Gelly bends drunkenly over, emitting a high-pitched squealing noise from behind himself. At the same time, he begins slapping one hand against his neck in a fast rhythmic beat, fingers moving in a gray blur. Covering his mouth with the other hand he makes a deep wet noise into his palm, akin to some rude bodily function.

Ship-Father Tollek and Operative Vren roll on the carpeted floor of the officers' lounge, clutching their sides in evident pain.

"Thaaat's," gasps Jim, "not, not right! Both ends!" His wheezing become incomprehensible at this point.

Vren climbs slowly to his feet, still panting uncontrollably. Gelly staggers behind the bar and begins tapping at the keypad.

"If that's your idea of singing," Vren says, trying valiantly to catch his breath, "then you do not need any more to drink."

"I know that song," I say calmly through the speaker built into the bar. "You said something that roughly translates to 'meat over there, bring it here'."

Gelly's head snaps up. The other two look confused, not understanding the language spoken by the Southern Tribals.

"Nice trick, Gel," Tollek says, finally regaining his composure. "You only talk like that when you've been drinking in the woods. How'd you do it with your mouth shut?" Tollek squints at his cousin, swaying drunkenly in his seat.

"Which clan were ye with?" Gelly's voice is cold, and there's murder in his eyes. He sets the bottle down on the table in front of Jim and sits down.

The suspicious squint on Tollek's face is replaced with a lopsided grin as he spots the bottle. Vren sets three glasses down and grabs the alcohol, pouring for the group.

"I spent half my life killing tribals, and most of the rest being sewn back together. How about yourself, Operative?"

"That's an old wound," he replies, still angry but controlled by an iron will. He drains his glass and slides it over to Vren. "Fill her up, rookie."

He gets a sour look from the Tserri, but a full glass is slid back to him. Gelly nods and takes another drink.

"Gel was born on one of those breeding colonies," Jim supplies helpfully, earning his own sour look.

"Aye, me parents were part 'o some failed colony," he admits. "Me mum, Jim's aunt herself, was alone with me when we was captured. We was put with the rest 'o the family again at the village. Set their camp up right on the remains 'o the little base."

"Tenebra Three. It isn't in any records," Jim adds. "The Imperium doesn't like to admit it ever existed." He stares ruefully at his empty glass.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"The chief, he's got some kind 'o power. Breathe his scent, his pheromones, stay in his presence too long, something." Gelly waves his arm as he speculates. "After a while, ye just want to do as makes him happy. He sings his orders, and the tribe jumps to obey."

Vren pours more of the orange liquid for each of them but adds some of the juice he and Jim were drinking earlier.

"Whatever the case, I was raised with his son. They're all male, make more by buddin', see. Little blighter and I was rivals more'n friends, but we learned together. Pa was stabbed by some squiver thing while I was still too small to know him." He stops and takes another drink. "I've me a sister somewhere, other side 'o some magic door. Her 'n Mum both were marched off, different colony needed females. Da's in some hospital somewhere, they keep what's left 'o him locked away."

Silence fills the room as Gelly relives old memories.

"A magic door?" Vren's curiousity causes him to ask, after Gelly stops talking. "Like from some children's story?"

Gelly nods seriously, the faraway look on his face evaporating. "Aye, that's how they get from world to world. They walk between the stars. Some trick the chiefs do when enough 'o them get together. Nobody else is allowed near 'em when they set one up. No harder to believe than a magic rock that makes the ship go." He shrugs and sets his glass down.

"I was part of the scouting team that found him," Jim says quietly. "He fought as fiercely as any other, trying to protect his chief. I've still got the scar," he says and pulls up his dress shirt, revealing a long white welt raised across his abdomen. "Almost killed me before we managed to subdue him. The medic had fits trying to put me back together."

"Once they put the big gluttonous fella down, the rest 'o the tribe went berserk. I still don't remember much 'o that night."

"We found Gel and four others. After we managed to identify them, they were shipped back to their closest living relatives. In Gel's case that was my mother."

A fond smile lights up the Weapons Operative's face. "Bless her. She'd switch me 'til I couldn't walk and give me sweets after."

That's not a happy memory, Gelly!

"What he means is that she was a strict but fair teacher, and patiently guided him back onto the path of civilization."

"Oh, she'd beat me 'til my bruises could light a room, but always for a reason. Not cause'n she had a bad day, no. The day I skinned the family kifa I thought she might take me own hide. Twas worth it, though. Meat fell right off 'o the bone."

"I raised her from a tiny little kit," Jim says sadly before taking another long drink. "She used to wait on my bed for me each morning."

"Joined the service fer a chance at some payback. Both to pay back this lump," he says, pushing Jim's shoulder, "and maybe take down me foster brother, if'n our paths cross."

The talk winds down as the long night of drinking begins to take its toll upon the three overworked officers.

"Long day ahead of us." Jim pushes himself up, using the table for leverage. Waving a final goodnight, he staggers off to his suite.

Bidding his companion a good night, Vren too heads to find some sleep in the Tserri quarters.

Gelly cleans up the lounge before he walks back to his own cabin. The corridors are empty as he passes through, reaching his own quarters without seeing another crewmember. He turns off the light and is about to climb into his bunk when he pauses.

"Mos, when ye said ye killed tribals, what exactly did ye mean?"

I take a moment to compose myself before answering, still thinking over Gelly's story.

"With a spear mostly. It was the reason I was hatched. You should ask Tollek about the squiver he bought me from."

We had known the chieftain was important, but his tale had provided more detail. It's too bad I'll never be able to pass that info along.