“By Urla, why do I care?” Conor groaned, leaning back in the chair and looking away from Vuraley and the presentation he had been forcing down his throat for the last half hour.
Most of what the Kurlatra man had been explaining was about the Kurlatra culture, briefing him on the city and other details about what to expect when they arrived at the GU border.
Most of it, Conor had completely tuned out. Why did he care about the gods of Kurlatra and the extensive history of the ancient city where the royal palace had been built? He especially did not care about what was supposed to happen at the GU checkpoint. The high champion had assured Conor he would not have to do anything for the event, so he planned to fade into the background and not be spotted.
The only thing Vuraley seemed to not want to cover was exactly why Eivaley and him almost fucking was wrong. He still insisted that his daughter needed to broach that topic.
He was interested in why getting his rocks off was a bad thing. Who cared if they fucked? It wasn’t like it would have been more than a good time for the two. And Vuraley’s demeanor certainly showed that it did not involve Eivaley being his daughter. It seemed like that was the case, at least.
The other thing Conor cared about was what he was meant to do as an assigned champion. At least the tight-lipped lizard was willing to explain that to him. As an assigned champion, Conor was charged with Eivaley's safety and was to assist her with tasks from the empress.
However, Conor's primary role is to shield Eivaley from sororicide until Eivaley becomes a champion of her own.
Apparently, in Kurlatra culture, the inheritor of the role of the empress was always the first princess. Because of this, any of the daughters lower on the totem pole would regularly kill those higher to move up in the ranking.
The part about their odd succession ritual that Conor could not wrap his head around was that it was perfectly acceptable. Growing up in the gutter, Conor never had much of a family, but he had always assumed you should support one another, keep each other safe from threats, and not have to look over your shoulder for a knife or check your food for poison.
Urla knew he and Brakul had done that for one another plenty of times while growing up. Would these people not want to do the same?
At least, according to Vuraley, Eivaley did not seem to show interest in the practice and simply ignored its existence entirely or openly hated it. A behavior that made her exceptionally popular with her family and the local populace,
While Conor had not been able to speak to her to confirm this, he certainly planned on watching everything like a hawk, detailing the claims' legitimacy and shielding her from any threat.
Conor had already almost died for Eivaley in several ways, not to include what might as well have been a failed suicide attempt, and was not about to let something as stupid as a jealous sister put all his hard work to waste. They would fucking rot in Urla’s dark pits before he would let that happen.
Conor had yet to let the feelings of Brakul and Stitch’s death boil to the surface, but he had been a bit more snippy than usual since his friend's death. He tried to keep things prompt if the conversation was not vital or helpful to him.
“You know it is refreshing to have someone who does not care about my role in society,” Vuraley replied, turning around from the projected screen and ignoring Conor griping yet again.
“That’s not what I asked,” Conor rolled his eyes.
“Yes, but you would not have heard me out as you have over the last week,” Vuraley pointed at Conor and the two men he had assigned to trail Conor from the shadows and failed. “Levitus knows I told you to leave people alone, yet here they are.”
Vuraley was unsure if he would punish the duo for failing so severely; they both had life coils on their necks and ladies at home. The last thing he needed to do was to condemn their families to that strife.
As it stands now, if he chose to reprimand them, it could not be too severe. Something simple like cleaning latrines for a month or a slight pay cut would do. He could also assign them under Conor if the Human officially becomes the fourth champion.
It had been a week since Conor had woken up on Vuraleys ship. Since then, most of his time was spent with that oddly skittish doctor, eating, sleeping, or avoiding the stares of the crew and the pair of guards that tailed him while traveling around the ship.
The two likely thought Conor had no idea they were there until he had waited around a blind corner and confronted them. For their credit, they did not seem too shocked at the massive Human a breath away at the time.
Vitul and Cur'sh, the two guards, lounged in another pair of chairs nearby. After being caught, they had given up on subterfuge, seeing no point in doing anything other than hanging out with who they saw as another soldier. Their black uniforms were disheveled, and they were stuffing their faces with snacks.
