Vilantia Prime, Estate of Lord A'kifab

The power was on at night, the first sign of the new future. Every channel carried the scent of hope along the waves, and there was celebration throughout all of Vilantia.

Almost all of Vilantia. Lord A'kifab sat in his study, watching the news feeds and waiting for a holo to signal for an incoming message. The expected invitation to the final Peace Accord signing never arrived, and none of the press had called to interview the Lord who had placed so much of his own self at risk, even sending his own Lead Servant to attend the task that needed to be done. Now it seemed as if the universe had decided that all his sacrifice was insufficient. He looked at his glass of brightwine sullenly, as if daring it to speak what he knew. He watched as the details went on and on, how there was to be a transition period overseen by the Terran branch of the Collective Diplomatic Corps with exchanges between the two planets as a surety, along with a blending of economy to ensure that both Thrones would be secure and remain secure.

Great Lord Aa'porti, the one who had convinced him this plan was functional, the one who had supplied just enough funds for himself and his other lords to be able to afford hiring those twilight-born Terrans, and the one who had sworn to him that this would be his first step to becoming a Great Lord, had left him alone. Even his fellow lords who were integral to what had transpired had only sent token messages, and the scent was reminiscent of their condolences when his wife had passed.

He looked out to Lady A'Kefabs' tree for a long time, wondering how someone like him could have been so blessed and cursed at the same time. All the things he'd hoped for seemed to be slipping away and all he could do was wait, with a Lead Servant barely worth the name. Those thoughts raced in his head, carrying him until the night became twilight became dawn.

With the dawn there was no renewal of the Lords' mood. A small breakfast of herbs and eggs left him sated. There was no morning communication, not even the routine advertisements or news from the other lords. It seemed as though the world had gone on without him. He went about his morning stroll, mind fogged from lack of sleep and what may have been one or five too many glasses of brightwine.

As he exited the manor, a groundcar pulled up bearing the scent and sigil of the Throne. A'kifab cursed inwardly and brought himself up and staring skyward, as was proper.

The exiting personnel were Great Lord Aa'porti as well as someone he'd never scented before, but carried the scent of the Throne about them. The Great Lord seemed excited about something. What specifically was uncertain.

"Lord A'kifab, I trust you have seen news of the Peace Accord?"

"Yes my lord. I fear I was not able to see all the fine details of the Accord itself, but I trust it went well."

"It did. I was able to present your fur to the Throne of Vilantia, and the Throne is pleased with it. So pleased in fact that you have been chosen as emissary."

"Emissary, my lord? To where?"

"To Hurdop Prime, of course. Now of course, as we are to be blending societies, once you arrive and take your station on Hurdop, the Great Lord of your lands will be selecting a wife for you, as is proper." Lord Aa'porti gave off an enthusiastic scent. "It will be a pleasant change for you, and I hope you are able to seize this opportunity before you. You may inform your staff as you please, but transportation to the spaceport will be arriving in one month – only take what is dearest to you. This week, a fresh wind brings a new era in the relations between our two planets."

Lord A'kifab could only blink, although he was certain his scent betrayed his shock and dismay at this news. "Of course, my lord."

___________

Twilight Rose, Bridge

Gryzzk hated this. He'd barely scented his wifes' fur and felt their children stirring before the orders had come in that the ships were decoupling and that he had to disembark the Voided Warranty for his new command. Never mind that they were only going to be apart for a day before the R-space transit had completed, his new ship was full of nothing that he wanted. He'd sent his reports, gone over the manifests, read through the captains' logs, and the more he read, the more he realized just how much privilege he'd been extended. His greatest concern had been keeping the manor running smoothly to the exclusion of all other things. He had been well-compared to the other Lead Servants, and Lord A'kifab had said more than one time that his greatest luxury was knowing that Gryzzk and Grezzk kept the household so well aligned that all he had to concern himself with were the taxes.

But now this. This was something new. He was on the bridge of a cargo ship that he could barely find his way around, with a skeleton crew comprised of Terrans from two other mercenary ships, and then he was going to have to give a statement to the Vilantian Consulate on New Casablanca. To make things more complicated there were about a dozen or so children on board - although given that they were children it could have been any number between four and forty. Once everyone was awake and able to talk, the consulate was going to have to decide if the people in stasis were worthy of a trip back to their former lives or if they were criminals and there was no need for them to be hurried home. In the latter case, he could interview them and put in a claim for whatever services they could render. It would be awkward, but it was certainly within their means. His bridge crew were mostly unknown to him, but that at least he could rectify. He grabbed his tablet and started looking over the roster for the entirety of the 7th Cav. His job at the moment was to pick out a dozen or so Terrans to serve as his cadre. And once that was set, then he had to take in applications and look for qualified troops from both the Hurdop and Vilantians. That was going to be difficult, as the war had concluded recently. Very recently. The sour fur was still going to be very present for all concerned. And then he was going to have to work on some manner of training regimen. While the companies did have general fitness standards, while they were on ship the standards were lax. And also built for Terrans, it seemed. The items they listed weren't unachievable, for the Vilantians and Hurdop they would be easy - particularly given the testing ground was low gravity, comparatively.

