Humans for Hire

Moncilat Prime, Foreign Terran Legion Ship Freelord's Gyrfalcon

Captain Drysel glanced around, still getting accustomed to the new bridge layout. On the one hand this was part of the shakedown; on the other hand there were still the occasional incursions from the outer portions of the system - ships that jumped in and left before they could get anything more than a basic type scan, never in the same place twice. He tapped his fingers nervously on the chair of his arm, finally looking to his XO.

"Analysis, Teemu?"

His XO leaned back a bit; Teemu's form and a few of his mannerisms had changed along with the ship. He seemed a touch more aggressive, like a defensive footballer converting to offense. His voice still held the same warm rounded tones it had. "Freelord, if I didn't know better, I'd say whoever's doing that is doing some fishing. They're taking on a bit of a pattern and avoiding the standard cross-system jump points. We'll need about five more appearances before I can confirm it."

"Can we divert the local Militia patrol ships to scan and prepare?"

"We can, but they're truly only good for scans and defense."

"Then we utilize them as such." Drysel nodded toward his comm station, addressing the only Terran bridge crewman currently on station. "Whistler, request the local patrol ships swing wide through the system and leave a few passive buoys. I'd like more information before we move in. Then message the Lofty Mountain and the Fjordhammer to pass by the buoys after the next jump and pull the data."

There was a nod as the tall-even-for-a-Terran whistled softly as he tapped and opened a channel to relay the request. "Done and dusted; also, the Twilight Rose is going to be in-system in a few days. Mailburst came in with the latest, they did their usual thing and they just left Terra."

Drysel swallowed nervously. "Thank you, Whistler."

Teemu sniffed at his captain. "Sir, I've got five credits that say Freelord Gryzzk can smell your nervousness from R-space. You've taken several ships, collected bounties, and you cleaned up the bases that he missed. The Throne's Fortune groups are theoretically smart enough to work a comm station, which means they talk. Freelord Drysel and the Foreign Terran Legion are not to be fucked with, and they know that."

"Not everyone - there appear to be a certain group of fishermen who are rather dedicated to discovering our capabilities." Drysel sipped at a cup of rich dark coffee before speaking again. "Also, I'd like to know what's happening in Draconis. A few of the prisoners we spoke to said there's someone new in the system cobbling together a fleet for something."

"Respectfully Freelord you have just described every system in the galaxy." The XO's voice held its usual dry sarcasm.

"I should like to know more about what's happening there."

"So would just about everyone else. Kindly stop trying to fight two wars at once before I message Freelady Dinoae. She would not be offended to spend an evening consulting with you."

Drysel took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "Freelady Dinoae has made her feelings quite clear."

There was a soft snort from tactical, as Cleista turned to look at the command chair with amusement. "Freelady Dinoae is a traditionalist. The year of testing has begun - and begun well. At worst, her clan will owe yours a child. At best, two clans become one. She looks after her clan first, even above her own desires."

Drysel sipped his coffee and considered. "Thank you for the information. Now about the sides of your skull..." he indicated the freshly-shaved-and-tattoed portion of his tactical NCO's head, which complemented the normal warbraids. If Drysel was being completely fair, it didn't look too bad, but he was quite certain such a fashion statement would have put Lord A'bantir in the hospital from shock.

"Ran out of room on my shoulders, Freelord. Didn't want to give my new clan any less of a position just because it's led by a Vilantian."

"Fair enough."

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk wasn't entirely sure about the cause of it, but the ship felt warmer somehow. He'd consulted with Rosie and confirmed that the ambient temperatures hadn't changed. His mandated recreation hours had been cut in half, but he still lingered to talk to whoever was around. Gro'zel was almost constantly in motion, listening to recordings and helping the unlettered with their words - the rumor was that she had shamelessly offered feathers and bird-skritches as rewards for good work at reading. Movie nights were something of a treat; The Clanlord Sighs Forever was a hit on the second night in R-space, with the Clanlord attempting to marry each of his would-be spouses in turn and each wedding being interrupted by some crisis or another. He'd even caught Delia wearing a t-shirt and talking to all the pregnant women the next morning.

But this was their last evening in R-Space and it was Moncilat Day. Rosie was making a general announcement every hour with some fact or another about the Moncilat homeworld. Some facts were interesting, like the fact that traditional Moncilat craftsmanship didn't use tools, instead they grew things using the local wood in combination with shaped crystals from Moncilat V in order to produce bespoke items of daily life. To Gryzzk it seemed a bit tedious, but Yomios seemed quite proud of the fact.

