Off to the side of Martinez, Nelya and Lysa sat sipping some kind of mushroom tea. The Human initially had no idea what the mushroom was, but after a short search on the data net for its name and chemical composition, he screened that information against what was safe for him to consume.

So he agreed to also partake in the sharp, gray tea.

Nelya noticed his initial hesitation and search, allowing Martinez to explain how his dear friend Ezol was hurt by some food he had given him. Since then, anytime he bought or ate new food, he looked it up.

Martinez did the same thing for Lysa when introducing her to anything Humanity created, but she never saw that part.

Nelya understood his hesitance and expressed some appreciation for his care of Lysa, even though she thought it was unnecessary because most species know the chemicals and types of food they cannot eat.

However, Humans were relatively new to the broader Universe, so needing to research was understandable for him.

After they ate lunch and had a few cups of tea, Martinez volunteered to take their plates to the kitchen and refill the tea kettle, not wanting to interrupt the giggling duo's relaxation.

It was an incredible sight for Martinez; Lysa seemed nervous and frantic before the trip and when Kyroll first appeared. But now that Nelya kept his Ruh'ah’s mind occupied, she seemed far more expressive—acting more like the confident, proud, vampiric woman he loved.

A part of the Corpsman hoped that the trip would not sour. Maybe Nelya’s plan would work out; it was so far.

As he washed the extra sauce off the plates and put the kettle on the stove, Lysa and Nelya giggling was joined by the sounds from the basement growing louder. Glancing over his shoulder, Martinez tracked the men exiting the stairs and proceeding toward the living room.

The rough men did not even spare the Human a glance, not that he minded. Their staying apart was likely for the best.

The men spoke in Aveix once in the other room and assumed it must have been them saying their goodbyes; the rough group of flannel-clad men seemed fond of Nelya and likely were keeping her informed of the goings on in her house.

After Martinez finished drying off the plates and putting them away, a hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump out of his skin. He whipped around and backed away from whoever just managed to sneak up on him.

How in all the universe did they manage to do that?

Martinez had been paying keen attention to all the noises from the living room; no, not just there, the whole house since Kyroll returned. He even heard the men speaking Aviex in the basement the entire time he ate with Nelya and Lysa.

No one should have been able to sneak up on him.

Standing behind Martinez, holding his hands up, was the burly Aveix man from downstairs. His red eyes glowed with concern, and his lips were barely visible through his thick charcoal-black beard.

Martinez remembered his name was Grula since Nelya had introduced them less than an hour ago.

“Whoa there, killer. Chill out,” Grula horsily chuckled, lowering his hands now that Martinez had realized who he was. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“You could have fooled me,” Martinez replied, lowering his fists and allowing his heart rate to do the same.

Grula, for his part, waited patiently for the Human to calm down entirely, having trudged through his fair share of the fires of combat and likewise hated being snuck up on.

Still, unlike Martinez, his time as a machine gunner in the Aviex army was years ago, with the Human's experiences in far more recent memory.

The former Aviex special forces member knew that because he quietly asked Lysa while the rest of his former squad was in the living room.

“Bud, come on; follow me,” Grula said calmly, speaking in a slow, strange tempo and stepping away from Martinez toward the door.

Martinez paused and looked over the man's back, scanning him for any weapons beyond the pistol he wore proudly.

Grula noted Martinez’s hesitance, turned half about and smirked. “You can take my gun if it means you come.”

Without missing a beat, Grula pulled his gun from his plastic holster and twirled it to offer Martinez the grip, an offer the Human had never expected.

That was a dangerous gamble from Grula’s point of view. Not because he believed Martinez would intentionally fight him, but no one recently out of combat liked it when someone pulled any weapon.

“What?” Martinez said, quizzically, not understanding Grula’s angle here.

“It’s just for a chat,” Grula replied, shaking the pistol grip. “Take it.”

Martinez took the gun and checked the chamber for brass like he had been taught to do over the years.

It was loaded, but that was no shock; why would you have a weapon without having it condition one?

Martinez followed the man, taking the sign of peace as a reason to do so. If Grula or the rest of the squad had a plan to harm him, why would the Aviex give him a weapon?

Once outside, Martinez scanned the area around him, something Grula noted and chuckled, treating the Human's vigilance like a joke.

“Brother, chill out,” Grula insisted, lighting a cigarette.

Though it was not tobacco, it was Hyrala, a similar narcotic Martinez knew what he lit—Hyrala was the universe's more common way of giving species nicotine. Tobacco was more potent and had not become popular outside military units attached to Humans.

After Grula lit his cigarette, he offered the just-lit one from his lips to Martinez; following a moment of pause and jamming the pistol in his belt, the Human grabbed the offered smoke.

Martinez was not the type of man to smoke, but if it was offered, why say no? Grula was clearly trying to break the ice between them. Martinez and many other Human NCOs have done similar things when they want to chat with someone.

“So what do you want?” Martinez said, cutting to the chase and taking a drag on the cigarette.

“In all honesty, I wanted to chat with you and try to convince you that Kyroll is not as bad as he seems,” Grula replied. “My old squad leader—-is a troubled man.”

