-Ruufarrl-

Ruufarrl scratched his chin as he cycled through the security cameras on his terminal. He could see that preparation for the next delivery cycle was well underway. Each of the large twin cargo bays was a cluster of activity. This was the perfect time to keep an eye on things while hidden from view. In his experience, things didn't go missing when nobody was working the bays nearly as much as they did when everyone was busy in the bays. It was far easier to take advantage of everyone's distractions than it was to fool the registration system that logged when and where crewmates used their access keys to open doors.

He kept his terminal display split into four views, one large view and three smaller ones lined up on the side. He cycled the large view often, picking different areas of the ship to view. The small ones, however, he kept locked in their views. Currently one was of the command bridge and one of the engine room, both incredibly important areas to keep monitored for trouble. The third one though, was of a particular corner in the cargo bays that showed a marked refrigerated container.

Ruufarrl tightened his lips and sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time so far that day as he looked at the container yet again. "Don't worry, youngblood. I will see you home again. Your spirit will hunt with your ancestors, and will not become lost in the Fields Between."

Shaking himself from his musing he turned his attention back to the cycling camera, "All busy and crowded...except one."

He watched as Conrad went about work in his sector all alone again. He knew the human was having a lot of difficulty lately due to the crew trying to keep as far away from him as possible. His mood had been getting darker and he wasn't as outspoken as he had been before the attack. He thought on the differences and similarities between their people as he watched the unsuspecting youngblood.

Humans appeared by all observations to be solidly social creatures. This was reinforced through what Kiiroth had reported and his own talks with Conrad. It started as a survival need, but never left them. Even to this day, if forced to choose they would often choose the preservation family and clan over anything else, or at least fight to find a way to protect them. There were of course varying levels of this behavior, but overall this was true across the board. Most especially on the Human Frontier, where they still needed to work together to thrive on alien planets.

This behavior was an interesting mirror to the Ruulothi, where clan was the most important part of their social structure. Few but the most vile of Broken Fangs would dare to allow harm to come to the Clan. Because of this social structure, it appeared that both of their races have difficulty when isolated, with notable exceptions of course. It definitely explained Conrad's withdrawal and depression.

This also held true for the Ruulothi. Sheathed Claws like himself that lasted to truly fulfill their assigned duties were few and far between. Most could not handle being isolated from family and clan for so long, and would seek some way to fall in battle. The long periods of isolation from home and family wore on even the strongest of souls. Some even claimed they could hear the Fields Between calling to them. Active suicide was an anathema to Ruulothi, considered to be the ultimate weakness of a character devoid of honor and worth. But in seeking death through action, though a very fine line apart from active suicide, was accepted, even lauded. To find one's end with action was to prove one's worth to the end and secured one's place in the Great Hunt as long as their life deeds were honorable and worthy.

He supposed this made him the exception that proved the rule. Then again, not very many hated stagnation as he did. Most Ruulothi were hidebound to traditions and would cling to them with tooth and claw. He sought to change this. He knew that the Ruulothi would need to adapt, grow and reach beyond where they were now if they wished to secure a place for themselves in the future. If they didn't want to fade into obscurity or be consumed by the endless Bureaucracy of the GalCom.

This, more than anything else, is why he had become so enamored of humanity. They did nothing BUT adapt. They still held their traditions, but they knew that they didn't live set in stone and ore. Nothing and no one was going to help them if they didn't help themselves first. These were admirable traits, if they could be focused.

"That, and the fact that they have proven so surprisingly adept and flexible in combat. But then again, one subject, one incident, does not prove anything. I need to see more, need to learn more about them from first hand experience."

Ruufarrl looked at the message indicator on the terminal. "No, we will not receive the download until we dock."

His report to the First Claw was far earlier than would have been expected, if they even expected it at all considering the standard for Sheathed Claws. Even so, he knew that he had included enough information to raise hackles and cause some bared fangs. A reply would be sent, he simply needed patience.

Beedoo, beedoo.

