Hurdop Prime, Freecity of A'Jiela

From the twelfth story of a dome that rose above all others in the city, the Minister of the Treasury leaned back in his chair and looked at all the finery about him as the twilight gave way to evening. Statues, gems, and other items from dozens of worlds littered his office. The two floors below that comprised his living space were similarly packed with opulence. He sat and contemplated what he'd just been told with a light frown.

Most Hurdop were slim at best, the years and decades of rationed nutrients taking a toll on them. Minister Corial was an exception to this. With the entire treasury of a planet as his responsibility, he could afford groceries.

"Tell me again, Secretary Telai - why is this Itrop to be trusted?"

The Secretary of Privateers - formally known as the Secretary of Interstellar Commerce - looked a bit nervous as he spoke, his much slimmer frame a tribute to running several flights of stairs every time the Minister wished to speak with him. "To be quite frank Minister, he is not an individual I would trust for many reasons - not the least of which is the fur that rests on his shoulders. However, he has gained a measure of control over the remnants of Freeclan Svitre. According to our assets, the control may be strengthening - he counseled against the aggressive elements that attempted to destroy Freelady Kiole's ship. With the results of that action now being cleaned up and used to reinforce the Freelady's legend here, the more cautious voices may speak louder."

"Is it a control that we can use?"

"Not at the moment. However, our assets in the Draconis system are prepared to make overtures and provide discounted aid. Particularly since he seems open to mimicking the success of Freelady Kiole's clan after a fashion."

"Expand."

"On his ship, his first officer is a Helot and his chief engineer is a Terran. He appears to see the value in other viewpoints."

Corial didn't so much stand as rotate his bulk from his chair to his feet. "I see. Have an asset test him with the opportunity on Antares."

"Minister?"

"Secretary, I am not accustomed to being questioned."

Telai grimaced, but continued. "I had been informed that the situation on Antares is volatile; perhaps something less sensitive would be a preferred choice if we truly wish to test him with minimal exposure to ourselves?"

"You are well-informed, Secretary. However, this time calls for us to be bold." Corial shifted himself to sigh theatrically. "I was quite content to be a Minister to the Throne, however I cannot abide this peace without the riches of victory, and I certainly cannot abide these Terrans coming to our world to tell us how to run it. They ask far too many questions to be healthy. If we are to achieve our goals, we must move at an accelerated pace. That pace requires an acceptance of larger risk. Carry out your orders, and consider that you may adorn your name with a ministerial title if you move quickly and properly. Now if you please, I have several new potential wives to interview as a result of the repopulation laws. Busy yourself with the task before you, and accept a new one. Gently inquire into Freelady Kiole's service records and clan history - if she could be convinced to take her clan to Ceti Alpha V with us it would make a fine bit of publicity, hm?" The minister moved to a serving tray where he selected several pastries and a bottle of spirits before gracelessly moving to a side door.

The Secretary of Privateers left hurriedly, not wishing to be privy to what were likely to be unpleasant noises.

___________

Hurdop Prime, Eterina Acres

The twilight lingered and finally fell to the rural darkness that reminded Gryzzk of his youth. There was a faint glow of sorts, a city most likely. Kiole's words had brought the cluster to silence as they each contemplated possibilities.

The reverie was broken by Jojorn approaching. Her scent had changed a bit; it was resolute, hopeful, and afraid all at once. In addition to this, she was wearing what appeared to be something more than casual clothes. When she spoke it was somehow unnatural, as if she'd rehearsed her words in her head.

"Lords, ladies. Floxis bids you to come and enjoy the meal she has prepared for us this evening." Even her cadence was different - as if she had taken the first few lessons in Vilantian high-speech during spare moments over the past few days.

The group stood slowly, with Jojorn's oddness noted but un-commented on by all. Gryzzk held Kiole back for a moment.

"Love...have you had a chance to speak with her?"

There was a brisk nod. "I did. She may require additional convincing, however. We may need to speak to her as a family."

"Will that work?"

"It might. I'll see if I can't take her aside later tonight."