Martinez did not actively reply but rolled his eyes and leaned back against the truck bed, letting the Aveix veteran continue.

“I know you have heard about him from little Lysa and likely Nelya too,” Grula continued. "How he is cold, distant, and uncaring?”

“I have, what about it?” Martinez replied flatly, flicking away some ash.

“Brother, I just want you to give that stubborn ass a chance—as big of an ask as that is. I know how this will likely go once the squad leaves,” Grula sighed, cracking his neck and open-palming toward the house.

“Even if he is troubled, what he does will be his problem. Hell, it will be more of an issue for Lysa and Nelya than it will for me,” Martinez shrugged. “I really do not care about how he feels. But I do give a relative rat's ass about those two.”

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That was something the Human truly believed in; his safety could get bent, and Kyroll’s health could likewise go the way of the dodo. The only thing that mattered inside those walls was Nelya and Lysa.

Granted, they did for different reasons, but it was an issue of blood between the two lovely women.

Grula lifted his boot and stamped out the butt of his cigarette while sighing, “Yeah—I figured you would say something like that.”

“What else would I do?” Martinez questioned as Grula clambered into the cab and held his hand out toward Martinez.

Without being asked, Martinez put the pistol's grip into Grula’s hand. Grula was wasting his time trying to ask much of the Human. He was regrettably aware of the History between his god-daughter and her father.

They were silent as the Aviex’s other meaty gripper moved the slide, checking the chamber for ammunition. “Try not to kill one another,” he chuckled, slipping the weapon into the dash.

“That’s easier said than done from what I've seen,” Martinez replied, gesturing back at the house where Nelya and the other troopers were filling out.

“Yeah—I know, brother—I know,” Grula sighed before pausing and waving goodbye to his squad and Nelya, who did likewise. “Just don’t let that ass get to you,” he continued after turning over the powerful engine in his truck.

“Fuck man, call me if you need a hand with the old snot weasel,” Grula said, leaning over and handing Martinez a card.

It was not some special digital chip with his contact that would be thrown away after downloading the information; no, Grula had given him a genuine paper-printed contact card. Martinez had never seen one in person. Sure, they existed in the fiction media he and Lysa watched. But they were not used on earth even before the great uplifting half a century ago.

Holding the hard print in his hand drove home how truly backwater this section of the planet and universe was. You could not get this on earth without having a bunch of money, or it was for some specialized product—like the hard cardstock that came with his silken bedding.

“Sure,” Martinez replied, still not entirely trusting Grula, something the professional man noted with a simple grunt before pulling away, his tires crackling on the stones.

Martinez did not respond as Grula drove away, watching his truck's rear lights vanish over the horizon. Turning around, he was shocked and unnerved that the others were watching him in their trucks, knuckles whiter than usual due to the Aviex’s pale complexion.

Most of them gave Martinez a genuine smile and a quick nod before starting their vehicles and departing. Offering him a goodbye in standard as each pulled away, something he likewise did.

Until the only one of the squad who did not seem to be happy about his presence was left, Kyroll withstanding.

He was the older-looking Aviex from downstairs who sat immediately off to Kyrolls side earlier that day.

Unlike the others, this man had grayish hair, tired-looking, nearly black eyes, and wrinkles as deep as canyons across his scowled face.

This guy was still glaring at the Human when the others were mostly staring at him cautiously, or with a nearly overflowing curiosity.

“Burkla, you should head home—Frela won’t want you out too late,” Nelya said, interrupting the awkward stare-down.

He sneered toothily at Martinez for another moment before looking over at Nelya, “Yeah, I would hate to keep the Gra'hu waiting,” Burkla nodded before putting his old rattling truck into gear and rolling forward.

Burkla ensured Nelya could not see the gesture he sent Martinez’s way while rolling past; unlike the Aviex language, Martinez needed no translator to understand what running your thumb across your neck meant.

Some gestures were universal, and that threat sent a shiver down his spine.

What in God's name was wrong with that guy—and Kyroll? But Martinez had no doubt tonight would answer most of those issues.

Martinez walked over toward Nelya and was going to ask what he had missed between the conversation in Aviex earlier that day. He also wanted clarification on how Grula had implied they had chatted about her grand plan—but life had other plans for the duo.

Flowing out the open door and filling their heads with panic, Lysa and Kyroll yelled at one another in Aviex. Sharp curses, a smashed glass, and what Martinez prayed was not the sound of someone eating a hit followed right after.

Hearing that put Martinez’s ass into gear.

“Ah fuck!” Martinez exclaimed, running past Nelya, who flowed in behind the Human.

Nelya was glad Martinez could not understand Aviex; hearing Lysa or Kryoll launch such venom at one another was unreal. As they rounded the corner, she had already heard them calling one another brain dead, bastard, whore, and she hoped she misheard Kryoll calling Lysa a Vuric’s whore.

That would be beyond even his moronic ass. Nelya at least prayed it was.