These two were, without a doubt, marvels of the Kurlatra royal guard. How a pair of slackers like them managed to pass the grueling physical and mental examination to be on this ship was beyond him–but he did confirm they indeed did pass.
But they were not Vuraley's concern or reason for losing sleep. No, that blessing befell Conor, who was disappointingly acting much like them.
To put it lightly, Conor's adaptation to being an assigned champion was not going well. While yes, he could fight and keep Eivaley safe, that was evident in their few sparing matches, as well as his time on the shooting range. That still only slightly made overlooking the man's lack of social grace palatable.
The idea of Conor as he was interacting with the royals of the Kurlatra or even meeting his wife, Fureli, was horrifying. Vuraley could already picture the Human insulting long-standing allies, being an unruly animal around his wife, or even just killing someone who so much as insulted his daughter.
While he could forgive the killing or hurting people, a Champion was expected to defend their lady's honor. He might just go a few rounds with the Human in sparing to even things out if Fureli was insulted by his reckless nature.
The thing that Vuraley wondered about as Conor stole a bag of chips from the guards next to him was. How Conor would affect the tentative relationship and politics that had been forming in the palace the last few years was anyone's guess.
Eivaley was undoubtedly the most popular princess, especially in the public eye, because of her drastic departure from the norm of potential empresses' expected behavior.
Unlike her sisters, who were utterly stuck up, self-centered, and dreaming of climbing the ladder for the spot at empress, Eivaley was softer, more caring, and generally looked outside of the palace and royalty for validation and interactions.
Vuraley had no idea that his little girl's initial curiosities about how the common man lived would have led her to run more outreach and charity programs than the rest of her 16 surviving sisters combined. Nor could he have foreseen most of the Kurlatra race desiring her to be the next empress.
With recent political developments involving the GU and many people of the Kurlatra desiring to fully integrate into the GU and no longer be a satellite state, the common man has almost begun to see Eivaley as the potential empress who would see that future made true.
It's too bad for all of them. Eivaley seemed more keen on keeping her head down and only wanting to work on her projects or spend time with her sisters and their champions. Perhaps something had changed. Vitus knew Vuraley hoped not; he had buried enough of his daughters and sons over the years.
For now, neither the ghosts of the past nor the questions of what his daughter was thinking were relevant. Conor was not going to listen to anything else Vuraley said. Their classes lasted at most half an hour to an hour before boredom overtook the Human, and he started wasting time with the two failed guards.
Glancing down at his watch, Vuraley noted that less than an hour had passed since the royal fleet reached the GU border, and they would all have to go through customs.
Conor was officially on their rosters as a member of the royal guard and would have a certain amount of diplomatic immunity, but the response from the Customs officer regarding that they had a Human that Earth had no record of was concerning. According to the Captain, they seemed almost angry about learning about the odd Human they had onboard.
“Well, it is fine for now. Come on, we all have to go get ready for the customs officers,” Vuraley informed the trio, shutting off the projector and straightening out his gilded armor.
Apparently, the three were far more alike than Vuraley had initially thought. The moment he told them this, all three groaned, complained, and asked if they had to get out of it. Their similarities were something even they noticed. They shared a glance, laughed, and went to get their gear.
—
The expansive hanger was filled to the brim with fighter and transport aircraft, each sleek and designed for speed. While Conor had seen many species' different take on space to surface craft, these were unique beasts.
They were slender, long, and covered in paint as black as the starless sky. Without the weapons racks on the ground near the fighters or the opened panels of the transports, it would be difficult to determine if they were ready to fly.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of the ship's crew, soldiers, and their families were in rows running from one end of the hanger bay to the other. Each had their equipment and personal items laid out in front of them, displayed clearly so each item could be seen at a glance.
