Homeplate, Terran Foreign Legion HQ

Grezzk looked at the newest visitor to their home. He exuded nervousness and wrung his hands together as he sat on the edge of his cushion. Occasionally he would pause to attempt to discretely wipe his hands on the edges of his dawn-colored robe. It wasn't unusual for her to receive visitors; while she wasn't employed by the Legion, she was a Freelady and her other endeavors granted her voice weight. An untouched cup of tea sat in front of him, and all of his eyes moved about the living room. She kept her voice even as she spoke.

"Orile, you say you wish to apply to the post of Cultural Officer to the Legion?"

A series of rapid nods was the reply. "Yes, Freelady."

"This a curious request, giving rise to my second question - which culture?"

The question seemed to hit Orile with the force of a hammer. "Vi-Vilantian, of course."

Grezzk regarded her tea for a moment. "I regret to say that there is no post for Vilantian Cultural Officer."

Orile blinked. And blinked again. "But...the Stalwart Lance had one."

"It probably did. But that ship has been re-christened the Stalwart Rose. Even if it hadn't, there is cultural blending - Terran, Vilantian, and Hurdop. On the Twilight Rose, there is also Moncilat culture to consider. "

There was a swallow. "So there is no place for me?"

"Oh, I'm certain we can find a place for you. Now tell me this - why this company in particular? Certainly there are others that could use eager hands."

Orile looked around hesitantly, not willing to put his thoughts to word. The silence stretched, long enough for Grezzk to refill her own cup and take a sip before she returned to rocking the twins gently in their bassinet. As the silence continued, Orile made a few motions with his hands as the scent of anxiety returned in force. It was as if he were rehearsing something in his head - and the conversation was not going well.

"Orile, I cannot hear your thoughts. You must speak them." Grezzk's voice was soft, but there was a hint of stone at the core.

"My lady, I....I..." Orile lowered his head in shame. "I do not have faith in the Clan Way, lady."

"What causes this concern?"

"You know, my lady. Even here, you must have heard and know precisely why." There was frustration evident as Orile raised his head.

"Indeed. But for a thing to be, it must be spoken. Give your thoughts a voice, Orile."

Orile picked at his robes hesitantly. The whole idea here was that he wouldn't have to speak heresy. But it seemed he was going to have to do so. It didn't help that a purple-eyed Hurdop child had decided that now was the time to clamber up and rest her head on his upper arm while placing a small stuffed...thing in his lap. Finally he found words.

"The Freelord. First at Cartre's tree, then with the Greatlord - the challenge. The Clan Way is incomplete. Partial. But my whole life, it was everything. It was the only thing." Orile looked up, holding the stuffed animal and resisting the sudden urge to curl around it. "What if the Clan Way is...what if it's wrong? Am I wrong for having believed? What of my parents, my clan?"

Grezzk had been fortunate in some ways - she'd had long nights and long conversations with the clanmates who had stayed, and they'd been able to tease a few new concepts out of two incomplete societies. "Orile of Clan A'Solind. I think you were right to believe in what you thought to be right. But consider this - we know that the precepts of the Clan Way have changed throughout the centuries. That means they can change again. That makes the Clan Way a living thing, like any thing. Growth - like the trees, the animals and plants that we tend to. Like you have grown - from infant, to youth, now to someone taking cautious steps to adulthood."

There was a bleak look toward Grezzk. "But to know the path, I must scent the path."

"Is that what faith is? To walk a well-trod lane? Or to venture to what is unknown, and bring back knowledge to those who need it?" Grezzk let the question hang in the air for a long moment as she tended to the twins for a moment before she answered. "I think we both know the answer. It's why you're here."

Nhoot patted the funny Vilantians leg a few times. "It'll be okay. I didn't know what was going to happen when Papa Gryzzk brought me here either."

Orile swallowed before handing the teddy bear back to Nhoot and taking up the mug of tea. "So...will you speak to the Freelord?"

Grezzk shook her head again. "I will not." She paused again with a light smile on her face. "You will. His ship will be home within the week. Use the time wisely, my friend. There are common areas for visitors here, and New Casablanca has lodgings for rent."

