-Conrad-

Conrad opened his eyes to murky darkness as a warning tone sounded. He sighed as he stretched and gained his bearings, feeling the chill of metal plate and the background hum of machinery through the wall he was laying against seep in and sharpen his senses. The tone sounded again and this time he groaned in response before rolling off his bunk and hitting the lighting sensor, momentarily blinding himself as he forgot to shut his eyes against the impending brightness. The tone sounded for a third time and he sent a drowsy slap towards the offending sound, scoring a hit on the info terminal that was sounding the wake up alarm for his shift, silencing it.

He stripped and stepped into the sanitation pod, bracing himself for the cleaning cycle. Despite having served on the ship for around a year he had yet to get used to the sonic cleaning system. It just felt... grating... wrong... off to him, like one of those dreams where you KNEW something was there and hunting you, but couldn't find any sign of it. He knew it wasn't supposed to be possible to feel or hear it, but it still set him on edge in a way that felt somehow worse than sine wave emitters. Though, through trial and error, he had found a way to make it at least tolerable. He closed his eyes, plugged his ears and opened his mouth after hitting the start button, much like one would do to avoid the worst effects of a stun grenade. The first time he had used the sani-pod he found out the hard way that gritting his teeth against the vibrations made things far worse. The side effect of his current technique was that his mouth tasted like ozone for about an hour after for some reason. Despite this discomfort, he felt this was a fair trade for not feeling like he was going to be vibrated to dust.

He REALLY missed taking REAL showers. But this was Space, and clean water was a precious resource, not to be wasted or squandered. So, sanitation pods it was.

Overall, he knew he had no right to complain. All crew had their own small cabin after all. If this had been a human ship, they would likely be hot bunked in communal sleeping areas with tiny bunk bays and no real chance at privacy. Also, the food was both varied and pretty good. If the sani-pods were his biggest complaint, then he considered it to be an overwhelming win.

At least, that was how it HAD been. He sighed again and slumped a bit as the cleaning cycle completed and his thoughts turned to musing about the recent past.

It had been almost three weeks now since the ship had been attacked. The crew had stayed away from him after the fight, at the time he hadn't thought anything of it, it seemed a reasonable reaction to the events after all. The ship had been held over in port longer than they would have normally stayed to get paperwork and investigations cleared. This served to get the Captain antsy to move as every hour he stayed idle he lost out on revenue, and that was simply unacceptable for him. They were now almost in port to their next destination, and Conrad was still having issues with the crew avoiding him.

Jjatha was one of the few that had made the effort to speak with him, an effort that he deeply appreciated. Unfortunately, the Captain had lately tasked Jjatha with going over chart after chart to try and find a way to make up for the time they had lost after the attack, so he had been unable to speak with the Verach for almost a week now. The navigator had been attempting to work as the middleman between Conrad and the rest of the crew in order to assuage any fears the rest of the crew might have. He had been making some progress, but with his being tied up in the Command module things had returned to their previous state for most of the crew.

Conrad really couldn't blame them, he was plenty intelligent and self aware enough to realize that they were just scared. They saw him as a ticking bomb, or maybe as a wolf in sheep's clothing. This person, who they had been happily interacting with without a care, who had seemed to be one of them, had suddenly and spectacularly shown a completely different side. Conrad's actions during the fight, though they had saved the crew from fates worse than simple death, were something that they only expected from certain distinctly predatory races.

To them, he was no longer simply Maintenance and Cargo Technician Conrad McLaughlin... he was a threat. Not only that, but he was a threat that had already gotten them to lower their guard around him, who had worked his way into their circles without detection. His capacity for eating meat aside, there were after all a few other GalCom races that were omnivorous and not outright predators that could eat meat, he had shown that he had a predator's capacity for violence without the outward signs of that capacity.

That was what truly scared them. The idea that he could turn at any moment and kill with whatever happened to be at hand, and do it well.

Conrad shook himself again and focused on getting ready. He grabbed his clothes from the under-bunk storage and began to dress. But, try as he might, he couldn't stop the lingering darkness in his mind from returning.

He knew it, he understood it, but he just couldn't simply get over it. Their giving him the cold shoulder, though understandable as a part of the initial shock, grated on him. He was having a damn hard time reconciling having become a pariah for saving them. The more he thought about it, the more he alone and homesick he felt. He wasn't asking for accolades or recognition; he just didn't want to be cast out.

He looked down into the storage that was still open and thought to himself, "Speaking of recognition."

