Humans for Hire

Draconis System, Neutral Zone Bar

Itrop gazed at his mug of ale. It was distasteful stuff, sharp to his nose with a taste that lingered far too long - it was going to be a long time before this would be palatable, if ever. Still, it was a celebration of sorts; their mission to Antares was quite successful with Bob and Harry consulting whatever indexes they used for calculation and determined that it would be a matter of months before the citizens of Antares would be ready for any sort of stability. The sort of stability they could bring at the opportune moment. by ones and twos ships from both Hurdop and Vilantia had heard about the opportunity in Draconis to make a stand for what was right.

Still, even in the midst of celebration there was work to be done. Itrop's gaze swept over the bar, watching as Commodore A'Mungd accepted congratulations for his elegant use of the Lord's Trap formation in order to chase off and defeat the local naval vessels that had attempted to pursue them. The spoils from those ships had included several multiprinters that Harry was re-purposing to their own power grids. They were winning. But yet there was more to be won, and a new front had to be opened. With that, difficult decisions needed to be made. He raised his voice slightly to call to one of his Lucky Twelve, the dozen who had been selected to survive their first foray back to the homeworld.

"Leung."

The young Vilantian swiveled through the crowd, his gold-flecked green eyes looking up. He hadn't been drinking too heavily, and had kept one hand on his dagger even as the joyous victory anthems played and the Hurdop women had petitioned him shamelessly for twenty-four minutes with the light gods.

"I am summoned my Lord."

"Leung, I have a tasking for you that begins with the dawn."

"I commence with the dawn, Lord."

"You've seen the postings?"

"I have seen many."

"The specific ones I refer to are the ones regarding the Terran Foreign Legion."

Leung's scent turned dark and angry - it was the prevailing scent when dealing with the topic of the Legion - any of them. "I have. They plaster their blasphemy all over. They...they are an unspeakable thing."

Itrop nodded. "They are all that and more. And you will join them."

Leung's fur shivered in surprise and then fear, his mug falling from nerveless fingers to shatter unnoticed. "How have I failed you, Lord? Please, send me not from your scent."

There was a gentle hand placed on Leung's shoulder. "Would that I could give such a charge to anyone who is not my most trusted. One whom if commanded to kill himself, would only ask if I wished their death to be rapid or slow. No, only you have the strength to walk into their den and bring back what is necessary."

There was a swallow. "What must I do?"

Itrop took a deep breath. "We know what they are. Brigands who came in with Terrans and made fools of several of the most loyal ministers Vilantia has ever known. Yet there is a personal strength to their 'Freelord'. Witness his actions against Greatlord Aa'Lafione. His actions in the Moncilat system. He has evolved beyond the commoner he was born as, and those who travel in his scent seem to be...evolving as well. You must become one of their ranks, a fish in their school. Always watching, always listening and learning their secrets. When the time is right, you will be freed to your true tasking - to stand by my side with a cup of victory's wine. Your Name will be returned, and we will honor Leung as one of our own. Until then, walk among them as Chapma. Spend a week with Bob and Harry becoming Chapma, his clan and history must be yours in order to deceive them properly. After that, we will see each other again when we have shown our world what right thinking and right actions truly are, beginning with the death of that bastard False Lord and all those who follow him."

Leung straightened. "I will do as you command."

"Excellent. Now, for your second command Leung - find a like-scented woman, bring her over. You have a task this evening; to find a worthy den for your child. A childless Lord has no-one to pass wisdom to, and his clan will be subsumed in short order."

Leung nodded rapidly, and shortly there were several women being tested - one of Commodore A'mungd's did match well enough with Leung that a child was all but guaranteed before Leung had to depart.

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

The dayroom had a scent of warmth to it; the children seemed to be taking a great interest in Jonesy as she surveyed them with intensity while Yomios' family clustered around her and U'wekrupp - their scent was mixed. While they were certainly pleased she had made friends, the unusual pairing resulted in a surprised and subtle scent that Gryzzk hesitated to name.

Gro'zel on the other hand was uncertain. she sidled up to her father slowly, giving her falcon small gentle head-strokes as it would occasionally stand and flap its wings to exercise a bit.

