Humans for Hire

Terran Mercenary Ship "Voided Warranty", Bridge

Major Williams was standing in front of his command chair with 4 other figures hovering before him. Three of the figures had insignia similar to his, while the fourth one had an eagle insignia on the front. The one with the eagle was speaking.

"Major we've looked over this proposal and we'd certainly like to know a little more. A lot more. There's a lot of questions with this and a lot of startup cost. We're definitely profitable enough to absorb this for two quarters, but after that they're going to have to operate in the black. A full company, right off the hop though? That's a lot, and I'd really like to know how you're going to fill those ranks. Particularly given you've sent over a prospectus like this a few times before."

"Fairly simply Colonel. we'll start with a good advertising blitz in the Vilantian and Hurdop sectors. We'll have to tailor it a bit, let the Hurdop know that this is a chance to go legit - which is not a chance they're going to get if the Collective gets a hold of them. For the Vilantians, same message but different words. Not so much going legit as acquiring things that they're going to need if they're going to become anything more than a backwater that's always fighting their cousins. In addition, we may be picking up some of the criminal element from both, so I've had legal draw up some contractual obligation drafts. Not too dissimilar, but at the same time letting them know that if they want to join us for a clean record, we're only going to clean it once."

"Alright, Major Williams, we're going to double-check your numbers because this is going to come out of the collective pot for the startup costs. But start making moves on this, because if we don't someone else is going to come up with this brilliant idea and have the cash on hand to work it. You'll have about two weeks from go, you may want to get prep work done as soon as your current contract is complete." There was a pause. "What are you calling this anyway?"

"We'll call 'em Alpha Company of the Terran Foreign Legion. And then the fine print'll mention they're a wholly owned subsidiary of 7th Space Cav and bound by Terran law and treaty."

___________

Muranagas' quarters

The quarters were very full at the moment – Gryzzk wasn't sure he wanted to be among so many now but it wasn't exactly his call. There was chatter, mostly congratulatory. The prevailing scent in the room was something akin to a banked fire. It was comforting.

Muranaga finally waved for quiet. "Alright, we got things to go over here. First, a message from the Major. As we have hit R-space, we are no longer running silent. Business as usual, chow printers are unlocked and we're returning all our extra goodies back to storage. Second order of business, quick debrief. Who's got something about the target?"

Roberts spoke up first. "Look, if that's like their biggest treasures and baddest guards - they are so far up [bzzt] creek they're at the headwaters and still paddling. The only reason this war's really still going is...well, I get the sense the Hurdop are evenly matched."

Reilly piped up next; "There's taking candy from a baby, and then there's whatever that was. I mean, I'm all for making money off of some items falling into my pocket on a job, but that?" She shook her head. "Wouldn'ta been right. I'll take my share and wait for some Centaurian with a fat cred account and a problem with his loan shark."

There was general agreement with this, and after a moment Muranaga lifted his hand again for quiet. "Which brings me to my second topic. While you were walking down here, the Major sent the officers and senior non-commissioned officers a message that our employer Lord A'kifab has officially exiled Gryzzk and his family."

The room erupted at that; Gryzzk recoiled and moved Nhoot behind him as the squad threatened death, dismemberment, and a most hideous torture called disco. The squad eventually settled down, and then mutterings began of a bidding war for the privilege of beating the crap out of Lord A'kifab. Since everyone wanted in on this and nobody was willing to yield, eventually a plan was agreed upon with everyone getting a limb to do with as they willed, Muranaga was designated as a floater while Gryzzk could punch or kick wherever the prevailing emotion dictated. Multiple similar plans were floated, all of them with a general theme of violence and pain. Eventually the squad ran out of steam and collectively folded their arms, waiting for Muranaga to give approval or denial to their intentions.

Muranaga had sat silently on his desk checking a message on his tablet while the troops' deviously creative minds ran their course and as they settled, he cleared his throat. "Now that we've gotten all of that out of our systems. We've contacted Alpha, Charlie, and Delta companies and advised them to be on the lookout for Grezzk and Gro'zel and collect them as rapidly as possible with a finders' fee and bonus to the one who finds them. That applies to us as well, and I believe we have a leg up on the situation for two reasons. One, we're due to land on Vilantia Prime in about six hours with the Throne-Heir, and I'm pretty sure there's going to be a few people who want to meet him, however per the standard contract we can only release the Throne-Heir to our employer. That being the good Lord A'kifab." He immediately held up a hand to forestall any pleading for a chance to vigorously interview Lord A'kifab. "This is a Dress Uniform Occasion. No weapons, and nobody speaks unless spoken to. That said, Legal's been working overtime. As Gryzzk has been exiled, as far as Vilantia's concerned he doesn't exist except as legally required by the Collective. With that, his part in the contract has been revoked and that means he is free to do what he wishes. Gryzzk."

