[Humans for Hire] - Part 162

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Terran Mercenary Ship Twilight Rose, Enlisted Quarters

Llensi was having a busy day - several days, if she was being honest with herself. The other end of her line was asking for more information on a priority basis, so under cover of a live thread on the Elsife United/West Melosy game, she sent several messages detailing incidents on the ship. The events were accurate, but at the same time she'd extended the truth lightly to give the impression that discipline was fracturing. O'Brien was described as a harsh taskmaster when she wasn't busy imbibing, and she reported that Gryzzk himself carried the scent of a neurotic with self-destructive tendencies. The rest of the bridge squad was similarly embellished, using just enough truth to make the lies believable.

In between this, she'd discovered her fur flying a bit freer than it had been. After the grand speech and subsequent full-fledged fight between those aligned with the nobles and the ones aligned with the Legion, she'd sent a revision of sorts - Gryzzk was still a mess, but he seemed to thrive when faced with a direct challenge or threat. This she didn't have to embellish much, as there was ample evidence already present with more being created even as she wrote. After the speech to Parliament, the entire battalion was keyed up and energetic - herself included. This feeling led to her lounging in a state of comfortable warmth in her bunk with all the privacy locks and screens engaged, resting her head on the nape of Orile's shoulder. She moved her head slightly to nuzzle him before speaking.

"Our squad said we wouldn't have any fun today. The fools. Shame we don't have more time, I could lay here all day like this. But I have a new question."

Orile carried the scent of pleasant exhaustion as he roused himself. "Ask away."

"Where exactly are my small-clothes? And yours, while we're at it."

There was a blink as her lover looked around worriedly. "Oh, uh...there, I think?" A bit of a cramped scramble ensued, with the items in question being discovered flung carelessly about. Llensi retrieved her underthings and put them back on as Orile looked on with a light scent of regret before resuming his own search for a moment.

"Do we have to...already?" Orile traced over Llensi's clan-marking on her shoulder with a lingering gentle fingertip, which sent a light thrill of sorts through her.

There was a soft backhand to his chest by way of reply. "We do." She flipped Carinda's hammock over, causing Orile's boxers to fall to the mattress. She snagged them with a small amount of glee. "But I'm keeping these."

His eyes widened. "But. But I need those. I, without. They'll notice."

She smirked. "So what if they do? Tell them that you spent a lovely hour or more being a most considerate guest in the house of Llensi and after we spent a great deal of time agreeing with each other you left a generous gift." She cast her eyes downward lightly. "Unless that would be dishonest?"

Orile waved his hands quickly as he dressed awkwardly within the space. "No, no, I...I was. I had a lovely time. Wonderful."He leaned forward for another nuzzle. "Perhaps Captain Gregg-Adams will allow us a more relaxed schedule..."

There was a soft snort as Llensi tapped the hammock. "We need to have some consideration for my roommate, lover. Unless..." And ear flicked questioningly.

Her bed partner's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh. Ah...no, no. That, I...I wouldn't. That would be a." Orile stammered softly. "There is a process for such things."

Llensi's eyes sparkled. "Perhaps we should ask her about her feelings regarding this process you speak of."

"Ah. No. That would be - I would not want to impose." Orile slid the privacy screen back to find himself looking at the rest of Llensi's roommates who were all clapping politely as he scooted out as hurriedly as dignity allowed.

Llensi smirked and moved to the shower, answering the unasked question with the air of someone who wasn't quite in full control of their faculties. "Epic. Simply...epic. I licked it and it's mine. Find a member of his clan for yourselves, ladies."

She got into the shower and her thoughts began racing as she cursed herself. It wasn't that Orile was disagreeable or unskilled at the true favorite sport of their worlds - far from it. But this dalliance complicated things greatly. To make things worse, her moment of weakness had resulted in a profound shift of sorts. Even now, her mind wandered to the unthinkable as she cleaned her fur. She couldn't simply break it off on her original timetable. As much as she was to admit it, she wasn't fond of the idea of breaking it off. She'd seen many expressions on Orile's face, and some of them made her - made her content.

As she took a breath, her mind began a war of sorts. Her duty demanded that she be as unattached as possible, because emotional attachments were a weak spot. She was going to have to do something. Someone else was going to have to.

She shook off her fur and dried, heading back to her bunk with a light posture as she prepared for the rest of the day. Carinda was in her hammock and while she wasn't pouting, there was a mild anticipation.

