Humans for Hire

Homeplate, Construction Zone

After O'Brien left, Reilly looked around at the quiet group. The silence stretched for a bit before she spoke.

"Alright my lovely band of nuggets, get at it. We need these spaces cleared and prepped for furnishing, chop-chop. You wanna stand around and pick dust out of your fur, go join those disorganized grabasstic pirlafti bastards in Echo Company. Buncha damn goldbricks over there and I'd like to think we're better than that, but I may be wrong."

As they went to work, there was conversation in the moments of respite. Chapma moved a container of rock onto a grav-cart, taking a deep breath and feeling a bit annoyed that this job seemed to starting in a very haphazard fashion. He glanced over at the cart-runner, noting that he adhered to the Vilantian tradition of sleeves and began the conversation that was at this point almost traditional after glancing at the name-tape over their chest.

"Hey - Orile, where you from brother?"

There was a slight shrug. "Vilantia Prime, Throne City. You?"

"Born in Elsife Village, but my clan was part of the garrison." The words sounded foreign to his ears, even though Chapma remembered his youth clearly. Most of it anyway. "How'd you get here?"

Orile seemed almost embarrassed. "I was to be a Cultural Witness. It, it did not go well. It was hinted that I would never advance beyond a most junior position and that my clan was the only reason that I would retain that. I met the Freelord due to an, an event. It felt like following him would have merit, and my older siblings - they encouraged me to find my own path."

Chapma nodded. "I was on a ship during the Terran War - we made a blind jump and came out in the Draconis system." Chapma held for a moment. "I do not believe our course was entirely random. During the trip, discipline fractured and I and my wife found ourselves off the ship with no honor and a babe in her den. Draconis, for all the things it has, does not have the facilities for proper child-rearing."

There was silence while they contemplated this reality, with Chapma loading bins of debris for Orile to haul away on his grav-cart. They both glanced around again before continuing.

"Where you going to be when this is done?"

"Supply and Logistics."

"Me too - the, the aptitude tests seemed to think I'd fit there." Orile seemed almost eager to talk now that there was some manner of connection.

There was a pause again before Chapma lowered his voice. "How does the, the Purple Sergeant - Reilly? - how does she know Vilantian? She even got the cadence right." It was a delicate reference to Reilly's earlier use of the epithet for a spouse who's only duty within the relationship was to prepare the other spouses for intimacy.

Orile shook his head. "I only know rumors, and they are many. The most popular one is -"

A low whisper interrupted them, causing them both to flinch back in shock as Reilly had slipped behind them unnoticed. "You nuggets want to know the truth? I'm genetically modified to have the ability to breed viably with your species. I had to learn Vilantian as a child. It's called Project Fuck The Stupid Out Of Them - but they didn't tell me until I was eighteen." Reilly let the words hang for a moment. "Now if you don't mind getting your asses in gear we got shit to do, we don't get paid overtime here, and I would like to go home tonight and fuck the hell out of my wife and our boyfriend. Keep going the way you're going and it's gonna be an angry night tonight and I will tell them both that it's your fault. Drop, twenty-four, recover and then move with a goddamn purpose."

The two swallowed and began their push-ups.

___________

Terran Mercenary Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk settled for a moment, checking the time while his hand felt under his chair. There was in fact a conveniently accessible stunner under his chair. He took a breath and tapped on his tablet.

"XO, report to conference room in your own time please."

Rosie's reply was immediate and crisp. "Yes Freelord Major."

There was a slight eyebrow lift as Rosie closed the channel. "What got into her?"

"Presumably she received a lecture from the Chief in addition to the punishment I laid out last night. Which means it may be a few days before she returns to normal."

Rosie's arrival was accompanied with the aura of discipline and embarrassment. She had formed a crisp standard-duty uniform for her clothes, which seemed highly out of place. "Freelord, XO Rosie reporting for orders." She canted her head slightly toward O'Brien. "Sergeant Major."

O'Brien shook her head. "Respectfully XO, something about that is downright unsettling."

Gryzzk tapped the table three times. "We can belay the discussion for the moment. Rosie, dial up refreshments for Captain Venlid and First Sergeant Jirloed and upon their arrival please escort them here. If they were smart enough to bring their Chief Engineer, direct them to Tucker's domain, please."

There was a nod from the XO. "Yes Freelord." The printer began to work, producing a carafe of coffee and two mugs in short order as Rosie left.

Gryzzk set the coffee and attendant extras on the table and settled as the two came in with Rosie and sat down slowly in their chairs - it seemed that the word of the day was wary, as the two glanced at each other and settled on opposite sides of the table. O'Brien flicked her eyes once at Jirloed, then to Gryzzk and finally Venlid. The meaning was clear as Gryzzk parked himself in his chair before he spoke.