She had expected that they could have been left alone for a few minutes without any issues, especially after her firm warning to Kyroll that Lysa and Henry were only giving him this one chance to not be an asshat.

But apparently, her Gra'hu must have thought his snide comments about Martinez would have been far more well-received than Lysa was or should tolerate.

“You waste of air; How fucking dare you!” Lysa hissed in Aviex, jamming her sharp nail into his chest.

“You brought that fucking thing into my house, around your moth—” Kyroll started to reply, but because of his train of thought was interrupted by a mixture of the other halves of the two relationships encroaching, even if they were approaching the issue in two drastically different ways—namely because Martinez could not have heard him calling the Human a freak, monster, animal, or Vuric, an Aviex word that is used similarly to the rest of the universes term Vein-slicer.

“Kyroll! Stop right now!” Nelya snapped, grabbing his shoulder and ripping his attention from Lysa—and Henry who forced himself between them and was making no effort to shield Kryoll from Lysa, giving Kyroll and Nelya his back.

That was something that Nelya had more time to focus on, and it would have melted her heart. Lysa had made it well known over the last few days that she would have no issues with her argument with Kyroll becoming physical—and with her training, age, and just that Male and Female Aviex are in no way less hardy than the other, that could not end well.

That and Nelya regrettably could see Martinez joining in and thrashing Kyroll because her husband likely would fight back. If they both fought Kyroll— at least one of them would need stitches, and it would assuredly be Kyroll.

“Whoa, whoa, Ruh'ah, it’s okay,” Martinez assured, gently holding Lysa’s shoulders and getting between the pair standing over a shattered mug in the living room.

“Don’t you dare use that word, you filthy animal,” Kyroll replied in Aviex, having not bothered to change back to Standard.

“Pound sand, you old bastard,” Lysa hissed in Aviex, ignoring that Martinez and Nelya were even there. Both had to actively keep the others apart, though Nelya was more gently trying to get a word in to get Kyrolls attention, while Martinez might as well be keeping Lysa from skinning her father. “Don’t you have even the slightest amount of care for me and my joy?”

Nelya looked at Kyroll, who honestly looked slightly shocked by the comment. She and Kyroll had spoken about how much he regretted what had happened in the past and how his main goal with Lysa, which was her safety, had only caused issues—he just had the emotional flexibility of a rock.

“Don’t you say a word,” Nelya softly interjected, taking advantage of his pause. She spoke loud enough that Kyroll could hear, but hopefully not so loud that her emotionally charged daughter.

Not that her not hearing genuinely mattered. They were pulled tight like piano strings and were one wrong move from soiling any chance of them salvaging their relationship.

“Oh no, Mother, let the fucker say it!” Lysa hissed, having heard Nelya and venomously remembering the last time they spoke when Kryoll had essentially expressed that she could never date or be around anyone non-Aviex. “If that dalcop thinks he knows anything about me, Ruh'ah, or our lives, he can say it.”

“Don't you dare,” Nelya reinforced, before looking back at Martinez and was about to ask him to please get Lysa out of here for the moment so she could speak to Kyroll.

But her dear Gra'hu, just had to be himself again: an old, stubborn, stupid man, who had no idea how to deescalate anything, nor had any relevant understanding of Lysa’s emotional issues.

“What do you know? I’m trying to keep my stupid daughter safe from these fucking monsters who will be more than happy to—” Kyroll started but was stopped by a deafening slap across his face from Lysa.

Martinez tried to wrangle her back after she slipped past him to strike her father. But it was not needed; she did not speak, or even look at him after leaving the non-mangled half of his face as red as his eyes.

Fuck, none of them moved, breathed, or did anything for the next few moments. The world had fallen silent, leaving only their orbit high heart rates as an indication they were still alive.

If a nail dropped in the room right then, it would have been more voluminous than a gunshot and just as deadly.

Lysa paused and looked at her hand, unable to accept that she hit him back, then toward Martinez for reassurance. But her Human’s look of anguish did not help. No, it cracked her heart like ice on the pavement.

Lysa knew she crossed the hard line of no return; they all knew it.

Instead of pressing her attack or begging her father to try to understand—she sniffled and rushed out the back door, all those years of hate overflowing in that one millisecond-long strike.

Martinez rushed after her, not even waiting to hear Nelya asking him to watch after her daughter; the Human did not need to be told to do so. The older Aviex knew he would.

Neither Nelya nor Kyroll spoke or breathed until the guest house door closed loudly.

Nelya sighed, stepped back, and took a deep breath. This was an unmitigated disaster. How in all the universe did she mess this up so badly? What happened? What could she have changed to not have her family despise one another?

Kryoll stepped closer and was about to speak, but Nelya placed a firm hand in the center of his chest to stop him, “Sit down now!” Nelya said as calmly as possible.

She did not need to yell or hiss right now. Neither would help, after all.

But Nelya doubted this could be salvaged. For all she knew, Martinez and Lysa were packing already, both about to leave her and her Gra'hu’s lives for good.

The wizened woman hoped that blunder would not be the final wedge between her daughter and Kyroll—But she needed answers before that fortune could even be guessed at.