"Details. Share."

"All in good time. I have to check the stores inventory." Llensi smirked as she lit up her tablet and looked things over, searching for a specific message before saying anything further. "It was nice."

Carinda snorted. "Nice she says. I have a nose, and there is no perfume that covers that. Save the sidestepping for the Terrans."

"It was very nice."

"Mmmhm. Some of us are dying of thirst while you drink from the deepest wells. Learning to read better be worth it." Carinda grumbled softly as she began her next lesson.

Llensi glanced up and made sure Carinda wasn't watching as she quickly composed a message; it was disguised as a rather blunt victory dance over West Melosy City - especially since she'd actually won several hundred credits. The message was simple and quick: 'Spousal assignment required.' Once that was done, she sighed softly.

She'd done this a few times in the past when someone became too close. She wouldn't need to break up with Orile if someone else did it for her - but it didn't make her feel better.

___________

Terran Mercenary Ship Twilight Rose, medbay

Gryzzk blinked his eyes open and checked his tablet groggily. A few hours had passed, but he was still terribly thirsty. The scent of Kiole and Fizeht was still there, but faint. As soon as he tried to move, Xenodoc Cottle arrived.

"You're here for two more hours. Don't argue, I will strap you down if you try to move. Kiole can move with minimal pain, so she was discharged to your quarters -" Cottle turned slightly to speak to a holo-pickup "-where she'll stay if she knows what's good for her!"

"But the ship..."

"Can manage just fine. You can in run the ship from here. What you can't do is walk. You're here for a couple more hours at least and then we'll test you out. In the meantime, I'm sure Rosie'll keep you up to date."

There was a soft cackle from his tablet. Gryzzk glanced at it with a sigh.

"Report, XO."

"Fines are paid, and there's a line of folks who'd like to remind you that despite your back-of-the-house deals, improvised amputation is frowned upon in Parliament."

"The nobles started it."

There was a snort. "You fuckin' chirped 'em like Reg Dunlop. Don't stand there and tell me they were supposed to just nod and smile while you dragged your balls over their faces, you walked in there lookin' for some old-time hockey and you got it. Now because you woke up and chose violence this morning we're being held by Orbital Control until tomorrow morning - they're assessing fines and whatnot on top of refusing us shore leave. Side note, every Minister on Vilantia wants a chunk of your ass on a platter. I told most of them to kick rocks, but Larine is piss-drunk-mad and Aa'Criar dictated a novel explaining what she would do with every single hair on your body if you pull something like that again. The only bright spot is that Orbital Palace is still taking our credits."

"First order of business, modify the intoxication standard. Three-drink limit, on-ship drinking is permitted in the dayroom only. Advise Orbital Palace taverns that they are requested to not over-serve. Do the ministers all wish to talk to me at the same time?"

"Hell no - Larine got dibs. Mainly because she decided to pre-game a bit with her breakfast."

"Put her through, and ask the good doctor to interrupt if the vitals demand it."

The holo resolved to show the Minister of Culture with her head on her desk and a partially-full bottle of Kifab's rum was standing on her desk next to a large pitcher of juice. Next to the libations sat a large container of boneless hot wings bearing an unfamiliar logo. From the tablet Gryzzk caught the scent of anxiety and unhappiness. Gryzzk cleared his throat.

"Minister, Freelord Gryzzk speaks with you as you requested."

The Minister didn't move her head, speaking with a muffled voice. "Do you hate Vilantia? Or is it just me? "

"I'm afraid I do not follow the trail you lead."

Larine lifted her head and ticked off on her fingers as she recounted. "Brawling in Victory Park. The business preceding the match. And now today. These are just the items you are directly involved in. Three days your clan has been in orbit of the homeworld, and every day something crosses my desk or is brought to my attention concerning your Freeclan. To be frank a great deal of it is unwarranted, but there are reports that are not." She paused to refill her glass with juice and rum, then taking a rather generous sip from the rum bottle itself before returning her attention to Gryzzk. "The only true positive is that you didn't take Aa'Fahwil's sword as your own - an act countered by several messages I have received from Lords and Greatlords indicating their Clan weapons have gone missing, and they are requesting guidance. So. Placate the nobles."

"Does the minister have a suggestion?"

"The Freelord does not wish to hear my suggestion. You made this den, lay in it."