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk managed to enjoy the rest of the game; Elsife Village United had managed to actually win in extra time despite their number one striker being red-carded for a penalty that was a rather ridiculous display of clan association. Meanwhile Kiole had begun eating frightening things - the mythical triple fried-egg chili chutney sandwich was followed by caramel coated deep-fried twinkies, Grezzk's jelly cookies, and a small bowl of sourfruit. It seemed that making a baby was hungry work. Gryzzk was satisfied with a single tumbler of rum throughout the entire time. It seemed miracles would never cease.

He was loathe to move, especially since the cushions were so comfortable and sometime during the post-game show he managed to fall asleep. Some hours later, he awoke to nature's call, realized that he and Kiole had slept through the normal evening meal and decided to see what precisely his charges were up to. Since Kiole was still sleeping, he had to dress himself - after a moment of thought he threw on his Elsife Village United semi-formal shirt and loose pants.

What his charges were up to was chaos. The scent of various beverages was thankfully light in the air as he took initial stock of the activities. There was extra-time Vilantian soccer in the port hallway if the four balls sailing hither and yon were any indication along with jousting in the starboard hallway. Gryzzk made his way down the portside hall helping both teams in turn. Finally, the dayroom seemed to be host to a concert of sorts.

It was perhaps one of the oddest things he'd ever seen. The furniture and games had been moved aside, creating a small lawn where everyone sat in small knots. Even the wallflowers of Supply were here, dancing in a small circle and passing around a not-small bottle labeled "Gus N' Bruno". The Reillys stood front and center, and they were all singing together. The elder Reillys had near-perfect voices that crested and fell through notes in subtle harmonies, counterpointing their daughters' raw energy as they went through several different songs - some Gryzzk knew as anthems of individual departments, others he remembered as anthems of drunken revels both Vilantian and Terran. Still, there were knots of quiet here and there - Gryzzk noted a tiny cluster and moved toward it.

It was the evening security team with Carinda as they sat on the grass laughing and telling stories of Cartre, and all of them had a hand on the sash that had been gifted to Clan A'Gulus. Gryzzk noted that all beverage containers were sealed and well out of spill-range for the sash. Carinda was smiling brightly as she finished speaking.

"...so there he is, holding Father's scentio in three pieces. Father simply looked at him, didn't even need to ask the question. Cartre looks up at Father and in the most perfectly innocent voice, he says 'Father, it just - it just happened apart!' The way he said it sent everyone to laughter, and Father didn't even punish him for it!" Carinda rocked side-to-side, the memory of her brother's antics bringing laughter to the squad. She looked up as she recognized the new scent in the area and began struggling to her feet even as Gryzzk gestured for her to remain seated.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Please. Be at ease tonight. Formality is for tomorrow." Gryzzk paused to take a knee. "You are adjusting well?"

Carinda nodded eagerly. "I...when I found this on my bunk, I wrote to Mother and Lord A'Gulus." There was a pause. "Gro'zel mostly wrote it. My hands couldn't make the letters properly. Then I wrote an apology to the Moncilat Clan Security. I may have resisted their efforts to arrest me a bit strongly."

"You will have to write a report about your actions." Gryzzk nodded solemnly, patting her shoulder gently. It seemed like being told to write something was a joy to Carinda, and she all but wriggled in response.

"Of course, Freelord." She motioned to a clearish spot of grass. "Would you care to join us?"

Gryzzk shook his head. "Not this time - though I may have more time to discuss things with your squad in R-space. Please, enjoy the evening."

Gryzzk continued to circulate, offering words here and there as he finally made his way to the knot that was his bridge squad. Yomios seemed a bit distracted as she twisted a small knot of Vilantian fur around her fingers. Miroka was in a similar state, running her fingers along Hoban's week-long beard. It was yet another oddity for Gryzzk that he hadn't fully adjusted to - the idea that individuals who could grow fur would voluntarily not do so. Still, the Moncilat scent was very muted and introspective in some way. Since U'wekrupp wasn't available and the Moncilat themselves seemed preoccupied, Gryzzk needed to ask the expert who seemed capable of speech.