"Papa...they're so big. But they're children, right?"

"Mmmhm. They're like the Terrans."

"But the Terrans weren't as big."

"And yet you can jump up to the ceiling and stand on it. When they tried, their knees only came level with my chest at their best. They probably don't know about the dayroom games, perhaps you could show them?" Gryzzk leaned and nuzzled her gently, earning a slight noise from Millennium.

Gro'zel shushed the falcon gently, moving it to her hand. "Millennium - one lap." she then pitched her arm forward, almost launching her charge to flight as it beat its wings and sailed to fly out of the dayroom. She then raced over to the knot of children who were loitering at the jukebox to show them first how to operate it, then to the other features of the dayroom - soon enough the children had taken stock and were running as children do, being barely held by their teachers.

Rosie slowly glided into the dayroom, avoiding the children long enough to take station next to Gryzzk. "One of them is gonna fall and I'm not cleaning it up."

"Rosie you are far too negative. Look at them. They're...children being children. Let them."

The peaceful chaos was broken a bit as Pogrin approached Gryzzk. "Major Gryzzk? What are those?" The child pointed uncertainly toward the Legion Javelin and the soldier's cross memorial directly beneath it.

Gryzzk wasn't sure how to respond immediately. "Those are...reminders of war. Battles."

The room almost seemed to chill as the somber pronouncement was made along with the accompanying scent. There was a frown and a blink from the adults as they herded the children into a small semicircle. Gryzzk moved forward as it seemed that he wasn't going to be able to simply brush this off.

"This upper object is called the Legion's Javelin. We...during the war on my homeworld recently, I fought the former owner and it was claimed as a prize. Now it belongs to the company, placed here as a reminder that our...our trade is fighting, and that we must always be prepared to fight when the cause is proper."

There was a soft snort from Rosie. "The Freelord forgot to mention the part where he walked into a trap, sprang it, and got stabbed with it a couple-few times before pulling himself further along and giving his opponent a free shotgun round. Didn't kill 'im though, and that's the other thing. We don't kill unless we have to because that's what the bronzed-up helmet, rifle, tags, and boots with the spurs are about."

The room's tenor seemed to be mournful as Gryzzk gave Rosie a brief look of faint disappointment before continuing. "Yes. We...when there is fighting, battles, war - a wise Terran once told me there are rules about war. The first rule is that the young die. The second rule is that commanders can't change the first rule." He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the memories that were coming back unbidden, unwanted.

"This is for Cartre. He sacrificed himself so that the installation on Moncilat IV-B where we were - where you were held - would not self-destruct. On our homeworld, we hang a piece of the fur from our honored dead within the trees of their clan-grove so that we remember the scent of valor." Gryzzk smiled weakly. "However, on this ship we...lack proper trees for such a memorial. So we honor our fallen in the Terran fashion." He paused, taking a small handkerchief from his pocket to clear the corners of his eyes. "My apologies; this was supposed to be a happy occasion."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Yomios' father took a step forward. "You have allowed us to see our daughter for the first time in what seems an age, surrounded by those you and your company saved from captivity - the sweetest drink is made from mixed joy and sorrow, good major. We were aware, and prepared something for you. Now would seem a proper time to gift it."

Yomios and Miroka shared a look of uncertainty for a moment, before Yomios spoke. "Father...?"

What happened next was almost a choreographed dance as Pogrin moved first, taking out two small squares of what was without a doubt the finest cloth Gryzzk had ever seen - to call it silk would have been an insult. The cloth itself was a ruby color, dusted with pinprick sapphires and emeralds. Pogrin put one square in each of Gryzzk's hands before gliding sideways, after which each of the other children in turn took similar squares and nimbly sewed one together with a previous square, creating two sashes with fringed ends that were long and beautiful as each individual square blended with the next to create more colors than Gryzzk thought possible. As each child worked, Miroka moved to take a knee next to Gryzzk and explain.

"On Moncilat, in our earliest days we wove cloth netting to hide ourselves from the predators of the day and night. Over time, the netting became a tradition of each family, and we began to decorate them with symbols of our lives. Once the predators were no more, the weavers still worked at their tasks, and we began anew - when families joined, small pieces were woven together from each family tapestry to begin a new one that was part of the old but still its own unique beauty."