While the Kurlatra waited, they messed around on their datapads, talked to one another about unimportant topics, and the families excitedly planned their long-awaited return home. They had been away from their homes for almost two months. That time was filled with work, travel, and the recent developments on Heavalun.
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Conor keyed into those voices mixed in with the cacophony filling the voluminous space as he passed them and moved toward the back of the hanger, next to where Vuraley, the captain, and other high-ranking members of the ship were. Hearing them made him almost gag. What was wrong with these people? They were talking about going out visiting brothers, aunts, cousins, and sisters like it was a grand and fun event. It all made no sense.
The sisters were trying to kill one another. Why would any of them ever feel safe around one another? Conor was already trying to plan how to fit Eivaley with his own Nanoflax armor and teach her to shoot a gun. At least then, she could hopefully defend herself if he was separated from her.
The other thing that annoyed him as he passed by was the side-eye glances the Kurlatra kept giving him. Because he was a Human, a good chunk of them did not trust him. They would constantly whisper behind his back, speaking about how he tricked Eivaley or was a gutter rat looking for a come-up. Even the Doctor he saw every day and her assistant whispered behind his back.
Fuck them. They knew nothing about what Brakul, Stitch, or himself gave up to survive on Heavalun. If Vuraley had not already told him not to kill or fight random crewmates after he fed one of his teeth three days ago, he would still be beating them into a paste when they talked shit about him—-or dared to insult Eivaley for wanting him around.
“How much longer?” Conor sighed, dropping his gear between Vitul and Cur’sh, who Vuraley had decided needed to be here.
“Not too much longer, Fifth Champion,” Cur’sh replied while unzipping his bag and removing its contents.
“Hey now, he is not the Champion yet,” Vitul chuckled, elbowing Conor's flank. “He and Miss Eivaley still have not sealed that deal.”
Conor rolled his eyes and went back to unpacking his own gear. Over the last week, he had heard that exact line from plenty of the crew. They made it clear Conor was not a Champion; he was just a stop-gap mercenary and outsider who did not understand their way of life or deserve someone like the fifth princess.
At the bare minimum, their teasing let Conor piece together a bit about what his and Eivaley having sex would mean. It was some kind of ceremony or rite of passage. But he still had no idea what it had to do with the coils on their necks or how it would affect Eivaley. He would ask her later.
“I don’t get why we have to do all of this,” Conor complained, gesturing at the hanger bay as a whole. “Why don’t we jump straight through or avoid them by slinging around a non-pop system?”
“The GU just wants to make sure nothing illegal comes through, or if it's regulated, they have documentation of it. Have you never gone through a customs checkpoint before?” Cur’sh said, looking confused at Conor, likely thinking back to the stories the three of them had shared about when Conor had traveled to systems away from Heavalon.
“Never the legal way,” Conor shrugged, earning him a chuckle from his two guards.
They did not need Conor to elaborate any further. They all understood that meant he either smuggled past checkpoints, bribed officers to look away, or, on occasion, shot his way through.
“Well, this will be a great chance for you to learn how things are properly done,” Vuraley laughed, stepping closer, having abandoned his conversation with the ship's captain and his mates.
“Yeah, sure,” Conor replied, unloading the last of his guns and laying them out on the ground. “I doubt they will be thrilled to learn I am here. I have kinda done gigs on their side of the border.”
Conor had conducted operations within the GU several times. They were messy, brutal snatch-and-grabs or assassination missions. While he had attempted to be subtle and use tech to conceal his identity, most of the GU was such an overbearing surveillance state that he doubted his identity was unknown.
It was incredibly likely that the INPIC(Interplanetary Investigation Core) had a substantial force on the lookout for him. That would be especially true because Conor dusted one of the GU council members after they refused to pay for working in Heavalun.
Vuraley patted Conor's shoulder and looked at the crowd of soldiers. He held his tongue about how Conor had pieced together the GU’s lack of thrill for an unrelated reason to what he knew, but the man still wanted to assure the Human. “Don’t worry about that I have already worked that out.”
