Syl
"Syl! Over here! I got us good seats!"
Syl walks through the hangar bay briskly, heading towards the familiar voice of Sharon Graves by her hearing alone. The throng of people was getting large, and cargo pods were being pressed into service as bleachers.
For the Skipper's family however, ring side seats had been reserved, and some nice chairs had been fetched by someone or another for any of the pregnant wives that decided to attend a battle that would see a new wife joining their ranks.
Syl chuckles to herself as she takes her seat, idly noting that Sharon had included herself in the clan seating for the Captain's family. To sit with Syl and her other close friends of course. Sharon had gotten close with Evie and Wichen as well... but Syl couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to it.
The vulpine alien quickly sets the intriguing mystery of Sharon ‘Zombie’' Graves aside and turns to the more pressing matter at hand. Their new sister wife. For someone with the sobriquet of Gutripper, Syl had been expecting a barely restrained animal that she'd have to rely on Jaruna to put into her place if not just outright rejecting the other woman's request to join their marriage.
Jerry had been no help there, studiously refusing to say anything about Ghorza save what was in her profile from Intelligence and that she'd requested a marriage interview with Syl. Jerry hadn't wanted to color his first wife's opinion of her possible new sister.
This choice had been vindicated somewhat, as Syl had been very surprised for all her apprehension. Ghorza had been a perfect lady and highly amusing in the interview. The warrior woman didn't lack charm that was for sure. And being able to conduct herself in such a dignified manner pleased Syl greatly. She had a slightly higher standard for the family she had found herself matriarch of than some pirate rabble.
She mentally ticks off all the boxes in Ghorza's life story.
Born to an actual warrior house on the Horchka homeworld, but one that was in disgrace and dropping rapidly. Ghorza had barely managed to maintain her family's status by becoming a mercenary, and even that had been close. Ghorza had moved between a few more professional mercenary companies, Horchka lead war bands and a Cannidor merc clan that Jaruna had spoken highly of before she'd started rallying her own unit.
She'd gone home, struck her name from her clan's records then stuck up her banner in the slums, pulling women and girls in similar circumstances and giving them a chance to at least die gloriously if not earn some coin and get a modicum of honor back on their names.
While she maintained a lot of the traditions of the Horchka warrior culture, her unit was strictly modern and professional. Just as likely to turn up in well tailored suits with concealed armor as they were to turn up in power armor or full battle rattle.
All tallied up Ghorza had over sixty years of combat and command experience, having just undergone her first healing coma. She was a self made woman, a self taught business woman and marketing professional who'd taken enough classes on the side in her spare time to be rated as a junior grade of lawyer on a few planets, just so she could better negotiate contracts. A good sense of humor, a strong sense of responsibility for the people beneath her.
All excellent traits in a senior officer, Syl could certainly see what the Undaunted saw in Ghorza there. That all those qualifications happened to make her an excellent wife candidate was another story entirely. Ghorza had related to Syl that she'd just decided it was time to settle down a bit, do some husband hunting when humanity had shown up and turned the universe on its head.
"And I just had to get me some of that!" Ghorza had said with an infectious grin.
No, it wouldn't be a hardship to bring on someone with Ghorza's credentials. She was a boon to the family, and with Jerry being so serious about limiting the size of said family, Syl was determined that each woman would pull more than just her own weight. Be it inside the home or or out, working in the family business, that is, the operation of the Crimson Tear, or on their own projects.
Her own sisters were a decent yardstick, half of them taking commissions or enlisted positions within the infrastructure of the military side of the ship, Evie most prominently, and the others save Firi taking positions within the civilian apparatus or joining Syl’s cloning operation that was the actual point of this wild venture.
Firi had blossomed beautifully already to Syl’s mind, the “weakest”, shyest of her half sisters, had been born to be a homemaker. None could challenge Firi’s mothering instincts, and her profession as an educator left her uniquely qualified to take the position that was generally called a ‘Den Mother’ in Volpir society. The Den Mother rounded out the trio of wives that ran the operations of a Volpir clan.