He reached down and pulled out the Mantle that Ruufarrl had given him. It was a beautiful piece of work that was cut with geometric lines and edges. The fabric looked to be something similar to silk and had a black background with a crimson red border and a golden spun rope as the belt. On the upper front corner was a metallic, blood wine red, embroidered symbol of four claw marks set inside a octagonal polygon with four long parallels and four shorter diagonal parallels. He still didn't know everything that the Bloodclaw Mantle stood for or meant, Ruufarrl for some reason had not explained it fully. It was something that he was going to need to spend some time researching on the GalNet. He did know that it was unprecedented given the current state of Human-Ruulothi politics, and that it was something to not take lightly. Not only did the Ruulothi not do anything without reason, but they were a honor and tradition bound species, and making light of something they took stock in would give mortal insult.

Not only that, but Ruufarrl had proven to be more than worthy of respect and trust, just as much as Kiiroth had. The two of them had spoken at length about the encounter and the potential ramifications of it. Ruufarrl was the one that had given some much needed context to the crew's reaction and had encouraged Conrad to not worry overmuch about it, it was simply the ways of the Galactics. Knowing and doing though, were proving to be two very different beasts to tackle.

If it hadn't been for Jjatha and Ruufarrl, he knew he would have gone to a dark place mentally. He paused as he shut the Mantle back into the storage cubby and cocked his head at his own inner monologue. Now that he thought about it, it was possible that the crew was picking up on his darker mood as well. Conrad nodded at his own line of thought and drew a tight, almost grim smile. Maybe he could put in a little more effort himself. Relationships are two-way streets after all.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Morning self-doubt and therapy session complete, Conrad stood straight and steeled himself with a stretch and deep breath, then touched the door release and left to get breakfast and lose himself in work.

______________________________________________________________________________

Conrad had come to a concrete conclusion. "Being ostracized isn't ALL bad, I suppose," he thought as he moved a couple more smaller containers to clear a large container for offloading. "It certainly has made it easier to move around in the bay with no one wanting to come near me."

His personal work efficiency had actually improved under the current conditions. Despite his best efforts to try and smooth things over with his crewmates, he hadn't made much headway in the days before they made port. The Foreman spoke to him normally, even if she was a bit curt when she did, but then again, that was her job. The Gantry Tech, Kivan, worked with him just fine and spoke to him while on shift. He was also willing to eat with him if Jjatha was there, but otherwise wouldn't really mix with him when off shift for fear of ostracizing himself, and hadn't said anything about the attack to him. Conrad really didn't have any other way of describing the way the others were acting outside of Herd Mentality. He was sure there was some sort of Scientific term for it, but hell if he had paid enough attention in school to remember it. As it was he had taken to posting a notice of where he would be working in the bay so that there would be no confusion or accidents caused by him showing up suddenly. This served double purpose, as it meant that the rest of the loaders could have a peace of mind that allowed them to work normally, something the Captain had started to complain about before Conrad got the idea to post his work assignment.

The actions of the crew were starting to make him wonder now about the nature of the Galactics in general. The more he thought about it the more he was thinking that there was some sort of hierarchy or caste system in place. He had never read about anything of the sort, but there was certainly a distinct difference in the ways that some of the Galactics were handling things. Predatory species and Security personnel aside, there was a clear difference in the way that the workers reacted and the way that the Captain, Command Crew and Supervisors handled things. He wouldn't exactly call it a difference in Mental Conditioning, though that may well be a part of it. It would take extensive training to get people to react in the same way like that, extensive training he knew the stingy Galactic Bureaucracy wouldn't bother to pay out for. So it had to be something else. Something possibly cultural, or maybe even something deeper than that. Conrad hadn't heard of any GalCom species actively practicing genetic and psychological manipulations, but it couldn't be ruled out.

He racked his brain while he worked to come up with some sort of plausible solution, but he couldn't find a Silver Bullet answer. Finally, he shrugged and put it in a mental box to ask Ruufarrl about at a later time. Maybe on this topic he could get a straight answer out of the increasingly, and smugly, cryptic cat. The Chief still wouldn't answer him about anything concerning the Mantle. Ruufarrl didn't seem like he was intentionally hiding information from him, he knew it was important and seemed to understand Conrad's need to know. It appeared to Conrad more like he wasn't answering because he didn't yet know part of the answer himself. Which was strange considering the Chief was the one that gave it to him in the first place. That didn't stop the Ruulothi from taking some amusement from Conrad's frustrations on the topic, as he liked to gently tweak that little dagger every so often.

Conrad chuckled to himself and shook his head. "All in due time, I suppose." There wasn't any real need to worry about it, it was just a burning curiosity for now. He continued his work with a little more pep than he had been feeling for the last few weeks. He had thought some more about what to do, and he realized that he was coming up on the end of his tour. In a month from now they would return to Nueva Rios, and he would have the opportunity to end his service tour, or re-up. This realization lifted the weight he had been carrying as he knew that, one way or another, he would soon have options. With the experience from this tour under his belt he should be able to easily sign on to another vessel, or maybe even get hired out to a star port somewhere. He didn't want to settle in and stay at Nueva Rios just yet, he still felt the need to explore and see new things.