"Hoban...can you explain?"

The helmsman grinned easily after taking a sip from his lager. "Oh, well...we mighta found some nice distilled catnip down there. And it mighta found its way into a glass or two. For Terrans it's basically minty water. Not sure what effect it'd have on you, but for the Moncilat it's a happy little hallucinogenic. Respectfully sir, they are toe-curlingly blitzed."

Laroy gave a soft snort. "From what I heard tell, it's not their toes curling that should keep you up nights driving a worry-wagon."

O'Brien snorted around her ale. "That, was quite awful corporal. Continue."

"A gentleman don't kiss-n-tell, Sergeant." Laroy seemed to take offense that the suggestion had even been spoken.

"Since when were you a gentleman?"

"Since Cap'n Wilson promised crawfish étouffée."

Gryzzk hmphed softly, diverting the conversation before it could reach a biological conclusion. "I trust that the bounty hunters were given a proper education?"

Larion smelled a bit embarrassed as he sipped his wine. "I was very careless."

"Expand, Corporal."

The Vilantian spun his glass carefully. "Well, I must explain. I received a message from the Hurdop women at the Wounded Greatlord. Two of them have indicated that there were results. But they do not wish to wed, they prefer that I become...their consort. The third has requested ah, another visit." Larion took a sip of wine. "As such I was not in a particularly celebratory mood. Then the...bounty hunters accosted us, scanned my face, and tried to place me in restraints. They didn't say anything. I fought them but I bumped Sergeant Major O'Brien's arm while defending myself and the situation...devolved."

O'Brien chuckled softly. "The lad bit one of them on the arm and started to worry it like a toy. Grand distraction, it let me shift my pint to my left hand so my right hand could do the Lord's work on the disrespectful bastards." She paused. "The tavern had a sign that said 'no refunds on Terran drinks' and I didn't want to risk it."

"Disrespectful?" Gryzzk canted his head slightly.

"Aye. One of their many mistakes. First, they took the job. Second they came light. Four-man crew coming for us? Bloody embarrassing is what that is. Lastly, empty gun holsters. Not even a stunner - they must ha' thought we'd gone native and would agree to go where they willed as soon as they gave us bracelets as a sign of their affections or somesuch. Graduates of the Wee Jock McPlop school of Bounty Hunters."

Laroy jumped in. "Ask Rosie if she can pull security footage - Ser'nt Maj'r threw punches faster'n a frog licks flies with half her pint full, I barely had me time to break a stool over the last fellas head. Tell you what, them bars that cater to space-folk need to learn a trick or two from New Casa. And then here Chewie over with his dance partner like a wolf on a bone got that last fella cryin' for mah-maw." He finished his tumbler of what looked like but smelled absolutely nothing like water with a satisfied sigh. "And then the folks wouldn't let us go till the cops showed up and took their tally, so...we asked if we could maybe buy ourselves another round to while away the time."

O'Brien jumped in. "The security footage is nothing to be looking at, Major. Fines and whatnot'll be settled at Sparrows."

Gryzzk leaned back. "Speaking of fines, I know I requested Captain Gregg-Adams set aside a fund for the purchase of chocolate to be shipped for company use. Regrettably, half of that fund had to be used to cover the...extraordinary amount of bail monies that had to be put up to secure the company's release."

Gryzzk might as well have delivered a hammer blow with the news if the Terran reaction was anything to judge, and even the Moncilat were brought from their reverie. O'Brien's brow furrowed as she began to work on math in her head before she spoke.

"We'll not be leaving light, sir. I'll let the lads and lasses know."

Gryzzk smiled a bit. "If it does turn out that there are bounties on those who attempted to take you in, I'll be sure the Chocolate Fund is reimbursed first."

During all of this, the Reillys were wrapping up their impromptu concert with the superhit from the days of Chardelia - it was a very gentle sort of song about a modern day Romeo and Juliet, centering around how they were both doomed to sorrow due to their families perpetual rivalry and the blood that had been spilled and would continue to flow if they pursued it. It ended with the two swearing to never look upon each other again because they knew the story and never was there such a tale of woe as that of Juliet and her Romeo.