They walked into the dining room and Gryzzk had to force himself to keep moving to his seat at the right hand of Kifab. The gesture was comforting, even as he looked and saw graceful curves everywhere he looked; the arches that formed both ceiling and wall support were chased with thin metal that roped around and finally at the pinnacle formed what was likely Eterina's clanmark. There were flashes of familiarity as he recognized designs that he'd seen at the orphanage, but here there was a sense of it being much richer in a few obvious ways.

The meal itself was odd and familiar all at once. The first oddity was that the servants ate at the same table as the nobles of the house. The second was the meal itself. It was similar to a Vilantian meat stew, but it had additional things that seemed to be fish, and the broth was thick to point of being a suspension. Even Kiole was looking at it oddly.

There was a soft smile from Eterina as she noted their odd looks. "Apologies, but Floxis has been experimenting in the kitchen of late. One of the Terran programs has been to help introduce additional foods - they have several edible roots that they are attempting to cultivate in the hope that they can be successfully transplanted here without causing great disruption. Currently there are specimens being grown in laboratory conditions. This appears to be a potato broth. Have you tried them, Freelady?"

Kiole smiled a bit. "I'm afraid my knowledge of them is incomplete - the extent of it is that one can boil them, mash them, or stick them in a stew, and that the Terrans believe that they are the perfect counterpart to something called 'a good brace of conies.' Even that may be wrong, but given the number of times I've heard my Terran clanmates say it, there may be truth to it."

Eterina shook her head as she began to eat. "Terran clanmates. Vilantian husbands fathering the next generation of Hurdop. Truly we live in momentous times."

Gryzzk tested the dish - it didn't seem to cause any immediate illness and was in fact quite delicious. It didn't take long for everyone to finish and pass many compliments to the chef, who seemed almost embarrassed by the praise as the table was cleared and nobles moved to the sitting area, where a holoset was tuned to play soft music. After a few minutes, the servants came to the room as well to join in whatever conversation was happening. The atmosphere was like the dayroom in that there was minimal deference to social standing, but there were still some formalities. The ranking as far as who got the most comfortable areas seemed to begin with nobles, then to pregnant women, then everyone else in some unknown manner.

The only true oddness was Jojorn, who had changed clothes again to appear in something a bit more daring - it was almost like what Kiole had worn on their first visit to Sparrows. She fidgeted and hovered in a manner that was not what Gryzzk had come to expect from her as the rest of the household settled into low couches and soft cushions.

"Captain. Is there something amiss?"

Jojorn nodded, seeming to brace herself for a moment before she spoke in a voice that was too loud and too quiet all at once as she addressed Kiole. "Freelady, I wish to claim wife-right."

The reactions were mixed. Among the servants, there were light grimaces and knowing headshakes at what was coming. From Eterina and Kifab came a sense of resignation. Kiole had a sternness to her scent as she broke the silence.

"Did we not speak of this, Jojorn?"

"We did, Freelady Kiole. But the law now demands that those capable of making children do so. I can, so I must. I have choice, and I have made mine."

"You are a ship's captain and not yet of the age of majority besides. You are doubly excused from the law."

Jojorn's voice was soft and plaintive, her accent slipping to low speech. "But I want to. With him. Only him, Freelady - I want to have children that are strong and wise. I would not crowd our bed with others."

Kiole took a breath and held it for a moment. "Your intent is not in question. However there are other opinions that require consideration. My household has many members, and the Freeclan many more. They would all question our wisdom and rightly so. You are my clan-cousin, so I'll allow you time until you reach the proper age to think about your request. But until that time, we will speak of this no more." Kiole's voice took a slight edge. "Were you outside the clan, I would feel very slighted at the insinuation that the wives of Freelord Gryzzk are inadequate with respect to their duties to him or each other. I assure you we are not. And if you will not listen to me, listen to him."

Gryzzk shifted himself more upright to settle on his knees as Jojorn moved to seat herself in front of him with pleading in her posture before she spoke.

"Freelord. Tell me your heart and I will listen, I swear it." Despite the firm words, Jojorn's scent trembled at what might happen. Shifting from hope to fear, desire to pain, finally settling into an anticipatory fear of a heavy blow.

