The golem I was polishing right now clearly had a sort of rift-born feline core, as it was actually purring as I cleaned up its ceramic composite. It was about up to my waist, and was a quadruped… four legs, a grasping and cutting mouth, claws of essence-enhanced depleted uranium that could tear through enhanced polycarbonates and most monster armor with ease, and a throaty growl when it… felt my discomfort with the approaching elf.
It wasn’t that Dienne-Lar was a bad guy. He wasn’t. He had courage in spades, and based on the team’s history, he was known for going right into the thick of things on rift assaults in a way most charlottes wouldn’t dare. His devotion to smashing the Chaos Lords was unquestioned, just like most of the people on the ship, and he had proven time and again his loyalty and valor in the furnace of real action.
But… I think I bugged him. I was always available, as a member of his team, he wasn’t my superior so there was no question of fraternization or insubordination, but I was that ugly girl that wasn’t charmed. He was clearly sort of self-absorbed, a polish-your-medals kind of guy, and I think my stubborn refusal to give in to his blandishments was a blow to his pride and a challenge he just couldn’t ignore.
“Hello Gabrielle,” he said, leaning against the composite white bulkhead of the maintenance room where I was accomplishing my job… It wasn’t that the golems NEEDED attendance, it’s just that their strange psyche responded much better when the user was familiar, trusted, and comfortable with them.
Again, it was irritating. I actually loved my middle name, I thought it was prettier than ‘Roisin’ or even ‘Rose’, and if it was someone like a certain battle-scarred warrior using it, I’d probably have purred like the golem. I would even have welcomed Commander Taer using it… despite her gruffness and constant striving to ‘win’ any social situation, I’d grown surprisingly comfortable with her presence, especially after she helped stabilize Dav...chief Warrant Wasserman. But Dienne-Lar was my contemporary, sometimes competition, and co-worker.
“Greetings, Petty Officer First Class Dienne-Lar. I am kind of busy with golem familiarization, but do you need something?”
He smiled, a secret smile that probably would have melted hearts if I hadn’t been me. Priceton would have probably been trying to drag him off, even though he was literally ten times her age and she wasn’t legal yet. Elves were created to be beautiful, based on the original Dryad genemod, and when you threw in the body of a physical affinity, there probably wouldn’t be a dry seat in the house, except mine. And maybe Taera’s… maybe. “Of course there is. I could think of a number of things I need, but alas, you are attracted to the fairer sex. I am helplessly enthralled by a woman who cannot even see me.”
I glared at him, “Ensign Williams can see you just fine, as can PFC Lucas, and that lovely Amazon guard you used almost the exact same line on last week, Sergeant Corellia.” He was clearly fishing for a denial, but I wasn’t in the mood. I hadn’t seen David since his problem was resolved, except for occasional salutes in the passageway and PT, where he and the troopers, like me, preferred to do their physical training in heavy gravity.
He’d sent a carefully-worded and rather cool letter of appreciation, an actual hardcopy instead of blitmail, as well as a commendation recommendation for ‘above and beyond’. I appreciated it, but the reality was that warrant officers were considered part of the commissioned group. They didn’t mix with us enlisted peons socially, and except for training with his troops and strategy sessions, the only chance I would ever get to see him was during ops, joint training, or if we invaded a rift or did a drop together.
Of course, if I were considered a behavior problem, he WAS ‘the boss’ of our combined division. If I had a complaint or got into trouble… No, no, no. That was NOT the sort of interaction I wanted. I wanted to get to know HIM, maybe find out if an eventual friendship could develop, find out his goals, hopes, and aspirations, and find out if he valued mine.
Based on his PT sessions, he was taking VERY well to his new essence-handling system, and watching his ‘trading pointers’ sessions with the troops was like watching a deadly dance. I knew he was powerful, but now that he was running on all cylinders every movement forced you to forget the scars and battle damage that he had. If it weren’t for the fact that it would put him forever beyond my reach, I would be cheering at the idea of him getting his gold core and being purified as a better physical form of himself, one I could appreciate even more.
Yeah, no. Things were simply not lining up. Better to focus on gaining my own ship and avoid bonding altogether. I was already a spiritual Journeyman, which was strong enough to resist all but forced bonding, and if I could get to adept or master someday, even forced bonding would be unlikely, not to mention deadly to almost anyone who tried. Some maenads gained the mental fortitude to avoid being bonded forever. They were looked up to as an example of overcoming our genetic weaknesses and the honorable if ultimately lonely evolution of our potential.
Bonded Maenads were stronger than unbonded, one of the few upsides of our weakness, but they only achieved Gold Core and beyond with their bonded partner… unbonded could achieve it on their own.
The elf clutched at his chest dramatically, “You wound me! Perhaps that wound could be healed if you were to allow me to do some sort of favor for you. Just before we leave, I have a shipment of both Gimdar cores and Ledian ganache truffles… if you would deign to share them with me, I might survive the injury…”
I sighed and shook my head, “First Class Petty Officer Dienne-Lar, If the ship retains a shipment of Gimdar Cores, I am almost certain you won’t have exclusive rights to them, it will be based on the needs of conflict. And unfortunately, I could never accept Ledian ganache truffles, I am violently allergic to chocolate, and I doubt you’d appreciate my lunch on your shoes.”