The scent of the room became mixed, as the children seemed to seek the approval of Gryzzk, who was a bit too surprised to do much more then nod and drink in the beauty in each of his hands.

Miroka knelt down next to Gryzzk, speaking softly. "With what happened, each of these families was joined to the company, and your clan. That is why there are two."

Gryzzk looked up to the adults, trying very hard to form words. "I...if it is permitted to be done without insult, Cartre's younger sister serves with the company - I would prefer her to have one of these. The other - for the company, will take a place of honor here where my fellows may view the true beauty that is Moncilat artwork." There was another weak smile. "And not to put too fine a point on it, but this company is my clan."

There was a soft chuckle from Yomios' mother. "It is right that the Eldest choose the place of the family tapestry, and if the sister of one who rendered highest service for those you scent before you serves as well, it is a kindness that she hold it."

Gryzzk's relief was palpable. "I will convey your gratitude to her and her clan from you and yours." He then paused for a moment to gather himself. "XO, advise engineering that we require two display settings to mount these treasures. Ensure that they are not encased - everyone should touch beauty like this."

To her credit, Rosie simply nodded on her way out. "Can do, Freelord."

Gryzzk smiled softly. "Rosie is fond of engineering in general, and our Chief Engineer in particular. She was going that way in any event as soon as our business here was concluded." He placed the two cloths on top of the foosball table to fold them neatly with a shaking reverence, and as he did so Jonesy leaped onto the table to first inspect and then lay upon them to the light snickers of the group.

"Our ship's cat approves. They will most certainly be treated with honor and respect." Gryzzk tapped his rank gently to whisper a command as he leaned in to nuzzle Jonesy. "XO, please send someone from engineering as soon as we leave to safeguard the gifts from the Moncilat in the event that Jonesy decides that these are toys and not bedding."

Gryzzk walked the group through the rest of the ship, letting Gro'zel do most of the talking as she mentioned less about what the section was for and more about what happened there - at the mess hall, Mama's curry was the high point. In medical she talked extensively about Kiole's prosthetic. Engineering was "The Important Place that we're not allowed to go to". It seemed to sate the curiosity of the children and adults, if their scents meant anything.

As they finally walked to the docking hatch, Gryzzk screwed up his own courage to ask Yomios' father a question. "If I may be so bold...what did you think of the ship?"

The older Moncilat looked around, casting his silvery eyes around. "It is certainly an aesthetic. It seems to adhere to the philosophy that the form of a space must be dictated by the function of the space. The hydroponics in the dining area speak to a preference for life, even if it is less then optimal - certainly a food printer could simulate to a near degree, but there is no substitute for tender care of life, even if that life's primary purpose is to season food."

There was a general wave at the ship itself. "The bold lines of the superstructure speak to a demand for durability, strength. I could smell a different ship's metal as we passed through the back-left area - it seems this ship has seen battle, but it seems repaired. The exterior is a similar thing - the only curves are where curves are necessary, such as within the shuttles and engines. It is not visually pleasing. But knowing what such aggressive design philosophy results in has brought us an appreciation for such things. Perhaps...we can learn from it."

"I will...endeavor to be a proper teacher." Gryzzk's fur flushed at the apparent praise.

"We await the lesson plan eagerly, Major." There was a bow and then the group left, leaving Gryzzk to feel relieved. At last he could take his own ease and curl up with Kiole's pillow while he watched football and tried something new. As he changed into a loose set of shorts and t-shirt, he felt a strange sense of calm over him - public interactions done and it seemed that the Moncilat were different, but there were enough common things that he could perhaps consult and make his own adjustments; as he mused over this it came to him that perhaps he could bring this tasking to the rest of the Legions.