Gryzzk reached out to touch Jojorn's shoulder and arm as he spoke, keeping his voice level. "Captain. Take these words and scent - when we first met, I mistook you for a boy until you demanded to be released so that you and your crew could fight for my ship, though your hand and foot were injured. Then after, in my ship's mess hall I saw a girl weeping not for herself or her injuries, but for the food that had been spilled and the losses her crew had taken. In that conversation I knew with all the surety the gods gave me that you would be special. That you were destined to be a good thing that two worlds so desperately needed. In that moment I resolved to do as much for you as I could - to give you roads to walk." He moved a hand to touch her brow and smooth it as he continued.

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"Kifab and Lady Eterina have given you roads as well, and no doubt they take pleasure in seeing you take on your duties with the excellence I was privileged to see. It is pleasing to me to see you grow and change; during the War I held no doubt that you would do well, and that all you truly needed was a protector to guard your hold. You remember my words to Terran Command." There was a pause while he let the memory come to her. "While I can't deny that I have love for you, it is a father's love and not a husband's."

Jojorn looked up at him with her eyes and scent threatening tears. "But...Freelord, why. Gryzzk..." her voice trailed off with his name.

"Because your place in my heart is where my children live. Do not despair, for my children will tell you it is a good place - I hope. But my desires for you are the desires a father has for his children. That you grow strong, wise, and put wrong things to right when you can."

He moved his thumbs along her face to wipe away the tears forming on Jojorn's face, letting her maintain a semblance of dignity. "There will come other loves in your life, and I will be glad to meet them. There are so many things I have seen that I would have never dreamed of seeing at the last spring planting. I envy you, that you have a head start on me in this. In taking jobs that will take you to strange new worlds, to see new civilizations. To boldly go where I will never go. And you will go there with your crew. Because you promised your crew that you would take them to your collective birthright of stars."

To her credit, Jojorn didn't immediately break down. Instead she nodded a few times, with her voice husking out. "I. I need to use the bathroom." She then rose and left quickly, but not before her scent betrayed the sharp heartbreak that only the young experience.

As soon as she left, Gryzzk deflated. "Apologies. I...did not think it wise to leave her uncertain. But I didn't want her to forget herself."

There were a few smiles and nods, and Gro'zel wrapped her arms around both Gryzzk and Kiole. "I hafta go help my big sister be less sad now." She then moved slowly to follow where Jojorn's trail led.

___________

Eterina Acres, Jojorn's room

Once the door closed, Jojorn hurled her clothes off and changed into a loose Legion shirt from Terra before she sank herself into a ball. If failure was a religion she'd be wearing robes and a chain of office. Everything had gone so differently in her mind - Freelady Kiole was supposed to agree that another mother was needed for the clan when they spoke privately. Instead she'd simply said she needed to grow more, and that their family was already growing at a decent pace. There was a brief moment of asking about being a consort, only to discover that there was no room in their family for such a thing.

But Jojorn was a woman and they needed to see that. So during the time before dinner, she'd researched ways to make herself look more womanly using Kiole as a guide. Then she remembered what Kiole would wear to work when she was laboring with the Terrans. Finally she'd found the right look after remembering all the press about the celebration at Sparrows with Freelord Gryzzk and the one truly responsible, Kiole. She froze all the right frames, found the right ear-coloring and eye accents...

And then dinner. It was such a wonderful thing - she'd tried not to be present and not obvious like all the advice-boards said to do. She'd even remembered to speak like a Vilantian would; a real one and not the comedy props the Ministry of Speech kept pushing. In her spare moments she'd watched the dramas and comedies and romantic vignettes of the star-crossed lovers, and there she'd found the words to say. Then she found other words, and finally made them her own. It was perfect.

Until it wasn't. To have Kiole rebuff her like that, even hint that were they not clanmates Kiole would have taken offense. Even finally, a last plea to Gryzzk himself, to turn Kiole's heart of stone to one of gentle fur. Surely he would see her as a woman where Kiole couldn't. After all, Kiole had known her since she was a child. Gryzzk would know a woman's scent.