So many things to do, and nobody to delegate to. At least not until he'd had an opportunity to hire them in. He considered for a long moment before going through the list of officers, sergeants and sergeant-candidates. He was going to need at least four of each for the combat squads, along with the ships' complement. The task was daunting. But he did take a small measure of pride in his handling of a household. This was different only in scope and purpose. He began flicking through the rosters of available personnel again, beginning his selections and then making additional ones in the event that his initial selections did not have the desire. This was another thing where Vilantians and Terrans had a difference. Here, particularly within the mercenary companies, every soldier was their own sovereign at the end of the day. Before and after their missions, they could choose or decline transfers, promotions, or even in some circumstances cash out and retire. This conflicted deeply with the Clan-way. Gryzzks ancestors had served Lord A'kifabs ancestors since time began - that was simply how it was. The workers had always been workers, with marriages across clans to solidify their mutual bonds. There was no logic to the Terran way. They trained in a job, but it was not their life. They seemed to go from job to job, with varying results. He considered this and started looking deeper.

There was a section in each Terran personnel file marked "hobbies". This was a revelation to Gryzzk. The Terrans not only did things unrelated to their primary duties, they seemed to revel in them. This could be an intriguing opportunity. If his squads were able to coalesce both on and off the ship, this could be something new. It wasn't something he'd ever considered when staffing before – previously it was a simple matter of their family line and if they were physically capable of doing the work. Perhaps the numbers were fewer, but the complexity of each number was deeper.

"Captain Gryzzk, we're coming up on New Casablanca." The helmsman's' voice snapped him out of his reverie. Had he really been on the bridge this entire time studying the rosters? He had to have slept at some point, but he didn't recall it. He looked and realized that the helmsman was definitely not the same one he'd seen initially. "Coming out of R-space in 3, 2, 1."

The deep blue that was the forward looking view of R-space disappeared as if a fog was wiped away, showing something the Gryzzk had never thought to see again not so long ago. Off to his left was the moon of New Casablanca, orbiting its parent and a sun that glowed an unfamiliar orange. Directly above was the hollowed asteroid that was called Homeplate and served as the headquarters and home of the mercenary company known as the 7th Cavalry.

There was a long pause before Gryzzk said anything. "Take us...take us in. Communications, open a channel and request medical and diplomatic personnel." He stood, feeling joints protest at the treatment. He'd definitely fallen asleep in the command chair.

The ship began a long, slow and steady process of entering and then maneuvering to a docking berth. The external view showed a large number of people already gathered under brilliant blue lights. Gryzzk stood, adjusted his clothes and beret. "Well done crew. Shut down and disembark." He belatedly realized that he had not turned on the channel to the entire ship, and toggled it. "Crew we are, ah, secured to the dock at this time. Engineering, please set the local gravity to Terran standard. Afterward please disembark per standard process." And he shut the channel down, hoping that was good enough. He left the bridge and saw the skeleton crew leaving from the aft dock and as they left the forward docking hatch had opened and people began streaming in with equipment, gurneys and stretchers. The first few across stumbled as the gravity was lightened enough to allow the Terrans ease of movement while they conducted what appeared to be organized chaos. The bridge crew leaving was a bit shameful for him as Gryzzk thanked each of them by rank instead of name as they departed. He should have had time to learn at least their names, but he was wrapped in his own research and investigation. He resolved to improve upon this and apologize for his error. That said he stayed until all of the Vilantians had been removed to medical care, and then made one last inspection of the ship to ensure that it was in fact clean of all crew and the children before gathering his things and exiting himself.

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He expected chaos, but instead he was greeted by what appeared to be every officer in the whole of the 7th Cav wearing dress uniforms. The headgear was a bit of a mismatch - some were wearing berets and others a very strange sort of hat with a wide brim that was upturned at the sides and a dent on top that seemed to be intentional. The one in charge was tall, like all the Terrans, dark skinned and grey eyed. What hair he had was also grey in color, which seemed unique. While Gryzzk couldn't decipher all the ribbons on the mans' chest, the sheer number of them meant something, along with his unique rank - it seemed to be a Terran bird of some sort, but it was difficult to see simply due to the height difference.

