head of some polycule where all the kids are his so they can glom onto some glory. The underlying bits are kinda obvious if you think on it, like no matter how high you climb someone's gonna tell you what to do, and as long as you're part of society you're constrained by the rules and you can only push back so far. Like the old man in scene twenty-four, lived his whole life for someone else and at the end he's got a sod-shack, a herd of sheep and a blanket. You gotta live for yourself."

Larion's counter-argument was immediate. "It shows the perils of not following the Clan Way - to be uncertain in one matter is to be uncertain in all matters." He paused. "I admit though, were I in the Clanlord's shoes I would also be uncertain. Each spouse seemed to possess some desirable qualities, but none shone through as a true first-spouse."

There were general murmurs of agreement before O'Brien stood up and rolled her shoulders casually. "As much as I'd love to keep this going, we're just gonna have to wait for part three and hope the Clanlord sorts his shit out. Corporal Miroka, we're hitting our jump point in three hours. You wake me up with a shitty R-space entry and I will be unhappy."

Rosie smirked a bit, her scent one of amusement. "I'll make sure your dreams of Colm coated in gun oil are uninterrupted, Sergeant Major."

"Go to hell, XO." O'Brien's voice was gentle as she left, with each of the day group leaving slowly. Hoban was last, finally standing on his toes to nip at Miroka's ear as she sat at her station. Her eyes widened at the gesture, with Hoban snickering and hurrying out.

Gryzzk shook his head at the scene before addressing the remaining bridge team. "I know this is unusual, but what you do is important. I admit I feel better knowing that you are all here ensuring the safety of this company when most are asleep. Thank you."

Gryzzk went to his quarters and settled at his desk to take note of something that hadn't been there when he left - a rectangular planter the width of his desk sat there, filled with dirt in four separate sections, each with a small packet of seeds affixed to it. He recognized one almost immediately as from Lord A'Kifab, no - his inner voice reminded him that it was Lady Ah'nuriel's land now. The others were different - one section brought memories of Montana and a ride on a horse. The third was completely foreign to his nose, but the last seemed to be similar to Vilantia, but slightly harsher. There was a small note; "Grow something pretty."

A sense of relaxation filled him as he opened the packets individually. The Vilantian packet contained rose seeds, but that was where his knowledge ended. He felt a strange calm as he took the seeds from four worlds, slowly sank them into the dirt and added a small amount of water to each. While he was confident with the Vilantian plants, there was less certainty with the other ones. Still, the work left him feeling cautiously optimistic, and he took to his bed that night with a calm he'd never felt while aboard the ship before.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.