There was a soft bugle call of the speaker system, alerting Gryzzk to the latest fact. "This hour's Moncilat Fact is brought to you by Apeldorn Farms, where she's always knee high by the 4th of July and the ugliest Apeldorn'll be the first to tell you. So did you know that out of all the species in the Collective, the Moncilat were the only ones to invent fur-care product before the wheel? You do now. Rosie out for another hour."

Gryzzk was going to have to check with Miroka on that later.

As he approached the dayroom he felt the subtle shifts before he saw the multitude of warnings that the area gravity had been tuned to Moncilat standard. With that, he entered the dayroom and felt his stomach flip slightly. Rosie was there with most of the off-duty company members as they began looking forward to a few days off. From what he'd heard, there were several individuals who were planning an excursion to the surface later.

At the normal lectern for announcements, Yomios and Miroka were standing and looking a bit concerned while O'Brien waited for the crowd to settle down. Being more than idle curiosities was something novel and possibly a bit frightening for the two, and their postures reflected that. They were using the sergeant major as something of a shield while she spoke as their eyes kept swiveling toward the exit.

"...now I know you got questions, and these two tall drinks of water'll answer as many as they can. Normally I'd say there are no stupid questions, but I don't tempt fate like that. There are stupid questions, and anyone who asks them - Reilly - might find a surprise in their duty roster on the way home. So think long and hard before you ask how Moncilat take a piss."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Reilly tried to look offended at being called out. "Question - why am I always the bad behavior example?!"

O'Brien gestured. "See? Stupid question, right there. Totally forgets her first question about the major was 'Is he single?', and also conveniently ignores the fact that her normal shore leave outfit is commando...so. Reilly, ask your stupid question."

Reilly stood and grinned. "So, question for Yomios - scale of one to ten, how loud is Miroka when Hoban's taking her to Pound Town?"

There were scattered groans and O'Brien shook her head. "Reilly, you are the reason we have warning labels on our warning labels."

Reilly managed to look indignant as she replied. "It's a legitimate sociological question - I was gonna ask Miroka the same thing about how loud Yomios gets when U'wekrupp is introducing Tab A to Slot B. "

O'Brien glanced at the pair of Moncilat who were both varying degrees of embarrassed that their proclivities had been publicly advertised, rather than quietly noted and commented upon. "Corporals you are authorized to give yon horny bint one smack upside the head after the movies are done. For the record Reilly, I noted the cargo lockers are filthy as I passed through earlier today."

The rest of the Q&A went fairly smoothly, with only a few hiccups when something didn't quite scan culturally. The oddest part of Moncilat society was that they didn't have deities or objects of worship. When pressed, the Moncilat simply shrugged awkwardly and whispered for a moment before Yomios admitted that according to their history, the gods had been devoured by the predators of Moncilat before the predators themselves destroyed each other. Other than that, the questions ranged from the innocuous ("What is the obsession with chocolate?") to the curious ("What's the worst gravity-related injury you've had?") to the Reilly-inspired ("Just how illegal is streaking on Moncilat, and will the cops let you go if turns out you're just wearing Bear Booty Shorts?")

Gryzzk groaned softly at the more scatological inquiries, and was a bit pleased that the sergeant major was prepared for such inquiries - O'Brien had a small supply of squishy throwable objects for those who earned her ire. A few times she simply chucked one at Reilly for no apparent reason except to remind the comm sergeant to be quiet.

Finally mats were spread on the grass of the dayroom and the lights dimmed for the evening holo, which was advertised as a Moncilat classic. It seemed a romance of sorts, with two large families preparing for a wedding – the clans involved appeared to be of equal status, which created complexity as they were being joined together. There didn't seem to be a single protagonist; rather as each scene developed there appeared to be a protagonist for the scene itself as one family member or another pressed to advance their own plots as each of the family elders took turns at playing a game of stratagem, with scents conflicting as each character seemed to have multiple different goals.

Gryzzk was lost, but attempted to learn the intricacies, slowly sliding his tablet out to make tiny notes before . Finally it seemed that the game had been decided, and the original spouses were set aside in favor of a younger couple - as the twenty-day affair concluded, the original couple in the back whispered their own oaths as the second couple was given the grand ceremony, which involved every guest giving a speech of approval to the new couple. As the holo concluded, the original couple stole away in the night to where a shuttle was waiting to take them away to some unknown destination.

As the lights came back on, Kiole gently elbowed Gryzzk as they walked to her quarters.

"You're not supposed to take notes. It's an entertainment, you should feel what's happening and not try to be apart from it." Her voice was gently reproachful.

"How can I feel something if I'm not sure what the meaning is?"

"Use the senses the gods gave you, husband. Close your eyes and be a part of the experience."

"So you say."

"I do. Now kindly guide us to our next destination."

Gryzzk looked around before giving Kiole a discrete nuzzle. "Then we go home and give our wife the attention she deserves."