Gryzzk stood and offered a salute as the man approached, and as he'd learned, only dropped his after the return.

There was a nod. "Captain Gryzzk, I'm Colonel Sinclair, head of the 7th Cavalry mercenary company." There was a pause. "That means I'm the man who signs off on your paycheck. And that said, you appear to be out of uniform. That red rank's for a brevet officer, and according to my records you ain't that." With that, Colonel Sinclair offered a small purple felt box which opened to reveal a set of gold bars with red edging, the exact opposite of what he currently had. "You'll need to put that on as soon as you can, Captain. We've read your reports, and damned if you're not what we're looking for. We're gonna take care of the folks you brought us. Your quarters are over thataway - route's been downloaded to your tablet. Your wife's already there and waiting. Do us proud and make us rich. Dismissed." With that, the entire group stood rigid and saluted Gryzzk. There was a blink from all of his eyes before he hesitantly returned it. With that, the group dispersed to their normal duties.

It was a hard slog with lots of stairs and elevators that appeared to be marked for cargo only, but it was only challenging in the fact that there was a great deal of distance to cover. He could smell Grezzks passage, as well as that of Muranagas' squad and that gave his feet a lightness that would have only been matched by the predator cats back home.

He threw the door open only to be immediately destabilized by Nhoot and Gro'zel each attacking a leg. Further to that, where his eyes had expected to see only Grezzk, he saw the entirety of Muranagas' squad there with her, helping her with a few things she wasn't used to as far as the controls and communications. He also smelled something wonderful from the kitchen. And he was right, as he waddled with the children to counter where a tureen filled with the fish and grain dish landis'og - like all printed foods, it wasn't perfect but it was close enough that he wasn't going to complain. He took a few dishes and handed them down to the giggling children who darted off to eat at the table. With his release he went over to Grezzk, pressing his forehead to hers and then indulging himself with a long, slow, deep inhalation before exhaling into her shoulder. The gesture was returned thoroughly by his wife, and Gryzzk felt whole again for the first time in a long time.

"They told me about what you've done, my handsome hand." That was all he needed to hear before he carried her to their sofa.

"Rest, my rose." He settled into a corner of the couch where he could eat and have her lounge on him.

The rest of the squad had slowly stopped talking and let them have their space for a few minutes before Muranaga cleared his throat and explained.

"Your missus, well, we figured she might need some help finding your quarters and figuring out how Terran stuff works. Nhoot ran over to me as soon as she got off the ship and wouldn't leave. Then she wanted to show off some Vilantian food for us and she made your favorite I guess? It's...quite good."

Laroy jumped in. "Hotter'n' a-" He cut himself off, apparently remembering there were children present. "I mean this is, this'd be welcome at Grandmama Thibedeauxs' table any day of the week. Hooo, I send her recipe soon as I get it."

The rest of the squad voiced general agreement. Of the squad, Reilly was the one with the most notable change. Her pixie-like hair had been dyed purple, and then trimmed at the ends with a gradient that went from the dominant purple to red to gold. It was a little surprising to see.

Gryzzk began eating quickly. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you all, but is there another Terran tradition I should be aware of that is about to happen?"

There was a nod from Reilly. "Yep. Success means celebration. We going down to Casablanca and we're gonna let the whole Collective know we're badasses. And we cleared it with Miz Grezzk already. She's gonna take care of the kids tonight, we promised her we'd bring you home mostly alright." There was a pause. "What do you guys drink anyway?"

"Well, on Lord A'kifabs' estate we farmed a great deal and we made brightwine." Gryzzk paused. "Ah. We have insects that make a sweet, thick liquid called peltine that can be fermented, but the process takes a great deal of time. The results are very worth it. We...well, before the last war started, our brightwine was some of the best. It was perfect for celebration. We would add extracts from other plants and flowers, and our brewmaster was discussing if we could possibly even add twilight rose petals to the mixture, but that was deemed bad luck. "

Roberts glanced around the room to confirm. "So...mead?" He shook his head in amusement. "Eats fish and food that would kill most men, absolute wildcat in a fight, drinks mead...he's a [bzzt]ing viking." He blushed slightly. "Pardon the language."