He looked serious, a surprisingly better look than the indolent women’s novel cover he’d been affecting before. “May I ask you a serious question?”
I nodded, “Of course,” as I carefully started lubricating the golem’s joints. They might not use motors or even anything more complicated than, in this case, a set of clockwork springs to assist movement and attack power, but with golems, it was all about speed, not power. Speed of movement, speed of attack, speed of recovery. EVERY golem was monstrously strong, but only the fastest were true threats to most fighters… and monsters.
“Look, I get that you might be upset that I didn’t pay attention to you before your… Chrysalis, but to be fair, I didn’t even realize you were female. And I don’t believe for one second you are only interested in women, I saw how glued you were to Wasserman in the loading bay, like you wanted to eat him for dessert. You have truly blossomed since then, and I am honestly interested, but you are cold, you never unbend professionally or even use my nickname or callsign, and I don’t understand.”
“Is it because I am an elf? I know there’s been some bad blood between breeds in the past, especially if you are half-goblin like Braxis says. I don’t hold to that whole lower races philosophy crap, since anyone can ascend, it’s just supremacist crap. Or is there someone else? I don’t mean to offend or come across as a homewrecker, I just… want to know.”
I sighed. “Honestly, you should have tried leveling with me in the first place. The whole ‘I am too gorgeous to be ignored’ flirting act creeps me out, because every time I’ve seen it played out, it’s always a predator. I don’t mean to be cold, but it might be easier to think of me like the XO. My breed is attracted to auras, not bodies, compatible and reinforcing affinities. Sorcery and Spiritualism are incompatible like oil and water, and my hormones know it. To me, you are about as exciting as one of my drones.”
I sighed, “It’s not meant as an insult, I mean, obviously you are beautiful, but it’s like a painting or a piece of beautiful music. You can enjoy it, but you wouldn’t want to try to get all physical with it.”
He chuckled, “Is this the part where you give me the ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ speech?”
I shook my head, “It’s not really me either. It’s the whole genemod thing. I would like to be friends with you, but to do that, you have to stop treating me like a girl you are interested in. I almost wish I hadn’t matured, things were a lot simpler. As much as we might wish otherwise, we are simply incompatible.”
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Okay, that speech was not exactly true, but not exactly a lie either. His aura WAS incompatible, and unless a bond was forced, I just had no interest… at least compared to others.
He nodded a little, “I take it your… uhh… gremlins, don’t just do it for fun?”
I glared at him, “Petty Officer First Class Dienne-Lar. I am a good, god-fearing church girl, and a virgin. I will NOT just have fun without being married first, and I don’t play the loophole game either. Even without ascension, I will live almost as long as you will, and my species lifemates…. I will NOT have it ruined by casual ‘fun’ that could potentially wreck the rest of my life and family.”
He was holding up his hands and backing away a little, “Oh… I honestly didn’t realize that your breed was lifemates. Forget I asked, uhh… I am not ready to become a lifemate myself. I’m only 150 years old, just old enough to join up.”
Huh, the whole lifemate thing seemed to mess with him. Was it some kind of cultural tradition? If you hook up with a lifemate you are obligated to them? Especially if you can’t just hang around until they die of old age… he looked almost terrified for a moment before his customary semi-arrogant confidence reestablished itself.
I was tempted to press him by being flirtatious myself, but that probably would have been a little cruel, and he’d likely see through it.
I smiled slightly, “I am allergic to chocolate, though. I think it was modded in intentionally. My world has elves too, they call themselves charlottes, after the place they were first modded, but every once in a while we had a weirdness, since elves LOVE chocolate and sometimes they just don’t… get… that what they consider works of art are poisonous to someone else.”
He snorted, “Yeah, I know our kind… well… the elders live a really long time, and sometimes forget that not everyone is elven. They tend to kind of… get offensive about what they consider the shortcomings of shorter-lived races. Me, I love them. They are more… in the moment, they live harder, faster lives, and do everything with an energy and excitement I can’t help but love. Especially the girls. I mean, a girl can fall in love, go crazy in bed, have huge reams of drama, fall out and back into love two or three times, become worst enemies, turn into best friends, and then move on with their life in like… months.”
“With your chrysalis, and how quickly you went from something that looks like a goblin to someone that looks like… that, I thought you were even quicker than that, but I apologize for my misjudgment.”
“Someone that looks like that?” I asked.
He nodded and motioned with his hands, “Yes. You went from looking like a humanoid frog to looking like a princess faster than the old legends like you were kissed by a prince. I’d never heard of a gremlin before, I thought it was like a goblin that turned into a sexy woman overnight. A mayfly.”
I sighed and shrugged, “You don’t have to pretend. I know full well what I look like, but I do appreciate the compliment. And in answer to your previous question, yes, there’s someone I resonate with, but it’s not going to happen.”
