By the end of the negotiations the leaders of the two ships have finally decided on an acceptable exchange of crew. There seems to be a cultural element to the whole thing, something harkening back to their distant past.
Nobody I ask can give me a solid answer, but they all promise it is incredibly important. Something about gene pools? Nonsense, they don't even have any spawning pools onboard. I should know, I was in charge of rebuilding while they had been playing around on Honus.
We end up keeping Marta Spere. I think she's happy to stay and see the completion of Kalibern Station, after all the work she's put into making it habitable. She even brought back some notoriously hardy decorative plants, most of which now grace the entrance building. We're rather lucky to have her.
One of the plants somehow made it into the hydroponics bay, where its wilting form is tended lovingly by Ship-Father Tollek. The metallic clang of his shears fills the air as he trims away the browning tips of its long leaves.
In the workshop Teah sits at a long table. She's busy assembling a set of dice for Nett. He promised her a can of paint for the set, an even darker shade of green for her armor.
The two newest members of our crew, Third Operatives Dunc Willon, Jr. and Spen Dondric, are carrying their possessions to the room they'll be sharing. They are going through the main corridor when they pass Vin Tussa, also carrying his things.
"Going to be late to the Niala's Cabin? You better hurry it along," taunts Dondric, a full ubit taller than the younger Vin.
Dunc laughs derisively and aims a kick two ubits behind Vin. "Pa's a fool for taking your scrawny hide."
Vin tosses his armload of clothes and weaponry down and charges at the cocky Dunc. "You're the fool. I'm worth both of you losers and your pa knows it." He tackles the larger Dunc, bringing him to the deck. He gets one good hit in before Spen drags him off from behind, pinning both of Vin's arms.
What follows is less a fight than a beating. As soon as Vin challenges the two hoodlums, I alert the security detail. They don't get there quickly enough to prevent the two on one fight, but they may have saved the young officer's life.
They find him unconscious, being held upright by Spen while Dunc drives blow after blow into his battered body.
Young Vin Tussa will be spending some time with the Cabin's medical staff. Rumor in the crew lounge is that after his recovery Vin is to be trained as a fighter pilot. Meanwhile, the duo who battered him are reassigned to the Tserri quarters, where they'll be spending time when Gelly isn't giving them what he calls 'flexibility and response time' training.
"Runt nearly broke my jaw," complains Dunc to his flunky. Seated on his bunk, one in a line of ten, the Operative rubs his swollen jaw carefully while Spen lays atop his own bunk reading a trashy novel.
"Hits harder than you'd think, huh?" He taps his tablet and keeps reading, answering absently. "Good riddance."
So focused are they on their own misery that they don't notice the approaching crewmember.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Don't you two have drills to run? Well, get to it," demands a four-armed figure in black armor with white spiral patterns.
Both spring to their feet, tablet dropped in haste. Nodding and stuttering they hastily run from the barracks. Another Tserri enters before the door shuts.
"What got them in such a hurry, Jenla?" The blue of her armored suit is dark at the bottom and light at the top, with streamlined alien forms adding spots of color.
Jenla smiles wickedly, "They're late to drills, Zanna. Gelly's going to have them endurance training."
"More high gravity running?" As she strips off her blue vacuum armor Zanna's lustrous white fur is revealed. "I was limping for two days last time he got me to 'drill'."
"Yep. If ye wants to get tough ye runs," Jenla says in her best Gelly impression. Both of them erupt in laughter.
---
Weapons Operative Drop stands in the exercise area. He's set the room to triple standard gravity, as well as removing one fifth of the oxygen. Replacing it is a complex mixture of organic compounds he calls frool stink. He breathes deeply, a look of satisfaction on his weathered gray face.
His two victims, however, are panting as they laboriously stagger around the perimeter of the large room. Gelly walks casually over to them, shaking his head slowly.
"I've told ye already, deep, slow breathing. It hurts, aye, good. Battle hurts. Mos, one tenth current gravity, please."
Gelly's posture barely changes but the two younger officers almost throw themselves backwards. An overreaction to the sudden lack of downward pull. Once on the ground the two begin scratching themselves with wild abandon.
"None 'o that, now. Five more laps and then we'll head to Rojer's office. If ye can't take a wee distraction like that how d'ye expect to survive when things is really tough?" He paces slowly beside them as he lectures. "The Cabin may stick to safer routes, but out here we're on the fringes 'o the map. We're drawing the blasted thing! Anythin' could come in to this system, and it's the two of ye we'll be trustin' to keep the planet safe."
Small red welts are now visible to my cameras, covering the exposed flesh of all three. Uhgun will need to be alerted after their session completes. The whole area will need to be decontaminated.
The pair of troublemakers bounce up in the reduced pull and begin running as hard as they can, hurrying to complete their assigned torture.
"Mos Denn, I'd like it if ye could start raisin' the gravity again, slow like. Only two and a half times this, I think," he announces. I happily comply, enjoying my part in the lesson.
Spen is the first to stumble, leg coming down with more force than he intended and twisting under him. Dunc trips over him and takes his own spill.
"If this is givin' ye troubles, next session may just kill ye," complains Gelly loudly as he helps them to regain their footing. "Ye have to always save back a bit, for when ye need a quick dodge, or to allow ye some flexibility under changing conditions. I made no secret of it. Ye both heard me tellin' him to keep raisin' the gravity."
Dunc shakes his head angrily, a scowl on his young face and crest standing fully upright. "You talk stupid."
Barking a laugh, Gelly wipes a tear from his eye. "Aye, lad. And yer no the first to say it."
Frustrated but unwilling to push the wiry older officer any further, Dunc starts his laps again. Spen mutters angrily but joins his partner.
They run more carefully this time, getting a feel for the steadily increasing gravity. As they feel their weight increase, the suffering pair slow their pace. Their skin pales as blood is pulled from the surface to power tiring muscles.
Nodding his approval Gelly yells out to them, "Good, that's the way. Yer almost done! Go, go, go!"
Gravity returns to normal as they finish the final lap, and they stagger slowly another thirty ubits forward. Gelly smiles to see them finally taking his advice seriously.
"Let's go and see about these rashes now," he announces cheerily, leading the way to the medical bay.
I seal the room off behind them, and almost purge the atmosphere before deciding to hold on to the frool stink. It could be useful later. There should be some spare gas canisters laying around somewhere. Flipping through the cameras, I contact Uhgun.