Ruufarrl snorted in distracted amusement as the chime went off. He had some experience with data relay terminals due to his time serving the clan, so he had programmed in an alarm to sound when the Captain accessed certain doors.

This chime signaled that the Captain had left the bridge, so Rufarrl cycled the cameras to find his location, tracking him as he moved through the ship. A few camera changes later and a wide feral grin grew on his face. The Captain was coming his way. "So it begins again."

He did so enjoy this game that he had created.

Ruufarrl snatched his work harness from the locker next to his desk, slid on his arm terminal, and slipped out of the room. He would track the Captain using the arm terminal and stay just ahead of him. This infuriated the Captain to no end, who thought that the Security Chief was just dodging him. He was right, but Ruufarrl would never admit that. He always said he was conducting rounds, which was true, they were just specifically NOT in the area that the Captain was in. He would keep at this until the Captain grew frustrated enough to return to the bridge and summon him through the Ship Com. The game was an engaging experience, one the he felt kept his senses and skills sharp enough to Hunt, and one that allowed him to avoid the incessant droning and complaints from the Captain while getting away with being a burr in his fur. No matter which way he looked at it, he won.

Taking one last look at his arm terminal to verify positions, Ruufarrl headed around the next corner to his left. Not ten seconds later the Captain rounded a corner from the opposite direction and headed to the Security Office, finding it empty. A frustrated sigh echoed in the hallway as the Captain grumbled to himself before wandering off in the same general direction Ruufarrl had just went.

______________________________________________________________________________

The last part of the trip went smoothly. There were no more attacks, no issues with paperwork or credentials, no obvious signs of any theft, nor any problems between crewmembers. To his surprise, Ruufarrl also found Conrad to be in a far better mood than he had been. He was no longer dour and spoke easily during their lunchtime conversations.

Ruufarrl could see that the youngblood still felt the burden of the cold shoulders the rest of the crew gave him, but he was no longer suffering as he had been.

"Good. Resilience in the face of adversity is a prized skill."

He heard the CLANG as the docking clamps released the ship, signaling that they were underway to their next destination. None had wanted shore leave, nor had they needed to deal with any hiring this time around, so their turnover time was but a single local day. He was completing a final sweep of the ship, checking for stowaways and anything that seemed out of place before they left the gravity well of the planet. There were many places to hide things on this ship, and he was determined to check every one that he knew about.

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Several hours later he was satisfied that nothing unexpected had occurred during the cargo exchange and began to wander his way back to his office, checking in on the vital areas of the ship again as he passed through. One could never be too careful because in space, or anywhere really, complacency kills.

He had another goal now, one that awaited him in his office. Now that the job in port was completed, the Captain had released the mail downloads to the crew. He kept them sequestered while in port to prevent workers from becoming distracted during the critical cargo exchange phase. Any accidents then would cost him considerably. Ruufarrl was hoping to find a response to his message home.

The return to his office went smoothly, and all critical workers were performing their assigned jobs. Arriving at his office he checked the external terminal logs to see if anyone had opened the door in his absence, finding nothing he went on to do a quick inspection and found everything just as he had left it. Finally, he allowed himself to relax as he sat down in his chair and take a deep breath.

Now ready, Ruufarrl activated his office terminal and checked his mail. He found what he was looking for buried in the status reports and requests from the captain. A single VIM message sent from home.

Still not entirely sure how this was going to play out, he opened the message and listened. Then played it again, and finally a third time while reading the translation on screen.

"Well now, it looks like things are going to be getting interesting from here on out. It seems that my information had the desired effect."

Satisfied he understood what had been said, he put together a message for Conrad and sent it. "And now, I wait."

______________________________________________________________________________

"You wanted to see me Chief?"

"Hrmm, absolutely, come in and sit." Ruufarrl paused as Conrad did as instructed. "You had seemed to be in a better mood lately, youngblood. But now you are wary again, did something happen?"

"I, yeah. I was, but...wait, Am I not in trouble?"