The First Wife was matriarch and ruled the roost with their husband, and was the final word in most business for the clan. The second of the trio was the Sky Mother, who handled daily operations outside the home. Previously before the Volpir had made it to the stars, this had been a martial role primarily, organizing the security of the clan and its holdings. The third and final leader of the clan was the Den Mother.
While birth mothers held final sway over their individual kits, just like the rest of the wider galaxy, the Den Mother ran the daily operations of the core household, the care, feeding, raising and education of the family’s kits was her primary task. Second to her task was the maintenance, provisioning and other details connected to the den itself, the traditional Volpir clan home.
A mix of underground fortress and large communal family dwelling. It was a deeply respected position in Volpir society, because it generally meant surrendering your personal ambitions for the good of the clan. In practice of course the vixens who became Den Mothers or their subordinates generally had their ambitions focused on doing just that, or were simply naturally inclined towards the care of children.
Firi had already been goddess sent. Syl probably wouldn’t have thought about converting part of their quarters into a small kitchen with a full size walk in refrigerator till they needed it. But with nearly twenty children currently on the way, the tools and equipment to pump breast milk and sufficient storage for both it and formula were a must.
Syl pulls her pad up as people continue to filter in, reviewing the last of Ghorza's information and the assets she proposed to bring to the clan, not counting her former mercenary unit, as they were now purely Undaunted military troops, but quite a bit of other equipment to include a venerable large transport named Old One Eye after a particularly vicious critter Ghorza had hunted on and off.
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Speaking of Ghorza's troops, a large number of them were in attendance. Syl's eyes briefly sweep the crowd of tough looking former mercs. The vast majority were indeed Horchka, and many of them had already added crude Undaunted insignia onto their armor or clothing, a sign of respect to their new clan no doubt.
No markings to specify the Crimson Tear's embarked troops yet, but then, such markings didn't exactly exist yet either, and they'd only been formally brought on a few hours ago.
Syl flicks through a bit more of Ghorza's resume, numerous contracts for everything from fighting wars, special operations work, to VIP security. Ghorza herself had demonstrated proficiency per her previous employers, in small and large unit tactics, strategic operations, demolitions, the list of military skills blended together as they scrolled past Syl's nose.
Only one really stood out to a civilian like Syl. Power armor. A rare skill set to say the least. Being able to afford to purchase then maintain power armor was a mark of considerable status for a mercenary outside of the Cannidor clans and merc groups, where such training was part of becoming a fully fledged Cannidor warrior.
A flare of bright white wings catches Syl's eye as Cascade Sarkin flies in with a few of the other Seramali huntresses who'd followed her lead and joined the Undaunted, then ended up assigned to the Tear so that they could benefit from having an officer of their own species in their organization... and to ensure the skilled warrior women were put to work immediately.
Such assets were not to be wasted, and the Crimson Tear was about to be the tip of the spear.
A shape drops off Cascade's back, revealing Tyler Sarkin, looking a bit frazzled after flying on his new wife's back. Syl can't help but grin. Another happy beginning on her family's ship. Such occurrences pleased her greatly, as if she was the mother of the young men and women involved... though that was almost certainly her pregnancy hormones talking.
The shrill call of a bosun's whistle cuts through her thoughts as the room snaps to attention to a shout of. "Captain on deck!"
Syl's heart flutters when she hears Jerry bellow a "Carry on!" command. Sure, it was more Jaruna, Evie and Wichen's thing, but they weren't the only ones who liked it when their husband threw his weight around a little bit.
The room goes from silent to a low murmur as a man from the ship's company dressed up in what Syl would later learn is called a tuxedo walks to the center of the space marked out for the fight. She leans over to Sharon.
"What's he doing?"
Sharon's eyes glimmer with a smile. "You'll see. Time for you xenos to get exposed to some classic human culture."