Kiole softly hummed into Gryzzk's ear. "I look forward to it with a shiver of antici..." Kiole let the word hang for a near-eternity. "...pation."

Gryzzk shook his head as he walked to the bridge, working on a few things and going through the rosters for shore leave - it seemed that almost everyone was planing on going to Moncilat; and to be fair Gryzzk was considering it. Terran gravity was an experience, and there were probably not going to be many opportunities to experience what life was like at one-third of what he considered normal. That said, he did have two company members who weren't going there. He contemplated if it would be better to stay on the ship and see if he could figure out the subtexts of the movie. There were similar contemplations, but what truly let him staring at the ceiling far longer than it should have was the thought that he was unleashing his company on Moncilat Prime with only a day's notice.

If he was lucky, Reilly would be kept in check by Edwards. Mostly.

In the morning, there was the normal functions of the ship, and Gryzzk was in his command chair in good time for the return to regular space. Hoban casually set course for Moncilat Prime but waited for the checks to be completed before actually moving toward the system.

Edwards called out softly. "Major, ship on intercept course. Ident says Freelord's Gyrfalcon, squawk coming back as Foreign Legion of Terra. Weapons warm, shields are up." Her voice belied a level of uncertainty, as if there was something amiss that she couldn't put to words.

Gryzzk considered for a moment. "Maintain course. Sergeant Reilly, hail them when they're in range."

After almost an hour, communications were established. Gryzzk's face lit up unintentionally when he saw his old friend from the before times.

"Captain Drysel. Moncilat treats you well, I hope?"

It took a moment, but Drysel nodded stiffly. "It does, Freelord. Our world prospers, and we have you to thank for it."

Something about Drysel seemed off, and Gryzzk cocked his head slightly. "Well, it's not just me - my company is quite responsible for our collective success. Just like yours."

There was a too-casual shrug from the other end. "It's said that the gods look after fools, children, and ships named Twilight Rose."

This conversation was veering from odd to uncertain. Gryzzk tapped a message to the bridge team, and gave a nod to Rosie to bring the company to readiness. "Captain Drysel, since we're both here, would it be possible for your ship to make its way to Moncilat Prime in a day or so? Lord A'Ponile would never forgive me were I to treat his Lead Servant poorly."

The overly enthusiastic scent from the other end brought a chill to Gryzzk's spine. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Freelord. We could escort you to Moncilat Prime, if you would not be offended."

Gryzzk kept his own emotions in check to radiate his own pleasant enthusiasm at the prospect. "I could never be offended at walking next to an old friend." He nodded to Hoban. "Captain, maintain current vector and allow Captain Drysel to match." Gryzzk then returned to regard the holo. "Apologies, old friend but duty requires a few things of me at the moment. We'll speak again soon."

There was unbridled enthusiasm from the other end. "I certainly hope so."

The transmission ended, and Gryzzk stood, tugging his tunic down snugly. "XO, stand the company to. Sergeant Major O'Brien, exercise all weapons, Reilly send a message to the militia that we have an issue that needs attending - if they have any weaponized ships we would appreciate their diverting to our position. Edwards, sets scanners to maximum - anything that's not empty space approaches I want to know."

Everyone immediately set to their tasks, and after setting the weapons up, O'Brien finally glanced back. "Alright, this is the part where you explain what in the name of Dagda's hairy ballsack is happening."

Gryzzk's voice was soft. "That's not the real Captain Drysel."

"And you know this from a five minute conversation how?"

"When we were on Vilantia, Drysel's sworn lord was Lord A'Bantir - not Lord A'Ponile. Everyone check your stations for something unusual. Whoever that actually was, they have discovered trickery and I should very much like to find out who they are and how large a bounty they have on their heads."

Reilly was the first to report. "They don't have anything on the War Frequency. That ain't right - everyone responds to the War Freq, even if it's just telling me to fuck off. So either Whistler's drunk again, or that ain't Whistler."

Edwards spoke next - and her news was not good. "Ship configuration looks like they cobbled something together - I think they were trying to put on a fake outer shell and ran out of time or material."

O'Brien added her two credits afterward. "Tactical assessment, no railguns. At all. Coming back with some Vilantian plasma turrets gussied up to look like they're railguns. Now I'm kinda curious."

Gryzzk took the information in for a moment before coming to a decision. "XO, get the boarding parties loaded to shuttlecraft - whoever they are, I don't want them to get too close."

Rosie nodded, her form taking on a set of combat armor as various systems activated. "Alright titfuckers, this is not a drill. Seal off engineering. Non-essential personnel to your quarters, stand by for DC ops. Boarding parties, load up to your designated shuttles. Set the fuckin' tone and show these mange-farmers that pokin' the bear is a bad idea."