The taproom was loud and filled with noxious smoke from a dozen different inhalants despite the best efforts of the air filtration system. Gryzzk wondered for not the first time and certainly not the last why his lord had insisted on taking the meeting there - it would be a long time before the smell of this place was out of his fur, and the whole time would be difficult. The other servants were quick to judge, and while his lord could get away with such smells, he would be the subject of rumor and innuendo. A quick glance at his lord seated at the bar was enough to reassure him that all would be well. The signage in the place was a collage of advertisement from every civilized species in the Collective, but the dominant culture was Terran. The holosign over the main bar area advertised the name as Ricks', and next to that rotating signs announced in multiple languages that broken items would be charged to the breakers' account. The mirror behind him was partially obscured by bottles of many sizes, but the cosmopolitan nature of them spoke to a bar that served most of the known species in the quadrant.

Gryzzk didn't have time to admire the decor for long as he was pushed further inside by a group of Terrans who were babbling in what sounded like communication but at the same time made absolutely no sense to his translation earpiece. He was compelled by the physics of motion toward the bar where he was roughly propelled by the group before they turned their attention to the taps, pointing and calling out for a Rick to get a few new arms to pull some beers. Orders were shouted, filled and the rowdy crowd dispersed to gaming tables to play and insult each other. Eventually Rick cast an eye toward Gryzzk.

"You drinkin or staring?" The barmans' voice was a sound like stones being ground together. Gryzzk swallowed nervously.

"Ah, what do you have that's, ah, non-toxic?" The question was earnest but met with a stare that suggested Gryzzk had grown a seventh eye.

"Listen nothing here's non-toxic to everyone, but for you..." The barman reached, poured, and mixed things together and set a glass of something fizzing and brown in front of Gryzzk. "Five cred. The guy you want's over there."

Gryzzk flicked three of his six eyes in the direction to see that there was a lone figure at a table - he seemed unaware or unconcerned by the number of empty glasses in front of him, some large and some small. Gryzzk nodded his thanks, a cultural oddity he'd been coached on before making his way slowly toward the figure to assess and consider his next actions. From what he knew of humans, they were dangerous from any angle, so sitting to one side or the other would be irrelevant. Finally he sat with the human on his left, which would allow Gryzzk to keep sight of his lord and protect him should the negotiations sour. The human didn't seem terribly dangerous in his attitude, but the curl of his hands and width of his shoulders suggested he was a laborer of some sort. His outer shirt was unbuttoned, leaving an undershirt emblazoned with an earth animal and some strange lettering that Gryzzks' ocular translator was unable to decipher, leaving him to wonder what "Omnia possum explicare" meant.

The Terran made a noise. "Who's sitting at my table." Unlike the barman, his tablemates' voice was a soothing oil that gave Gryzzk pause and almost forget what he was supposed to say. His mind had to pause to form the words.

"General Kenobi?" Whoever General Kenobi actually was had been long lost to time, but for some reason it was insisted upon as the proper phrase to open the negotiation.

There was a ghost of a smile in return, "Hello there." This too had been arranged in advance, and the Terran nodded assent.

"So. I'm Major Williams, and I understand you're looking to hire the Bravo Bulldogs. My man Rick couldn't tell me anything else." The undertone was clear.

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"We wish to, yes. The heir to the throne of Vilantia has been kidnapped by the Hurdop Empire, and our alternatives are few. Our home forces are occupied with the war effort, and it was determined that reallocating resources for a retrieval would result in catastrophic loss, and the retrieval of the heir would be a moot point."

"Alright, where's your heir?"

"We do not know."

"So we need to find as well as retrieve?" There was a sigh. "Listen pal, last I checked space was pretty friggin big, so if you're not forthcoming with any more details, you can go - " Gryzzks' translator went to static for a moment before an automated message interrupted with "Untranslatable. Closest translation is anatomically impossible act. Context suggests insulting."

Gryzzk stammered a bit. "We know the location, however the heirs' locator beacon is being occluded, making precise location impossible. We know he is being held in a fortress in the northern part of, ah Teegarden B."

There was an exhalation - whether that was good or bad, Gryzzk couldn't tell. Finally the Major spoke. "Alright, let's talk fees. Show me a number."

Gryzzk nodded, sliding a small datapad over. "This is what I've been allowed to offer."

There was a snort from the Major. Definitely not good as he flicked the pad back. "You're missing some zeros. This'd get you three of my cooks to pull your boss there into the alley to knock him out, and they'd still go through his pockets for any creds to get square." Gryzzk blinked, which the Major waved away. "You're the only two Vilantians here. The servant does the talking, the lord does the watching. He's been using the mirror to watch us the whole time. And none of that solves the problem of this insultingly low number in front of me."

Gryzzk drummed his claws nervously as his mind raced to recall what else he could offer. "The, ah, fortress is said to house many treasures of the Hurdop Empire that can be sold to offset the difference. You could also hold them for ransom from the Empire."

There was a smirk from the Major. "And also distract them and let your troops go on the offensive, maybe even win that war y'all been fightin'?"

"Well, yes."

"Anyone ever put a cred amount on these treasures?"

"Well, no."

"Fine. Go talk to your boss for a minute, I'mma put this to a vote."

Gryzzk blinked. "A...vote? You're the Major. The leader, I thought?"

There was a nod. "Yep. When we're on a job, I say jump and they're in the air asking how high. Before we take the job, especially a charity case like this one where we're working on spec, I put it to a company vote. The troops vote yes, we go. Troops vote no, you come back with a better offer right quick or find a cheaper company. I heard Bad Moon Company's for hire right now. They'd do it for this price, but your heir might be in a couple pieces when they're done."

Gryzzk swallowed. "I do not think the populace would approve."

"Me neither. Now shoo, faster you go, faster we get this settled. Don't forget your drink."

Gryzzk moved away toward his lord with his glass still full, his brows worried. "My lord, he knew of your position."

The was a whispered oath to the dead gods from his lord. "Of course they did. What is the result?"

"The Major has placed our offer in front of the company and they are voting."

A softer oath. "He is in command, is he not?"

"Yes, my lord. But he was unimpressed with our offer, and was unmoved until I mentioned the possibility of ransoming the treasures of Hurdop."

"He should be glad we are paying at all. Mercenaries for this sort of duty - it raises my fur, Gryzzk. They should be honored."

Before Gryzzk could reply, he and his lord were separated by the bulk of the Major. "Whelp, you boys got a company on one condition. Won't mind telling you though, if these Hurdop treasures you're talking about don't pan out, we are gonna get paid through alternate means."

There was a glance between the two, which the Major waved away. "No worries though. I'm sure they've got enough cred to spare. As for the condition," he clapped Gryzzk on the back hard enough to expel most of his breath "your man Gryzzk here's coming with us as an observer."

Gryzzks' lord ignored the panic emanating from Gryzzk to nod. "That is fair."

Gryzzk fought to hold down the rising panic in his stomach and pain in his back long enough to finally drink everything in his glass. It burned horribly, but it seemed cool and eased his panic.

The major turned and raised his glass. "Bulldogs! Next round's on this guy!" And pointed at Gryzzks' lord. There was a cheer from the gaming tables, and it was the lords' turn to blanch.