“The warrant officer? Lord, he’s like a wrecked hoverbus. Err… sorry, no offense, but the two of you… it boggles the imagination.”
I snorted, the conversation turning in a more familiar direction. Lighthearted insults were pretty much part and parcel of being in the military. “I get it, now your mind can’t unsee it. Just imagine me naked on top of him, licking from scar to scar, my ears like floppy handlebars as...”
“No! Crap. You are a vicious woman. Are you going to lifemate with him? He’s a baseline, I think, or a low-mod. That could cause some problems in the long run, but elves have done it before.”
I shook my head, “Of course not. I mean, there’s a bunch of reasons. Our rank, for example.”
He sat down cross-legged as I sent the golem back to its bay, and called out a slightly smaller model. “That’s not impossible. I mean, sure you are not even copper yet, but with our schedule, base metals pass REALLY quickly. I came in as a tin, and the only reason I am only a high copper was that we kept running into high-tech rifts and had to pull in for a refit after a bad run only three months after I got on board. If we’d stayed out? I’d probably already be Orichalcum myself, and once you are both past condensation and into foundation, there are almost no problems. It’s only full mortals and foundations that have problems, but you already said you can live as long as an elf.”
I shook my head, “Not that kind of rank. Military rank.”
“Oh, because of the whole fraternization thing?” he grinned. “This is the Valkyries. The rules are different here.”
I looked at him warily. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Look, it’s like this. The rules exist for two reasons. The first one is to keep a senior from taking advantage of a junior. That crap happens all the time in fleet, laws or no laws. We have the rules, but what they mean in practice is that the junior kinda has to be the aggressor. They HAVE to be, or you could screw over the senior for abusing their power.”
“The second reason is that fleet advancement is based on commendation, not merit. Some Valkyries are like that, but most of them are just civilian ships that host delvers. Hell, we are practically in that category ourselves. But our XO is a taer. Advancement is based exclusively on merit and her recommendation, and the Captain’s. We have a tiny crew, barely two hundred people, and once you start fighting side-by-side in rifts, little things like rank don’t matter anymore.”
He looked around, “In a place like this, where we are interacting with the fleet all the time? We have to play the game, but once we are underway, the wardroom closes up. Troopers, officers, enlisted, we are all warriors. The only one that stands above and beyond is the Captain, but that’s because she is basically god underway, and might have to make the hard choices. So making close friends with people you might have to sacrifice would kill her. That’s why you probably won’t meet her in person unless you scrot up and get sent to mast since we don’t stand bridge watches.”
He grinned, “Do you really think I restrict myself to exclusively girls my own rank, who don’t work in my division? For a whole year at a time? Yikes! As long as we keep the drama to a minimum, things tend to work out, and having an empath as an XO keeps things on an even keel. There are a couple of women I avoid specifically because Commander Taera told me it would end badly, but with you, she just laughed and told me to give it my best shot.”
“She has an open-door policy, and she’s serious about it. When bad things happen, when friends die in rifts, when your heart breaks, she is there, and bad things WILL happen. The reason we had to refit was because a wailer caught us by surprise. She tore up half the crew, killed and drained twelve, including the uhh… two droners you replaced, a couple. The wailer got one, the other one killed herself because they were a lifebond pair too, wolfkin. It also got both the flight lieutenant and primary drop officer, but Braxis is hot shit and refused a commission, so they decided to turn the officer work over to whoever replaced the lieutenant.”
I was paying attention, this was good information that they hadn’t covered in school or training because that was pure fleet. But my attention was still on the first thing he said, “So we are allowed to be social with the troopers?”
He nodded, “You had better be! Look. We are a light drone carrier, our offense, our defense, and even our ability to run away is based entirely on the eight of us, the droners, and our advancement. That means ANY time we hit a rift, they push us on the drop teams! We are kind of the elite in space, the sword and the shield and the armor and the feet. Heck, after that gremlin in the engines stunt, you are probably more the feet than the rest of us.”
“You need to make friends with them, all of them. Ask them stupid questions, work out with them if you can, ask to see their family photos, and snuggle up with them if they’ll let you. They are the ones in the rifts that are elite, like we are in space. They are what stands between us, and rift monsters eating our guts. You want them to LOVE you. Literally, figuratively, whatever. If they decide we die in a rift, we are done. It’s probably best to wait until we are underway to declare your undying love to your boyfriend, but even if it flops, you better be friends with him, your life depends on it!”
“Just remember that when we are playing with the fleet, we need to act fleet. I am Dienne, but when we are in drydock around workers, or when we have fleet onboard, I am Petty officer first class Dienne-Lar. Princess is Midshipman Princeton or Miss Princeton, and Taera is Commander Taera or Executive Officer Taera. The rest of the time? If you don’t want to get personal, you use their call signs or nicknames if they have them, although the Captain is always the Captain or Captain Timur.”
Huh. Not only did I have the chance to get to know what the warrant officer was really like and find out what his goals, hopes, and mission were, but I was actually obligated to do so. But not while we were working out. I had enough trouble keeping my mind straight while he was in uniform. All that bare chest and sweat would make conversations a lot more difficult.