"Loho, Conrad."

The unexpected voice in his ear made him jump and lose his train of thought. Thankfully the claws on his exo-rig were locked in place until told otherwise, so at least he didn't drop the containers he was holding. He had a brief moment of confusion before he realized who it was that had called for him, and who was chuckling at his startled display.

"Hey! Kivan! You need to warn me before you go whispering sweet nothings in my ear."

"Aww, and here I thought we had something special. You certainly are jumpy today. What is nipping at your heels?"

"I.... I was just thinking about what to do next month."

"...Next Month?" There was a long pause before he heard a sigh com over the comm. "I see."

Kivan sounded...hesitant? Conrad started to reply, but then waited patiently for his coworker to organize his own thoughts. But when the response finally came, it was short.

"I am... not sure what to say to that."

"No worries. Just trying to plan ahead is all. Get all my ducks in a row."

“Ducks? What are ducks?”

Conrad laughed in spite of the tension he was feeling, "They are a type of small swimming avian. It's just a phrase, it means to get things prepared before making a move."

"Then why not say that instead? I swear, you humans make language so much more difficult than it needs to be."

"Hey, not my fault. My native language mugged all the other regional languages in a back alley to make up for its deficiencies. Things being difficult to understand is just par for the course."

"Par for?... Never mind, I don't want to know, my head is hurting already. Listen, there has been a change in the loading schedule. It appears that the items in CC-91874 fetch better prices here, so the Captain wants us to offload that container here, and pick up replacements in the next system at a lower price to complete the original order. You are going to need to switch over to Sector 4 to facilitate that, I can finish things here."

Conrad closed his eyes and sighed in frustration at the Captain's money grubbing antics, then looked up at the Gantry Cab as it moved silently overhead. "Alright. I will finish this stack then head on over, send me the location data. And... could you direct anyone working there to a different section? I don't want to ruin their day."

"I... yes, I can do that."

The line went quiet as Conrad went about finishing his work. He thought it meant the conversation was over, but then it opened again.

"I know that things have been, different, since the attack. I cannot really speak on why other than to say it is... complicated. I do not really know if I can even explain it, and if I do not say this now, I may not get a chance or be able to later. Just... I am sorry for not being able to stand aside like you do. I thank you, as would my family. I did not want to be eaten."

For a brief moment, Conrad felt that pit he had been covering and ignoring yawn open again. Except this time, instead of pulling him in, it overflowed. He shut as quickly as it opened, but took a moment to gather himself. He again felt something that he had not realized was tight relax. He wasn't alone after all.

"I understand...and thank you, for saying something." He collected his thoughts for a moment before smiling maliciously...it was game on again.

"But I don't think you needed to worry about being eaten."

"Truly? How so?"

"Because you are too stringy, if anything they would have used you as floss."

"Wha-Hey-What!? I will have you know that I am a picture perfect Taladian."

Conrad laughed as he looked up at the Gantry again to see Kivan shaking his head and waving him on. "Yeah, and you are still a bean pole."

"Beh. Get your ass over to Sector 4 you heathen."

His mood suddenly much lighter, Conrad did exactly that.

______________________________________________________________________________

After his workday was over, Conrad spent his allotted time in the Galley. He saw Kivan there, and the two of them shared a covert acknowledgement. It was a little thing, but it reinforced the feeling that he wasn't completely cast out, that there were still people who recognized him as who he was. Jjatha was still unable to go to the galley at his normal time, so Conrad would simply have to settle for what he had now.

He ate quickly before returning to his cabin for the night. He got ready for bed and took out an old-fashioned paper book to read for a few minutes. As he lay there relaxing he heard a chime from the info terminal. He looked over at it bemusedly before realizing what it meant, they had connected to the Gal Net and all mail had been forwarded to the crew.

Conrad put his book on the bed and pulled the attached stool out of the terminal before sitting down to read his mail. Scanning through the menus he found that he had three messages. Two were VIMs from home. One from his parents, and the second from Master Silva. His skin tightened and his body chilled as a blood pressure surge released a small amount of adrenaline. "Well, shit. Looks like we are going to find out if we can visit...and if she is going to kill me next time she sees me. My parents are one thing, but at least I am likely to survive their wrath."

But the third message was only text, one that came from within the ship itself. "Wait...Security Chief?" Conrad selected the message from Ruufarrl and immediately felt a different kind of chill.

The message said simply:

We need to meet.