"Well, first - thank you both for your time. We have things to discuss, and first among them - I've received word that your...records that were submitted with your Legion were incomplete - and fuller version has been under my nose. So, before we get to the business of your ship, we should attend to a more...personal affairs." Gryzzk looked down and detached his oak-leaf insignia from his uniform and tossed it to the side counter casually. "I know that I have indirectly caused you both great personal sorrow, and I feel it appropriate that we should address it - otherwise the scent will hang in the air until it poisons us all at the worst possible opportunity. Say what you wish in this moment."

The two of them looked down at their mugs for a very long time with only their lower eye-pairs, keeping the other two moving for any sign of aggression from either Gryzzk or O'Brien. Venlid spoke first, toying with her cup. "How do we know you won't fire us? How do we trust that you won't take fatal offense to our thoughts?"

O'Brien replied quietly. "Respectfully Captain, there's been more than a few times that I've had to say things to that fellah he didn't like to hear. As you can see, I'm still on payroll with all my stripes."

Jirloed hmph'ed softly. "I dunno about you Cap'n but I can always go back to aggressive cargo retrieval." He glanced at Gryzzk. "Plainly speaking, Freelord - you are damned easy to hate. You start a Lead Servant - not a noble but someone who can tell a noble what to do. Then shockingly, your Lord turns on your scent. You don't go into hiding, you flip that to advantage. Then you help shame your homeworld; you don't look like someone that's got a moral compass. After that, you and Bravo take on seventy-plus ships, not outgunned but sure as space is black you're outnumbered and you win. My old clan's never gonna recover. Lost our clanmark, our way, our dignity. I've spent the last four days going to bed and just...dreaming about punching you right in your perfect teeth. Got signed on with Venlid, found out she was in the same boat, and we hit New Casablanca and found some things we both liked."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Jirloed ran a finger around the rim of his mug before sipping at the acrid coffee and continuing. "Then you said what you said. Like you meant it; we're not yours, we're ours and...well, right now there's enough good direction that I think you're on the path to being a proper Hurdop Freelord. Maybe someday I'll take your scent and I won't react with wanting to jump you and strip your fur from skin with a dull knife." He shrugged at Gryzzk, his scent slightly embarrassed. "Just not today, Freelord. If that gets me a ticket out of here, so be it."

Gryzzk flicked an eyepair to Venlid who nodded agreement with her junior as she recounted things with as little emotion as possible. "I saw your ship firing, I'd ordered evasive turns. Then I woke in a hospital bed, to see my husband and wife. My heart soared, and for a few moments all was right with their scent. The only thing they said was that they were going to the Ministry of Culture to leave offerings to the gods and praise their fortune that I am not with child. I did not react well, and that reaction was compounded with your, your recent demonstration." She bit at her lips in turn, uncertain how to continue. "Then I spoke with Freelord Rostin. He's persuasive. This is not where I expected to be, but it is where I am." She gestured at her First Sergeant. "He is a good petty officer - a good sergeant. For the moment, we'd like to focus on the future because the now is tense."

Gryzzk tapped his fingers against the table for a time, feeling the weariness seeping in and threatening to take the helm. "My directives in this are simple. Profitability. I'll do everything I can to make that happen. With that, let's look at your ship design. I'd prefer we remake the structure in order to have consistency within the company - the Warfreighter design is solid and operationally flexible, but the corsair structure of the Stalwart Rose allows for a larger number of emplacements..."

The initial meeting began in earnest as a holographic display lit up, showing the two general shapes with items being debated at length before the Cerberus Rose began to take shape with elements of both ship classes being present. Gryzzk made several suggestions - the engineers were going to want to cut the design down as much as possible, so he made sure the design was extravagant. Eventually the design was completed and given initial approval. Gryzzk took a breath and leaned back in his chair.

"Now then, let's get some opinions." Gryzzk gave the two a slight grin as he tapped send. "Annnd, three...two...one."

As if it were cued, his rank chirruped softly from its place on the side counter, and Rosie's voice came through. "Freelord Major, Chiefs Tucker and Torres would like to have a word - four words, actually."

A pair of voices came over the communicator. "Major, what the shit?!"

"Is there a problem, Chiefs?" Gryzzk's voice was as innocent as he could make it in the circumstances.

"Three decks, two separate powerplants. Four weapons emplacements set at fore, aft, and midships - twelve total, each one having paired railgun and plasma mounts. That's in addition to the new argon ballistic shielding and the energy shielding. And that's on top of everything we're going to have to do to make gravity workable for the entire complement. While you're asking for the impossible, do you want spinning rims on the shuttle landing gear, fur on the consoles? Hell, while we're at it everyone gets a blowjob and a puppy."

"No Chief; we do have a standard of dignity to adhere to."

"Fuzzy dice on the helm. We'll do 'em up in red."

Torres' voice came in next. "Look sir, I know this is wishlist stuff right now - but it's a lot. We could cut the weapons emplacements to three at each section and still have full coverage, make plans for a refit after a few jobs if we actually need four."