Except he didn't. His nose had placed her with his daughters, forever doomed to be an infant. His praise somehow stung worse. He could scent that she would be worthy of his fur and rejected it all the same. His gentle touches reminded her of Kiole when she would soothe injuries and break up arguments. Finally her embarrassment complete, she'd lied and left in her own shame. The worst part was that they were all so close to knowing, but they refused. All she could do now was imagine what was and ignore the ash she'd buried herself in. Her old habits reasserted themselves as she sank her face into her elbow to weep silently as she had so many times before when she'd had to give up her meals, make decisions that meant others would grow hungry, and enforce the discipline in the way that she'd been told she had to when her crew had faltered.

Then there was a knock at the door. Of course. She couldn't even be left alone in her new darkest hour. She didn't say anything, even as Gro'zel poked her head in, invading her space with a scent that was Gryzzk's and also not.

Gro'zel was a bit tentative as she spoke cautiously. "C'n I come in?"

Jojorn sat, not daring to speak and willing her scent to something that was more mature. Calm. Civil. It...sort of worked, but the miasma that had been her sorrow still clung to the air and betrayed her emotions to someone she didn't want to have know her thoughts.

After a few moments, Gro'zel took the silence as permission and moved herself to sit next to Jojorn. There they sat, neither really seeming to know what to say next for several minutes.

It was Gro'zel who finally spoke to break the silence. "Promise not to tell?"

The reply was disappointment cloaked in sorrow. "Tell what?"

The young girl seemed to screw up her courage for a moment. "When I first met Nhoot I didn't like her. She smelled funny. She was always around Mama and Papa. I didn't like a lot of things back then. Lord A'kifab took our Names from us. Papa and Mama were scared a lot. We had a holo but they didn't have Lord A'odgers, so I missed that for awhile. Then they painted the ship with Nhoot's eye color and not mine, and she got to go with Papa first instead of me."

Gro'zel leaned into Jojorn's shoulder gently. "But then she came back from the first thing and she was different. She smelled more like Papa and she talked about Grass Day and how planets were ships without ceilings and how she was going to be a captain and that she was gonna have a Grass Day If You Wanna Touch Grass Day. And...it was okay. And she's okay now. Even if she plays Skyrim wrong. She doesn't go to dungeons and get stuff and get paid. All she ever does is go find a farm and grows stuff there. There's a bad Papa in the game so she fixes him and adopts his daughters and makes them not sad and grows food there and then goes to her other farm and grows more food and pouts because she can't grow Hurdop food."

Jojorn's voice was jealously sullen. "So?"

"So...I guess I mean, I'd rather have a second sister than a third Mama, cause Mama had twins and I only have one sister but I got two brothers. It's more fair to have two sisters and two brothers. An' Lord A'odgers says it's okay for a child to be a child 'cause that's what childhood's for."

"But...but why can't they see I'd be a good wife?!"

"I think he doesn't want any more wives or husbands cause we're sorta still mushing together." Gro'zel scootched into Jojorn's space a bit more. "Papa just told four Vilantian noblewomen they couldn't be Mamas."

"As he should. Vilantian nobles are just greedy and stupid." There was a pause. "Except for Kifab, and he doesn't count because he's not really a noble anymore."

Gro'zel nodded as she moved to fully sit on Jojorn's lap. "Papa can be stupid too. He didn't want to let Mama Kiole join the Legion and they argued about it for a long time until Nhoot said how Papa was stupid."

"...So?"

"So...uhm." Gro'zel thought about it for a moment. "So I think it's okay to be Papa's daughter. But Papa likes to spend time with us and tell stories." She slid off Jojorn's lap and stood, offering her hand. "So you should spend time with him if you're gonna be his daughter too."

___________

Sitting area

The room fell silent as Gro'zel left, with Gryzzk already cursing himself inwardly. Somehow, he could have handled that better. Some word or gesture could have been made allowing the conversation to complete well, some route that didn't end with him destroying a young heart with the ruthless efficiency of a shotgun.

"I know that scent, Lead Servant." Kifab's words brought Gryzzk to the now as the former Lord shook his head, standing. "Believe me when I say that may have been the best path." Kifab walked to a cupboard, taking out a small bottle, pouring and adding ice to a pair of small tumblers before pouring a small amount of a pungent liquid into each. "Now, I mentioned that I have turned to a new passion of sorts." He handed one of the tumblers to Gryzzk. "I'd like you to try this and let me know what you think of it. 'When the mighty War-Lord Gryzzk visits, he must be offered the best wine.' Though this isn't wine."