Conor had no idea what that meant, but he had seen enough of the privileges of those with money and influence that Vuraley's ability to get him off the hook or shield him from the INPIC was a surprise.
Not long before, the Captain's voice boomed and drew everyone's attention in an instant. His roar of command demanded that they wait next to their equipment as the GU customs officials arrived and were about to start their inspections.
Following his announcement, the Kurlatra fell silent and watched as he and Vuraley went to the far side of the hanger and unlocked the airlock to the sub-hanger, where arriving ships could land safely. As the large bay doors parted, Conor got a good look at the group working this section of Customs.
A group of almost a dozen Humans stood in a semicircle, with a young-looking blonde woman front and center. They all wore simple grey and black uniforms and carried small satchels on their hips. Overall, they looked about as official as possible.
That they were all Humans was a curiosity to Conor. He had never seen another Human, so almost a dozen of them in one place was a bit of an eye-raiser.
The blonde stepped from the group and began speaking to both the Captain and the First Champion as though they were beneath her. Conor raised an eyebrow when the two impressive Kurlatra men lowered their heads, nodded along, and made no arguments as the rest of the humans shoved their way past them and began to work down the rows of waiting troopers. The two could easily crush the puny Human; why in Urla's name were they taking her guff? Was she essential or something beyond just being a customs official?
Each of the other customs officers was prompt, clean, and commanding, performing their duties with the attentiveness of an individual diffusing a live bomb. They carefully inspected each person's belongings and checked them against the provided rosters.
Following that, they used small hand-held echo scanners to ensure nothing was hidden inside each of the items or nestled inside any of the Kurlatra. Echo scanners were a piece of tech Conor tended to avoid. They were incredibly accurate and did work for what they needed to do. The GU even had some large enough to scan entire ships all at once.
Conor simply did not like them because they interfered with some of the more sensitive tech in his body. Whenever he was hit by one of those scanners, it felt like insects crawled under his skin. While it was not lethal and always passed, he still was not a fan.
As Conor watched the officers slowly work their way up the rows, Vuraley and the Captain worked their way back with the odd little blonde and another Human male in tow.
As they neared, the woman's blue eyes keenly scanned him, like she was judging a marvel that should not be. “So this is him?” she said, popping out a hip and gesturing at Conor.
“Do you see any other Humans?” Vuraley rolled his eyes while the Captain and the other Human went and checked the rest of the ship's lead entourage equipment.
“No, but you telling me you have a Human within your royal entourage was odd enough. Then, him being a special case beyond that was something else.” She continued picking apart Conor's every detail with a keen eye. “That and looking at him and his gear that did not cover anything about what he truly was.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Conor growled, not liking the near hiss at the end of her words.
While Conor might genetically be a Human, he was raised by a Jurintik, and his habit of growling, baring his teeth, and being overly aggressive had been built into his mind. The alien-like behavior was something she clearly was not ready for.
She paused, swallowed her spit, and stepped back slightly. “Well, it just seems you are more metal than man. Where are you from?”
Conor activated his thermal vision and assessed the odd little woman. She appeared unarmed and unprepared to fight him if she was a part of INPIC. There was no sign of any weapon on her, just the steady warmth of her blood pumping with frantic heartbeats. But that did not mean she was not a cyborg like him. She could have something concealed beneath her skin.
“Heavalun,” Conor replied, keeping his metal hand open, ready to lash out at her.
“No, no, no. Not where you all are coming from, like where on Earth are you from, and how did you end up?” She started but almost scowled, then gestured up and down and Conor. “Like this.”
“I mean just that, I am from Heavalun. Born, raised, and repaired,” Conor replied,
“So you have never been to Earth?” She questioned, looking toward Vuraley as if he would clarify.
“Never have, and I’m not interested in going,” Conor sighed, not enjoying this conversation.