"I remind the minister that neither of us are in complete control of our faculties." Gryzzk paused and considered through the fog of painkillers and discomfort. "Well, as a group you could first levy a fine equal to our income for this trip - we should not profit from our misbehavior. As for myself, I suppose some sort of remand to the Twenty-First Greatclan, suspended with a promise of proper behavior for a season?"

"I will define proper behavior."

"Acceptable, Minister."

"It should very well be. If you so much as fart loudly in public I will personally shave your fur with a spork!" Larine blew her fur out of her upper eyes. "There will be more. I require your nose to begin making determinations with respect to marriage."

"Minister, that is not a tradition I can enforce among the entirety of the Freeclan."

Larine waved her hand. "I am well aware. However, there are many noble clans who believe that the Freeclans can be corrected from within. Given the current state, I am inclined to agree that a level of discipline is needed. To that end, you will report to me with respect to the status of all Legion ships in order to have the Vilantians among them properly tested."

"The logistics of this may prove difficult."

"Freelord, do not make me invoke the Genetic Legacy Preservation Act." Larine pointed at the pickup. "Kindly aid two worlds in their desire to bring populations to a stable level."

There really wasn't an answer for that, so Gryzzk nodded. "I will to the best of my ability, Minister."

"See that you do." The channel closed without any normal pleasantries.

Gryzzk leaned back heavily and groaned softly. Rosie's form popped out of the holo with a light smile.

"Well, now that you're on notice, you ready for the second half?"

There was a light frown and sigh. "I have to use the latrine."

"You got a bedpan, get at it."

"I can move."

"You owe me fifty if you can't. I let Doc know you fall on your ass."

"Done." Gryzzk undid the straps and checked his leg. It felt normal enough, but the trip to the bathroom was one of the more exhausting things he'd done of late.

Rosie almost giggled as Gryzzk poked his head out to see if the coast was clear, only to be met by one flexing Sergeant Nelas as well as Xenodoc Cottle.

There was a polite cough. "I was, ah. Ah, going to see if there was any water."

"Uhhh-huh." Cottle pointed. "Back in bed. Now, Major."

Gryzzk sighed softly and prepared for round two.

Minister Aa'Criar was thankfully in better condition than Larine, but not by much - whatever liquid fortitude she'd imbibed in preparation was well-hidden. "Freelord. I was watching your speech, and something occurred to me."

"What would that be, Minister?"

"There appears to be a shameful lack of communication that may be responsible for some of the noble clans deciding that wisdom is to have you and your clans brought to their service."

"It could be something of a regret."

"Indeed. The common Vilantian knows only that you arrive every so often, make a noble look the fool, and then depart without so much as a by-your-leave."

Gryzzk frowned. "I don't recall making any noble look foolish on my wedding day."

"Ah. So not every time. Merely three out of every four - I'm sure the noble clans appreciate your restraint." The Minister of Communication made a soft chuff. "However, this is an oversight that can and will be corrected. You are familiar with Lodora, and likewise Lodora is familiar with you. I have proposed through our ambassadors to Terra and Hurdop that there be a series created that highlights what you are creating - The Terran Ambassador agreed, stating that there are already Terran press elements at New Casablanca who are quite eager to have another set of interviews with your clan and the battalion at large. The Hurdop Ambassador is cautious, but willing to send a representative for the sake of balance."

Gryzzk groaned softly. "I...may not be able to attend all of them."

"Nor should you. Initially of course, you and your family - I'm given to understand that there are six children in your family now. Such a thing would sing to the Vilantian heart. They see you, wives and children, and scent something to be admired." There was a pause and a softening of sorts. "You are bringing great things to us, but you need to be cautious. You are going to bring sorrow and even civil war if you continue this path. Already there are stirrings."

Gryzzk blinked. "Minister...?"

"I am the Minister of Communication. It is my job to know. So. Kindly find someone who knows a proper level of behavior with the press and take lessons eagerly."

"You are not chastising me."

"Minister Larine is recording further chastisement for your viewing pleasure later." There was a light smirk. "She admires you and the manner in which you handled the Lafione situation, but her admiration is tempered with the conservative nobles howling in her ear daily about what a disreputable influence you are and begging her to take charge as her predecessor did. So - help her and help me to help you and your clans to thrive."

Realistically, there wasn't much he could say. "Well, with that you say...I would prefer that we learn more. However, I would prefer details at a later time, as I believe the doctor has arrived with news."