Gryzzk smiled in spite of himself as Kifab called back to one of their childhood daydreams of pretending to be old men coated in the scent of glory and victory. "I will be cautious. 'And if the Wise-Lord Kifab offers, then the War-Lord Gryzzk must drink.' I believe that's my line."

"You remember well." Kifab took a delicate sip and after a moment to take the scent, Gryzzk did the same.

The aromas were layered, with a sharp hot spice counterpointed by a floral mixture. The aftereffect was a gentle warmth, harder than wine but at the same time more rounded and full. Gryzzk set the tumbler aside for a moment, taking in the mixed scents from the room as everyone seemed to be expecting his judgment to be rendered soon. Gryzzk took a long moment to consider.

"It is, quite good. Were there..."

"Twilight rose essence yes. One of the few plants that transferred here and managed to survive."

The two sipped and enjoyed the companionship as the atmosphere slowly brightened. Kiole gave the two a slight eye before she spoke.

"So did the two of you do this...play-acting as heroes often?"

Kifab chuckled softly. "We did. We would watch movies while our fathers attended their duties, and there was always some manner of heroic weekly drama that we would quote to each other."

"So that's where he gets it from." Kiole seemed satisfied by the answer.

Gryzzk took another small sip before protesting. "We were boys, barely older than Nhoot and Gro'zel."

Kifab seemed confused. "I seem to be missing something."

There was an evil glint of sorts from Kiole's fur as she realized that it was story time. "My twilight warrior absolutely loves some of the entertainments from Terra - though he'll only admit it to the gods themselves. When we're on the ship in R-Space, we have a different movie every evening - right now the crew's favorite is this Terran serial about a group of righteous outlaws that fly through space going to Draconis for jobs and then somewhere else all the time for criminal endeavors so they can keep flying. The last one in the serial we saw had a sword duel..." Kiole lowered her voice conspiratorially. "And then after the challenge from the Greatlord, this silly oaf quoted it."

"Quoted it? How? The recordings we saw didn't catch the audio well." Kifab's eyes crinkled as he was about to learn something new.

Kiole jumped up and did a passable imitation of Gryzzk holding the Legion Javelin. "Oh it was so well done...'Mercy, is the mark of a great man.' Stab. 'Guess I'm just a good man.' Stab again. 'Well, I'm alright.' And then walks off all confident and certain."

Kiole's parody of Gryzzk had the room in barely-muted stitches, especially since they'd all seen the recording of Freelady Kiole's husband once again proving that a Vilantian who was fortunate enough to be married to a Hurdop was far superior than even the greatest nobles of Vilantia. This led to Kiole telling several more stories about the ship that had even Gryzzk smiling a bit as he sipped and enjoyed the new spicy mixture from his friend.

During one of the stories, Gro'zel returned, leading Jojorn by the hand and settling herself in front of Kiole, which left Jojorn to awkwardly sit with her back to Gryzzk. He noted that Jojorn had changed clothing to be less risque and more comfortable - though he was going to have to ask how she'd managed to get her hands on a company bear-shirt. It was a welcome change, to his mind. As the night progressed with Kiole and Kifab swapping stories about Young Gryzzk and Major Gryzzk to the delight of all, Gro'zel began to slowly move back to settle onto Kiole's lap. Every time Gro'zel moved, Jojorn would move as well.

The end result of this as the night ended was Jojorn settled into Gryzzk's lap, with her scents being a confusion of disappointment with the beginnings of acceptance, with Jojorn's intermittent touches being tinged with a slight hope. Kiole seemed to be withholding immediate judgment. Gro'zel settled and had her own scent that accompanied a job well done. Eventually both Gro'zel and Jojorn settled into a peaceful slumber - Jojorn took a bit longer as she was still trying to prove she was an adult, but eventually relaxed and began breathing regularly, peacefully. It seemed as though there might be a good turn from this in the end.

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