He was through the first period and thoroughly enjoying it - for the first time in years, lowly Elsife Village United was tied with the perennial champions of the league from Throne City FC after a full period. Gryzzk absently considered the possibility that EVU's success was linked to the surprising promotion of their kitman Thanshel to assistant to their coach Edlass. He wasn't the only one, as the commentators pointed out how EVU had developed new patterns for attack and defense while Gryzzk discovered the madness of the triple fried egg chili chutney sandwich. Texture, wrong. Individual ingredients, wrong. Scent, so wrong he considered moving away from the plants in case the odor might cause them to wilt. Yet as he worked his way through it all, it became harmonious. A bit lifeless as far as taste, but one couldn't expect everything from Terran food.

The second period was about to start when the door chimed and Rosie breezed in. "Drop your cock and grab your socks, Freelord."

Gryzzk paused the game and started changing. "Status report."

"So, funny story - pretty much everyone went to Exquisite Jade City to check the town out and re-enact the naughty parts of the Kama Sutra in half a G. I mean it's a good idea, some of the things in there you could pull a muscle in a bad way if you're not careful. Anyway, seems the word got out about our collective bounties and some beer-league enforcers decided that now'd be a great time to catch a bunch of drunk Howlers and make some easy money. Just one teeeeeny problem."

"Which would be?" Gryzzk was halfway through dressing in his duty uniform, feeling a knot of concern form.

"That we can kick ass as well as hammer ass in low G. The bad news is that with everyone tapping their rank twice, we're down to about six folks on shore leave who didn't get arrested."

"I presume this means there's good news?" Gryzzk changed his mind, shifting from duty to formal uniform and moving hurriedly now.

"Well, Kiole's one of the six who -" Rosie paused. "Never mind, her and her squad just got picked up for beating the brakes off some clowns. According to the police report I just got sent seems like two different teams tried to jump her squad, turned into a three-way fight, and cops arrested everyone. The really bad news for the Terrans and Moncilat is that once we pay out for everyone, the bail fund is now dry along with about half the discretionary chocolate fund. They ah...apparently Moncilat furniture is beautiful but not sturdy. The part where you come in is that due to the extremely damaging and violent nature of what happened, the cops are only willing to release them into the care of their commanding officer. So. Coordinates are in the shuttles, Hoban and Miroka are pre-flighting while U'wekrupp and Yomios are using every inch of her quarters to make a mobile furball, and your exit window for an optimally aesthetic shuttle entry is in fifteen minutes."

Gryzzk sighed softly and hurried to the shuttle, where Hoban was grumbling darkly under his breath about prissy orbital controllers, whiny ground crews, and the overall sorry state of the world. Hoban's scent was one of crushed passion, and from what Gryzzk knew of Terran scent, it wasn't just the passion for flying like an unleashed general of the dead gods that had been crushed.

"Captain Hoban, think positively - you won't be fined for this."

"I was going to go down and get a collapsible tub for their quarters. She was gonna be making with the bathing, I was gonna be watching her bathe...ordering some pizza..."

"I had plans with my wife as well. Follow flight control directions exactly. There is no need to make a poor situation worse, and if both you and Miroka act accordingly I will ensure that you both have a rest day in R-space." Gryzzk was polite and civilized, but he was not above dangling a non-standard reward as a surety for good behavior.

The flight down was spectacular; Gryzzk had never seen what was essentially a forest world before. as they descended in a sedate and calm manner, Gryzzk marveled at all the green before him. He was more surprised to see an utterly huge tree canopy clamshell open and allow the shuttles to enter and glide further through the spaceport and to the landing pad for the station where his company was being held.

Gryzzk walked in through the entry arch to see behind him most of the company held in what appeared to be wooden-barred spheres suspended from the ceiling and anchored to the floor. For the most part there were either four Terrans or eight Vilantian/Hurdop per sphere, which made getting comfortable problematic. Most he recognized, but the ones he didn't were presumably the bounty hunters who had made poor life choices.

After introducing himself to the duty Peace Artisan Apprentice who seemed taken aback at his crisp and formal appearance almost to the point of fear, Gryzzk was escorted back to the holding cells. As his spurs rang out to signal his arrival the company quieted. He stopped and turned smartly as he came to O'Brien's cell, which she currently shared with Larion and Laroy.

"Sergeant Major, explain."

The entire company pointed toward the bounty hunters and exclaimed in a single voice.

"They started it!"