Ruufarrl's brow furrowed as he tilted his head at the sudden twist in the conversation, "No, why would you think that?" Conrad's visible confusion and wariness was riding the line between amusing and concerning. "Now why would he be concerned about getting into trouble." he wondered, then cast his eye to the narrow storage locker against the wall."No, I think I know what that is about at least."

"Because you wanted to see me? No, wait... OK. I am sorry sir. For humans, when a superior sends them a message saying that they want to meet with no extra details, it usually means that they are in some kind of trouble. As in, the career and lifestyle ending kind."

Ruufarrl let out a deep rolling chuckle, almost a baritone purr, at this. "You humans are so strange. My message meant simply what it said. We Ruulothi do not hide meaning behind emptiness and fancy words. We simply say what we desire."

"Well, mostly" he thought as he remembered his game with the Captain, "But that was different. We CAN, we just refuse to unless related to matters of the Hunt."

He shook his head as he saw the human practically melt in relaxation. "We still have much to learn from each other. Such cultural quirks have already caused trouble between our peoples. These are things we simply must figure out."

He raised his head to look Conrad in the eye again, "No, you are not in trouble, but back to my original point. You seem as though you have been handling the rejection from your crewmates better lately. All is well now?"

He watched the youngblood take in a deep breath before answering. "Yeah, I have been doing better lately. I have been thinking things over again, and Kivan opened up a little bit. It won't change anything in the long run, but it’s nice to know that I've not been completely cast out."

"Oh? It is good that you made a strong enough impression to enable some of them to overcome their concerns. It speaks well of you."

"I don't really know about that, but speaking of their concerns, there is something I wanted to ask you."

Ruufarrl picked up his chin and sniffed the air in response to this, "What are your thoughts?"

"Well, I've been noticing some behavioral patterns and I'm not really sure if there is something else to it. But... Why does it seem like there are two groups of Galactics? You have yourself and the Command Crew and a few others who don't seem to have reacted in the same manner as the general workers. Is there some sort of hierarchy or caste system that I am unaware of?"

Ruufarrl's eyebrows rose as he blinked in surprise and sat back in his chair."Ahh. That is... highly perceptive of you. You are the first newcomer I have heard of that noticed this on their own."

Ruufarrl's respect for the boy grew daily. While he knew from his previous talks with the youngblood that he wasn't representative of the entirety of Humanity, he was, in Ruufarrl's personal estimation, representative of the best of the Frontiersmen and Colonists, those that live on the bleeding edge of his race and the ones that he felt the Ruulothi could identify most with."If only we had been as perceptive ourselves on first contact." he thought to himself.

"This... behavioral difference. It is not something based upon classifications or manufactured systems. It is something that is far deeper and older. Something that only came about with time." He paused a moment to make sure the boy was listening. He needn't have bothered, but it was an ingrained habit from his time as a First Claw and an instructor at the Academies.

"What you are seeing is the product of experience that seeps its way into a people's culture. Those crewmembers that you have noticed as being more capable, the Command Crew and others, they are among the oldest signatories of the Accords. They are the ones that created the Galactic Accords and built the GalCom as we know it today. Because of this, their communities have experienced war, suffering and loss over and over again at the hands of others. As well as the rebuilding and Golden days between. Races born to combat like ours see the mental escapism of cowering in fear as a weakness, as something that provides no benefit, and as something that has the capacity to cause immense harm to others when exhibited the wrong time. We actively strive to be better than that in order to survive and thrive. The... Old Ones we shall call them. Have learned the benefit of an emergency professional composure through time and suffering. Though they are now buffered by races such as ours who can stand in stead of them. The New Ones have yet to learn this lesson. This is another reason why raids and conflicts between the New Ones occur most often at the edges of GalCom Space, because that is where the easiest pickings are.

Now, there are always exceptions, as with anything else. But the General rule for hiring command positions is to choose from either the Old Ones, or those who have already proven themselves somehow."