Gryzzk glanced at Venlid and Jirloed, who nodded. "Agreed - are there any other concerns?"

"The timeframe. We're gonna have to borrow some people to do some of the fine detail work."

"Have Rosie and Stewart analyze and pull from the new hires. And prepare for more of this in the next few days, we have three more ships that will require overhauling before we're done."

"Are we paying overtime?"

"No but we are paying out bonuses if all of the ships are done in the allotted time. Chiefs, I suggest less talking and more doing."

"Good plan." Tucker's voice faded as he seemed to be addressing a larger group. "Alright, we're engineers which means three things. We hate sleep, we love coffee, and we get to do the impossible on the regular..."

Venlid stood, glancing at O'Brien for a moment before returning to Gryzzk. "It sounds as if we will have a ship soon. We'll begin going over personnel assignments, and...searching for a cat." There was a pause before Venlid spoke again. "With respect to personnel, I am given to understand that your daughters serve on the ship as well. Is it permitted to have other children within the company?"

Gryzzk nodded. "We do allow children to serve as morale officers, with the approval of their guardian."

Venlid's response seemed odd, like she'd finally allowed herself a genuine emotion. "We will respect this gift, Ma...Freelord."

"See that you do. Dismissed. And...thank you for your time."

The two left, and Gryzzk sank into his chair. "Sergeant Major, tell me it's lunchtime."

"It is. But after lunch, Captain Waniul's going to be bringing her First Sergeant for your approval."

Rosie added in helpfully, "She is speaking with Corporal Kiole now. First Sergeant Motoko is treating this as a highly formal affair."

"Define?"

"You'll see, Freelord..." It seemed as though Rosie was slowly recovering her personality.

Gryzzk pocketed his rank and tried to take a fast lunch but it seemed as though the mess hall was a busy place - the new hires were making use of the available everything, with the end result being a very long line for chow, but it seemed that the cooks were reveling making large amounts of everything. Free tables were almost nonexistent and the conversation was loud. It felt alive in a good way.

He walked on auto-pilot to his usual booth and simply nodded to his tablemates, both of whom were dust-covered and quiet as they were almost finished. He blinked a few times at a vaguely familiar scent.

"Orile?"

Orile nodded quickly, smiling weakly. "Yes Freelord. I will be in Supply once training is completed, along with Chapma." He gestured to their other tablemate. Chapma didn't seem inclined to talk, but there seemed to be a momentary flash of anger that was gone and replaced with determined resignation.

Gryzzk wasn't exactly surprised - it seemed as though there were more than a few individuals under his command with a grudge that they were working to get past. "Congratulations to both of you. Just never make the mistake of thinking what you do is unimportant. As much as the glory of fighting goes to the armory and infantry, without a supply section doing their job, combat platoons'll be fighting with two sticks and rock. And they'd have to share the rock."

There were light smiles and chuckles at the joke - though Gryzzk wasn't sure if it was actually funny or if it was a carryover that a Lord's jokes were always funny. With that in mind, Gryzzk mostly kept his conversation to himself, eating far more rapidly than his two tablemates - it seemed like eating quickly was a function of being on the ship. After excusing himself, he moved back to the conference room for his afternoon meeting; a hopefully less-controversial discussion with Waniul about her personnel and ship needs.

He straightened his uniform as he walked into the conference room, still musing about the morning meeting as well as the lunch conversation. O'Brien was still there, running upon some unknown fuel.

He quickly looked over the agenda, frowning. "XO, we do not appear to have a personnel file for First Sergeant Motoko."

"Captain Waniul sends her regrets that she wasn't able to select her First Sergeant in time for it to be added. Working on it now." Gryzzk watched as a file appeared and data flowed across his tablet - she seemed to have an impressive service record with the Terran Self-Defense Fleet, however she was recently retired and thus new to mercenary services. "Impressive record."

"You'll love her fashion sense, Freelord." Rosie smirked a bit.

As Waniul and Motoko entered, Gryzzk noticed two things immediately. First, Motoko was the shortest Terran adult he'd ever seen, rising to a height just a touch higher than Gryzzk. Second, her choice of clothing at this time was - both formal and not. It resembled ministerial robes on the surface, but there was a wide embroidered belt covering most of her torso. The main color was purple with a design of red and gold flowers woven into the pattern, and her hair had a great deal of flowered accents adding splashes of contrast to her black hair. Motoko kept her eyes low and seemed calm as she bowed deeply.

"Captain Waniul, I presume an explanation is forthcoming?"

Motoko spoke in a soft voice. "Freelord Major. I was advised by the captain that you are a nobleman on your homeworld, and I wished to respect that."

"I see. Well, it does appear to carry a certain dignity to it - I will be asking questions later, if the opportunity arises." Gryzzk mentally strode past the newest Terran oddity to settle in his chair. "Now then, let's talk about the immediate needs of the Twilight Hurdop and her company, beginning with a full refit..."