The dressed up sailor produces a microphone, and with a sonorous voice like something out of the trailers for movies Jerry had shown her begins to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for this afternoon's event. A match that's the first of its kind in all of galactic history. The first regulated bout between Horchka and Human since we left Cruuuuuuuuel space!"
The humans in the audience gamely cheer when prompted by the announcer, and the more martially inclined of the aliens present quickly pick up on what's going on here. Every good scrape needed a hype man right?
"It is my pleasure to introduce to you, the defending champion of the UCV Crimson Tear's hand to hand community, standing at a muscular 1.8 meters tall, Captain Jeremiah Briiiiiiiiidger!"
The ship's company really goes nuts this time. The aliens are in on it now and they certainly know to cheer on their boss when it's coming down to a fight.
Jerry himself makes his entrance from the far end of the hangar. Someone had scared up a crimson robe in a material that looked like silk from here, and he was wearing it over his standard duty uniform without the blouse that went over top.
As he passes the family seats she can see that someone hastily emblazoned the back of the robe with the word ‘Skipper’ in English.
Jerry, ever Syl's dream come true, makes sure to offer Syl a wink and blow a kiss to her and the rest of his wives.
Jaruna is clearly more than a little excited by the prospect of some good old fashioned ultra violence.
The massive warrior calls out, "Break that green bitch in stud, if she can't handle the squared circle she'll goddamn die in our bed."
Drawing a chorus of cheers mixed with cat calls from the ship's company and jeers from the new recruits.
The announcer takes the lead as Jerry comes to a halt by the ring, passing the robe off to Top, the ever smiling Ghurka acting as Jerry's corner man.
"And now, coming to us from, and I quote, every war zone this quarter of the galaxy's spawned in the last half century, standing at a solid two meters tall and just shy of 160 kilograms, please welcome our challenger, Ghooooooooooorza Gutripper!"
The bulk of the ruckus was very distinctly from the new recruits this time, but the ship's company still gamely welcomed the green skinned redhead as she strides through her people. She's wearing nothing but a set of black compression garments that clung to her musculature and curves so tightly it's like they were painted on, and a set of knee length combat boots.
The compression garments were normal workout gear of course, and from what Syl understood, pretty standard to wear under power armor but with Ghorza's chiseled musculature and considerable curves, the effect was just shy of pornographic.
Ghorza grins at a few cat calls from enamored men in the audience, and leans into the announcer's microphone.
"Getting cat called by men, now that's a damn new one. Well you boys play nice now, I'm about five minutes from being a married woman, but I'm sure some of my girls would be more than happy to help you out if you want a little green in your diet."
The announcer does his best to keep a straight face and regain his pacing. "Up for wager today is not in fact the Skipper's title belt, but his hand in marriage! I..." The man stops for a second reading his cue card. "Hey wait a second sir. This says you're marrying Ms. Ghorza whether you win or lose."
Jerry nods "Yep that's the deal."
A mild look of confusion crosses the other man's face. "...So why have a bout if you're as good as married already?"
Ghorza leans in again, projecting her voice to make sure the microphone catches. "Because it's hot. Duh."
The announcer bites his lip, refocusing. "The rules of tonight's competition are simple. No weapons. Axiom generated or otherwise. Including improvised weapons. The fight will continue until one fighter can no longer continue, as determined either by pin, knock out, exhaustion or one fighter yielding. There will be no maiming or intentionally lethal blows practiced. All other holds, strikes, martial arts techniques, axiom fueled or otherwise are legal. Are the fighters ready?"
"Let's do this. Wouldn't want anyone to get bored waiting for us."
Ghorza strikes a pose, waving to her mercs to get a chorus of cheers and battle cries from them.
"Come on, let's get this show on the road, I have a date with a bed that's in serious need of breaking for my victory lap."
"In that case... Ladies and gentlemen, leeeeeeet's get ready to ruuuuuuuuuuumble!"