"That, certainly explains some things I guess. But how do these races get to the point of space travel without ever learning how to deal with adversity?"

Ruufarrl chuffed at this, "My people have a saying, 'You never know which day you are going to be the prey until you step outside.' You need to remember, among other GalCom races there are some that have come up as the dominant species on their planet, without being predators themselves and without any sort of natural predation against them. How would they learn these hard lessons then?"

The youngblood contemplated this for a time, "I don't know. I guess... when they come across someone that wants what they have and don't care about how they get it? But then, they wouldn't be able to defend themselves, would they? So, how would these races survive their first hostile contact?"

Ruufarrl nodded sagely at the questions, "Good points. The answer is a fairly savage, if pointed reminder of both poor timing and GalCom policy. If they make that hostile contact without ever finding GalCom, they likely don't survive. But, if they manage to contact a member of GalCom, their Homeworld is afforded protection. But only their Homeworld, until such a time as they become full signatories at least. Then any colonies they found or fight over rights for will fall under GalCom protection and mediation... Which usually means my people or a few select others, maybe even eventually your own, are sent to protect them or fight for them."

"You don't have the option to refuse? That seems... Authoritarian."

"No, we do not. Not unless it would actively be harming ourselves or our own citizens. Then things get... mud stained. But, such is the nature of the Accords. Armed Conflict and War in the GalCom, at least amongst signatories, is so rare as to be almost non-existent. New signatories have no need to even learn to protect themselves, as the GalCom will provide for them, by sending out the warrior races. So even among those who have been a part of the community the longest, there are few who have truly seen violence as no single entity has yet been foolish enough to challenge the conglomerate that is the Galactic Community. The GalCom has turned their power struggles to other, less violent means. Less violent, but potentially no less destructive."

"Less destructive than outright war?"

"Which destroys more? A brief war for colonization rights, or the 'protection deal' that puts an entire race into unbreakable debt to another?"

He watched as Conrad lowered his eyes and parsed the new information. He had given the youngblood a lot of information to think about, some of which he doubted even the boy's leaders really knew. Still, it was important information, and set the tone for dealing with and living in the GalCom. It was going to be information that he needed in the near future. Politics was a dirty business, regardless of where you came from. More so when dealing with the GalCom.

At this point, Ruufarrl was studying Conrad to find an opportune time to breach his next topic, the one he had originally called Conrad in for. His mane and nape fur prickled and shifted as he thought. It was going to be a test of the youngblood, and how he responded could easily change the outcome of things. But, before he could find his words, Conrad spoke first.

"So, there is something I wanted to tell you about." The youngblood had suddenly turned fidgety. He knew this signaled that the human was unsure of how the information would be received. The boy was nervous.

"Oh? Continue."

"I, uh... I am going to end my service at the end of my tour." The boy hesitated before pushing onwards. But now that he had started, there was no turning back. "The more I think about it, the more I realize that this situation isn't likely to change. That my presence here, regardless of my work capacity, is only hurting the others in the long run. It would be more selfish of me and damaging to stay." He paused again before taking another steadying breath.

"Considering that, I am unsure of how this next part should be addressed. I, um. I heard back from Master Silva. She said she is expecting you and is looking forward to meeting you."

Well, this was unexpected.

Ruufarrl sank back into his chair and clicked his teeth at this turn of events. Unexpected, but not uncalled for. The decision, regardless of its ramifications for Ruufarrl's plans, spoke well of the youngblood's maturity. Few were the Ruulothi youngbloods that could put aside their own personal pride to see the greater hunt. He let out a soft growl as he sat thinking, excited at the prospect of meeting this teacher of his, and mulling the options he had available to make things work. Options that were suddenly becoming very limited.

Suddenly, the seed of an idea started to bloom in his mind.

Unexpected, but not unsalvageable.

He grinned to himself before addressing the youngblood, his mind now made up.

"We will discuss that more later, but I don't foresee your departure being an obstacle. For now... I believe you have been wanting to learn about the Bloodclaws?"