082 Little Piggies_Dead Star Dockyards

After a few minutes of discussion between the women and organizing them into three groups, there was a knock on the kitchen door.

"May I enter?"

Donovan moved swiftly to the door, eager to welcome his guest. Hopefully the tool he had requested had been finished in time.

"Captain!" Donovan thrust a hand forward for a handshake. "I hope I haven't asked too much of you, I understand its very early in the morning."

"Think nothing of it. I am personally quite interested in what you are planning, you won't mind if I stay and watch will you?"

"Go right ahead, just try to stay out of the way. I need to instill some discipline in them and deteriorate any remaining feelings of superiority they may have, so I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt me. Was my crop finished in time?"

"Yes, though the tailor was unsure of exactly what you wanted. He made a few variations." The Captain removed a long, thin box from his bag and handed it to Don. "As for your other request, I managed to get a few of my crew to wake up at this early hour and head over. They are waiting outside."

"Good. Have them come inside so I can share my plans with them. Would you mind singling out the ones with the loudest and deepest voices? They are going to be the ones giving them instructions on their way down."

"Certainly. Also, I should mention that the Scholar has tagged along. Should I tell him off?"

"Not if he doesn't want to go. In fact, there might be something he can do for me."

- - - - -

Donovan checked his tablet from his spot in the dimly lit courtyard. The clock read 0100, and he could see the ever present cloud of red dots above him. The fact that stars weren't white was still quite strange to him.

"Scholar, now's the time."

"Yes, uh, sir. Just a second."

Donovan watched as the Scholar concentrated his split around his throat. Titanyana covered her ears. Following this, an ear splitting cry emerged from the Scholar's throat. It didn't last very long, a second at most, but it had done its job.

Donovan picked up on the sound of rattling cookware and screaming men from three different directions. No doubt, three different men were being rudely awoken and dragged down to face him.

"What did you say this was called again Sir Strauss?" The Scholar had taken a moment to catch his breath. He wasn't exactly the type to raise his voice, but he was the only person Don had at his disposal that could use split to raise his voice.

"It's called hazing. Personally I frown upon it, but I don't have much of a choice if I want to make the most of my time. Right now, the point is to break them down. For today at least, I need to break their illusions of dignity, control, and superiority. I need to make it clear that the way I do things is not the way they are used to. They need to be exhausted, confused, and afraid for the best effect."

"Would," the Scholar was quite pensive at the moment, "would it not be more efficient to have them train while fully rested though?"

"It would be, but that is not the purpose of this exercise." The sounds of discombobulated cadets came from one of the doorways. "Let's put this conversation on hold, I have a job to do."

- - - - -

Donovan was pacing in front of three shivering bodies. Wall, Sanna, and Len were lined up, stripped down to their underpants, and surrounded by the crew of the Oberlux. They weren't standing at attention, but that wasn't an issue. Right now, they weren't soldiers.

"I've been thinking about what to call you lot." After a few tense minutes of silence, Donovan finally spoke up. "I ruminated on calling you 'ladies' for a while, but most women don't deserve to be treated like this. Instead, I have decided to make this your very first lesson on English. Repeat after me, and don't use split, I will be able to tell. Ready? Pig."

He was met with confusion.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you're all mutes? I said repeat after me. Pig."

"P-geh?" Len was the first to respond. Perhaps it was due to his naïve curiosity, but he didn't even try to deceive Donovan.

"Not bad for your first try. Try to annunciate the 'i' a bit more, like this, pig."

"Piig."

"Better, but the 'i' should be a bit shorter. Once more now, pig."

"Pig."

Donovan applauded. "Very good! Now, the rest of you, pig."

"Pig." "Big." "Pihg."

"Mmmm, close enough for now. You'll get it eventually." Donovan sighed, this was going to be tough for someone not trained in teaching. "I suppose it might be a good idea to tell you what a pig is. Pigs, that's how more than one pig are referred to, are a four legged hooved mammals with a penchant for rolling about in mud and grime. They eat just about anything, up to and including their own kin, and are delicious when cooked in a variety of ways. Pigs are dirty, smelly, and are believed to be dumber than a pile of rocks. While I can't say much about how smart you are, but you certainly seem dirty and smelly right now. As such, I have decided to call you pigs."

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Indignation appeared on Sanna's face at this.

"However, I am a stickler for cleanliness. I absolutely cannot tolerate this level of stench in my home. Gentlemen, please give these swine a bath."

At this remark, three barrels of ice-cold water were poured over the heads of the already shivering piggies. From the synchronicity of the action, one would think it was a practiced motion.

"Well, the smell isn't entirely gone, but I suppose its passable." His devilish grin could only barely be seen in the night time light. "Oh? What's this? You little piggies are shivering? Are you cold? Are you tired? That just won't do now will it?" Donovan feigned distress. "Let's go for a run! That aught to warm you lot up! Alright now, get running."

Donovan clasped his hands behind his back, preparing to take hold of his special training tool. Judging by the shock and confusion on their faces, he was going to have to use it.

"Why aren't you running? GET ON IT!" With a sudden increase in aggression Donovan stepped forward, riding crop in hand. They collectively recoiled, but still didn't move. The crop whistled as it made its way towards Wall's thigh. "RUN!"

- - - - -

Len was incredibly grateful to Titanyana for her advice to eat. Len was also incredibly afraid of her at the moment. He had been rudely awoken only hours after he had gotten to sleep, dragged out to the courtyard, and told he was livestock. After this he was drenched in water, beaten with a stick (?) and forced to run, for miles, without using split to assist him . . .

"Keep it moving piggies!"

. . . and yet Donovan was keeping up with them just fine. Here they were, dragging themselves along by the threat of the whip, while their leader nonchalantly jogged behind them, riding crop in hand. Even if they wanted to fight back, Titanyana was waiting off to the side with her hand on the hilt of her sword.

She had helped him, but now she was acting in her capacity as an enforcer. Needless to say his opinion of her had soured somewhat.

"Keep those feet moving! You know what happens when they stop!"

Len heard the crop slap Sanna neatly on the ass. He knew it was Sanna before he even yelped, he was the one who was falling behind. They had taken turns, sort of, losing energy and falling to the rear. Only once they were separated by some distance were they reinvigorated by Donovan's touch. If he didn't want to be tenderized, Len had to keep moving.

- - - - -