There was general agreement from the squad as everyone made the connection just a touch later than Edwards. The next half-hour was spent in casual conversation, with the children staying close to Grezzk and Gryzzk, with occasional sniffs out to each of the individual squad members. Nhoot still had Rhipl'i in a hug throughout everything.

Grezzk yawned into her hand, and levered herself up from the couch with help from Gryzzk. "Oh, apologies. We'll put the children to bed and then you and your new...clan may regale the bar with tales of your valor."

"Of course we will. And I'll tell them that the reason for such valor is the love of a beautiful woman."

Grezzk cuffed her husband gently. "Flatterer."

The squad helped put the children into a bunk bed in a room that was un-decorated – waiting for children to make it theirs. Immediately thereafter, Grezzk went to bed herself, After which, Gryzzk checked to make sure his clothes were clean and his shoes were acceptable, and then they left.

The squad took the cargo elevator down and from there, a waiting shuttle took them down to Ricks' whereupon the bar was all but invaded as the entire group called for mead. For Gryzzk, the aura of the place was different. Previously, he'd been nervous as he had been given strict negotiation instructions which were promptly sent out the door, and he was an interloper. This time, he felt more comfortable, as if he belonged somehow. It was an odd feeling, particularly as he picked out shirts and could see that this bar seemed to cater to mercenary companies. There was even hiring and haggling going on over drinks as one group or another was hiring to do some task or another that would not be resolved peacefully.

There were various games lining the walls, which seemed interesting but undecipherable. Gryzzk sipped at his mead and found it did in fact compare closely to brightwine – it seemed to have a softness to it that he'd never had. Still, it served the same purpose as brightwine and that was quite enough. He relaxed a bit, enjoying this sense of a clan bond with these Terrans who seemed to be unashamedly bold.

That was the word that had been escaping him about the Terrans this whole time. They were bold in their actions, their feelings, even their food was bold. Mostly.

Gryzzk ruminated on this until Muranaga elbowed him gently. "Gryz. You're dry, brother." Gryzzk looked down and realized he'd been sipping at an empty mug for possibly some time and called for another. A second mead was delivered, and subsequently drank. The two officers sat back and watched the enlisted members of the squad playing some game that involved moving a plastic disc into a goal of some sort.

"What's on your mind?" Muranagas' question over the loud atmosphere seemed to cut through.

"A great deal. Filling out the ranks, getting a company in order and trained, all those things."

Muranaga chuffed softly. "Is that something you can fix right now?"

"Not tonight."

"Then leave it. Tomorrow's problems are gonna be there, and if you worry about them now you're robbing yourself of a good night with some good people." He nodded toward the squad. "Look at 'em. This thing we did? Last mission they're all gonna be together. We played a game in R-space to see who would accept a transfer to your Legion if you offered it and Reilly won. Damn fine comm runner. Whoever else wins, I'd recommend you keep 'em on your bridge crew.

A thought came to Gryzzk. "Did you...?"

"Oh I lost." There was a shrug. "I suck at cards. So even if you offer me a job, I'll decline it."

There was a cheer from the squad that caught both of their attentions, and Gryzzk was feeling affected by the second mead.

Edwards bounded over jumping up and down like a giddy child. "I won! L-T, sir...I shouldn't be so happy..."

Muranaga smiled, waving casually. "You're getting in on the ground floor of something good. Gryz, if you're so inclined, that's two slots filled for the morning roster."

This knowledge seemed to relax Gryzzk immensely. He finished his second mead and waved down the bartender for a refill and also for Edwards and Reilly's' next round. It seemed that bit by bit the weight on his shoulders was lessening.

The entrance doors boomed open, and a half-dozen Terrans swaggered to the bar. They seemed - at least on the surface - to be something akin to the Bravo Bulldogs. Their bright red shirts were a bit torn, all with the same pattern of the letters "BMC" emblazoned on them in a very peculiar manner. Directly above was their logo, the upper half of the mouth of a Terran wolf closing around the New Casablanca moon. The mild resemblance to the ancient Nameless marking did nothing to put Gryzzk at ease. The greatest difference with these Terrans was their scent. They were arrogant, moving like someone who was looking for an excuse to fight, and if an excuse wasn't readily available one would be invented.

Muranagas' squad groaned collectively, leaving Gryzzk with a questioning look on his face.

Reilly leaned in to give Gryzzk the backstory. "Bad Moon Company. They're like us, but stupid. Fail more often than not, and nobody knows how they stay solvent."

Gryzzk filed that bit of knowledge away with a nod as one of the Bad Moon Company strode over from their spot at the bar and deliberately spat in Gryzzks' mead.