"Of course. Please, listen to your doctor."

Gryzzk nodded. "Of course." Gryzzk then looked at Xenodoc Cottle as she parted the curtain with a sigh.

"At this point, you are technically healthy enough to walk - with assistance. Provided you use it, and keep the medpack on your leg until tomorrow." Cottle handed Gryzzk a cane that looked like it had been carved from wood, but felt much lighter. Atop it was a three dimensional replica of the swiping bear that had become the unofficial logo of the ship.

"Not that I'm feeling disagreeable, but why?"

"Because there is a crowd outside, and my medbay is not a goddamn social club. She pointed. "Shorts are over there, then get the hell out of here."

Gryzzk dressed and began gingerly walking with the cane out of the medbay. The doctor was not wrong - there were a few dozen cheering troopers and their families waiting for him. He limped and smiled a little.

"Please. I’m healing and as you can see I'm able to walk, so please - clear the area for medical issues. We're staying in orbit for a day. Pass the word along - we're not going to be sending shuttles to the surface for shore leave, but we will be docking with the Orbital Palace. Conduct yourselves well, please. Apparently there are rumors that we are a rolling storm of amorous drunken barbarians. We can prove the rumors true another time."

The crowd dispersed slowly, as each individual nearby came up for a quick touch or nuzzle before Gryzzk was able to limp his way to the bridge, where he was able to settle into his command chair.

"Corporal Yomios, advise Orbital Palace we'll be docking shortly. Corporal Miroka set course for Orbital Palace. Minimal fuel expenditure."

After Yomios sent the appropriate messages, she turned toward the command chair, her face set firmly. "Major, could I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

Gryzzk flicked an ear curiously, but his train of thought was sent sideways by his stomach rumbling. "Of course. If you don't mind talking in the conference room while I have a snack."

"By all means." The Moncilat stood, squaring her Stetson on her head as she moved with the scent of purpose. Gryzzk followed after levering himself upright and limping to the conference room, where he ordered a chicken salad sandwich and some tea from the printer.

Once the door closed, Yomios set her hat on the table and darkened the windows as she paced, seemingly uncertain about how to begin.

"Sir...not too long ago, you said there was something about me that led me to poor decisions. I must respectfully put the same statement to you. We've been analyzing your duels, and every time you give your opponent an opening when you don't have to. It is only great fortune that you have not been more severely harmed." Yomios sat down, her eyes full of fear and steel. "You can't keep doing this, sir. Even if you think it's right that you suffer for your actions, I don't believe it's the right thing. Whatever punishment you think you deserve, it is not this." Yomios finally sat down and took a hold of Gryzzk's free hand. "Some day, we will speak for the final time and in all likelihood we will not know that day when it arrives. I would still prefer that day be many years in the future and not today, or tomorrow, or the next time one of your nobles thinks their honor has been besmirched and demands satisfaction. Please." Her eyes softened with moisture, her voice turning to a soft plea. "Think of your family - think of us - when you make these choices that you make." She cleared her throat, wanting to say more but not trusting her voice.

Gryzzk felt a mild shock at the words, looking down at his half-eaten sandwich. "I. Corporal." He paused, trying to force clarity into his words, and not finding any. "Well. The. What you say has a scent of truth to it. I'm afraid I can only promise to try. Thank you. If there's nothing else, I would...like a few moments to contemplate."

Yomios nodded, hurrying out of the conference room. For his part, Gryzzk took a breath and thought of everything that had transpired. The Throne was going to make their opinion known. His wives. Even Lumisca. On top of all that, he was all but certain there was an Irish-accented tongue-lashing awaiting him in R-space while he looked over the particulars of their next job. Still, his mind kept wandering back to what Yomios had said, and there was a voice that was telling him that she was right.

His thoughts were broken by a chime and Rosie's voice over the comm. "Alright titfucker, you've had your two minutes in the box. You got someone anxious as hell to get their face in front of you. On top of that, he paid extra for a spot on this ship."

The conference room door opened, revealing a somehow familiar scent along with a sturdy-looking youth. Gryzzk cocked his head slightly and tried to focus as he spoke.

"Apologies - I feel I should know your name, but it escapes me at the moment."

There was a mirthless smile. "We have not met. I am Indel, second son of Greatlord Aa'Fahwil. Earlier today you said the Legions are hiring." A sheaf of papers was produced and set on the conference table. "Here is my resume and references."