There was enthusiastic applause as the family descended and the jukebox took over the sound system with something Gryzzk had never heard - it was a Vilantian theme but with Hurdop lyrics. The three of them made their way to the bridge squad. Collectively, they were exceptionally content, but something was different. Gryzzk paused, taking a deep inhale before realizing that there had been an air of mutual distrust that was muted. Oddly, Charles led off the conversation as Delia leaned into him protectively.

"I...know this hasn't been the easiest of jobs, but I do hope the compensations will be enough. Delia and I spoke, and...well, we may be hiring your company again next year for a different sort of job." There was a casual smile. "We're...thinking about getting the band back together for the next nostalgia tour. Maybe even write a few new songs that translate for your species."

Gryzzk smiled easily. "Well, given how profitable this venture has been, I look forward to seeing your bid for our services on my tablet."

Delia almost purred after a moment. "Major, if you'll excuse us? The allergy medications are wearing off, and I need this man to tear all my clothes off." So saying, she all but dragged Charles out of the dayroom.

Hoban smirked as the two departed, leaning into Yomios. "Work work work..."

Reilly seemed to be in a good mood for a moment, before she looked around with a mock glare. "So who's holding the chocolate vodka. I can smell it."

Edwards looked uncertain for a moment before pulling out a flask and handed it over, whereupon Reilly took a long swig and handed it back, sighing. "Nope. I can still hear Dad asking the cop if she wanted to examine his schlong-form girth certificate." There was a shudder at the memory, and a few sympathetic looks. "At least I won't have to deal with it for another year."

O'Brien snorted. "Consider it penance for your sins against me and baby Jesus. At least we know where you get your mad hormonal urges."

Reilly shook her head. "Nope-nope. Womb with a view, remember?"

Hoban snorted. "Sure. So where'd you get the singing talent?"

Reilly shot back immediately. "Sure as hell wasn't New Austin - I can actually sing and I don't pray to Saints Willie and Waylon every Saturday night."

"Damn shame. You coulda learned to sing good music instead of those songs that sound like a hamster getting electroshock therapy." Hoban leaned into Miroka a bit more.

Yomios came out of her fuzz slowly. "Mmm. I liked it. Her solos tasted like mint gelato."

Laroy shook his head. "She's higher than eagle balls right now. Major I'd make a note in the log to where the Moncilat catnip ration is...low."

Gryzzk simply watched the interplay, and looked over the dayroom. Each section seemed to be having a grand time together, exchanging their own tales and laughing softly. Finally he caught sight of both Gro'zel and Kiole coming in, wearing distinctly casual clothes. It took some time as Gro'zel was tending to her duties even in this moment, ensuring everyone was in a positive mood and dishing out hugs and nuzzles to everyone who crossed their path. Meanwhile, Kiole had broken off to her section for a moment and giggled at some in-joke before they made their way to settle on the grass, Kiole next to Gryzzk and Gro'zel claiming his lap.

"Our children missed their father." Kiole patted her belly gently.

Gro'zel looked up and nodded. "Millennium's asleep and warm, and Rosie said she'd let me know if something happened."

The family leaned into each other, becoming a small island unto themselves for a long moment. When Gryzzk finally looked up, it seemed that Reilly had been goaded into singing a song from Hoban's collection. It was one that Gryzzk knew but wasn't familiar with, since some of the words translated nonsensically. But Hoban had a bright smile on his face as Reilly sang about how her heroes had always been cowboys, and they still were it seemed. How they were sadly in search of, and one step in back of themselves, and their slow moving dreams. Miroka roused herself a bit and started humming and softly singing along with the chorus while Yomios smacked her lips softly and murmured about mint gelato in a leather cup.

Gryzzk swept his eyes over his company - his clan - once more and decided that all in all, this knot of warmth made the entire job worth it.

But he was still sending the Reillys an invoice once they hit Homeplate. There were rules, after all.

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