Conor had spoken to other aliens plenty of times over the years. Explaining repeatedly that he felt no loyalty to Humanity, or most aliens at all for that matter, was tiresome. “Urla does more for me than other Humans ever have.”
That earned Conor a deep scowl. Undoubtedly, this woman likely had drank the Kool-Aid that the GU had been selling Humanity for the last few hundred years and their other species for countless millennia before that. Rely on us, and we will provide all you need. But that grace was limited, and Conor just played his hand by invoking Urla.
While Urla was a god spread throughout the Galaxy, worship of her was an indicator of someone born and raised in the COS. The GU had more of a subtle meld of religion or a healthy respect for the idea of live and let live, so long as your faith and culture fit within their narrow existence.
You can just ask Aviex how the GU treats the culture of those who do not fit neatly within their narrow mold of what it means to be a good galactic neighbor—if you can find any of them left alive.
Not letting the woman have a chance to respond, Conor crouched and gestured at all of his weapons. “Can we get this inspection over with? I have other shit to do.”
Conor didn’t want to talk to this human about where he was from, or what he had done in the past. Namely, because she was a Customs official, but the way she looked at him just pissed Conor off.
She wasn’t looking at Conor like a person or someone with whom she shared any kinship. The way her eyes plucked at his arm and metal jaw, it was like she was trying to take them apart in her head.
Apparently, Vuraley and the other Kurlatra found Conor’s lack of empathy for the Human entertaining because anyone within earshot either chuckled or glanced in his direction to watch the show.
“There is no need,” The blonde said, looking down at Conor's gear. “Everything you have in and around you is approved under the dividends given to the Royal Courtier of the Kurlatra.”
“A what?” Conor asked, not knowing that word.
She rolled her eyes and gestured up and down at the row Kurlatra Conor was a part of. So were his guards, the Captain and his, as well as Vuraley and his attendant. “None of you are being inspected because of your station.”
“Fuck yeah,” Vitul exclaimed, slapping hands with Cur’sh before the two of them started weaseling their gear away.
Vuraley growled at the pair of guards, quickly silencing their revelry, reminding them that they were not having everything searched because Conor had caught them.
“So, is there anything else you want?” Conor asked, starting to pack up his own gear. “Or are you genuinely just wasting my time?”
“I just wanted to see if you were real and if you would possibly wish to rejoin Humanities' embrace,” the woman sighed. “It is only fitting that I offer it to you at least.”
“I would rather give a zlit-rat a rim job than go anywhere with you,” Conor sneered, causing even Vuraley to snort and try to hold in a laugh.
Without a doubt, this lady had no good intentions with Conor. The GU would remove his wiring, force him into a dull life, and, worse of all, keep him from making money how he sees fit.
He fully expects that life will be his death, but that is all he deserves at this point. Playing along with Vuraley and the Kurlatra was just the most straightforward way he saw to meet his end on his terms, and he might be able to have a bit more fun with Eivaley before then.
“So be it,” she sighed before walking off toward the other Human near the Captain. “But do reach out if you change your mind.”
At least she took that on the chin and decided not to do anything else when it came to making Conor's life more difficult. If she felt like it, she likely could have, but with Vuraley and his apparent immunity, that might not be the case.
“Are you certain about not taking her offer?” Vuraley asked, watching the woman gather her coworkers and head back toward the airlock.
“Yeah, Humanity has never done anything for me,” Conor replied. “The whole species can fall into Urla’s dark fields for all I care.”
Vuraley was silent momentarily, looking out over the bay, pondering something. Whatever it was, Conor could not quite pick up. The older Kurlatra was quite stoic, so there could be a million things.
“Just keep in mind some people need to be allied with, even if you don’t like them,” Vuraley said, seemingly to no one.
“What?” Conor asked, barely able to hear him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vuraley shook his head before wandering off.
“Either of you have any idea what that was about?” Conor asked, picking up his bag and looking toward Cur’sh and Vitul.
Both looked at each other for an answer and then back at Conor before shrugging. “No clue.”