Muranaga turned to Gryzzk with his tablet. "I have two contracts on this tablet. The first is a standard locate and retrieve contract, much like the one signed by Lord A'kifab – specifically to locate your wife and kid. Possibly kids. The fee for this has been set by Major Williams as one credit to be paid by you, all other expenses to be absorbed by the Bravo Bulldogs Company and parent corporation, the 7th Space Cavalry. This one we'll need to deal with first."

Gryzzk blinked. Hard. "I...you would?"

There was a collective nod, as Muranaga quivered slightly. The air around him filled his nose with a hard metal, leaving no doubt of what the right choice was. He found a stylus and marked at the line, as well as several sub-markings to confirm his agreement with the non-standard clauses.

Lieutenant Muranaga nodded. "Alright. Now for the second one. This has been something the Major's been itching to do for a minute. He feels that the mercenary world's been dominated by Terran thinking and Terran ways, and that eventually we're going to run into something we can't Terran our way out of, and we fail out the job. He's been wanting to form up a mixed-species company, and the upper echelons have given him the provisional go-ahead while everyone in Accounting does their job. With that, this second contract is an offer of employment for three years in that company. As you would be the only member, you would be Brevet Captain Gryzzk – with final rank and duties dependent on the results of recruitment and subsequent training success. If Accounting punches their numbers into the calculators and then the calculators make a sad face, the contract would revert you to the rank and status of Corporal within the Bravo Bulldogs organization."

Gryzzk blinked. His universe had switched directions so many times in the past few days he had no words immediately. Finally he gawped out a small "But why?"

Muranaga smirked. "I'd like to remind you that we're Recon, and along with official reports there are unofficial reports. We give the official ones for the record. Those are all fact, nothing else. The unofficial reports include things that aren't facts - impressions, feelings, and hunches. The unofficial reports are that you are a raw chunk of bad-ass looking for some polish. You didn't flinch at the assignment. Ate Chefs' curry. Asked enough questions. You weren't stupid with First Sergeant Brooks. When the situation called for it you were a stone cold warrior. When the situation called for it you were a gentle father to a frightened girl. You can't teach that - you either are or you aren't. And well, folks like you are a hot commodity. Social situation aside, out there on the open market you'd be a pick. But you know us, you know what we do. You take care of us, and we take care of you. Whatcha say?"

There was a pause from Gryzzk. "Why did...why did you all join?"

Muranaga nodded. "Fair question. Round the horn – go."

Reilly piped up. "I like talking to people and my parents didn't like my hair. Or my fashion. Or my pets. Or anyone I dated. So I completed my education early, got emancipated, and signed on cause I liked the logo. And really, where else you going to experience this? And now I got a nice apartment on home plate, I can date who I want, color my hair how I want, wear what I want, and have four cats that keep me warm when nobody else will."

Laroy was next. "Grandmama Thibedeaux always said I had the wandering feet. I'd be gone days in the bayou looking for something new. First she taught me to shoot cause there's things in the bayou that don't like nobody. She could see I was gonna get bored of the bayou, and the only place on Terra with more crazy than Louisiana's a place called Australia, and hoo-ee I crazy - not stupid. So Grandmama Thibedeaux takes me side one night after Sunday dinner and she says 'Alexandre Babineaux Thibedeaux Laroy you are never gonna be happy here, so I found a place where you can get to wanderin' and then come home for good supper and stay when your feet get tired' and then she puts the ad on my pad and a gris-gris on my neck. I calls, I shuttles, I here."

Edwards chuffed softly. "Relatively boring. Family's been part of the Bulldogs since they were founded. Grew up on Homeplate, and I liked all the sensor displays showing things around the area."

Roberts spread his hands. "I'd been a constable for about ten years on Heinlein Station. Had a case go way further then we thought and at the end of the day I had the clothes on my back, my last paycheck in my pocket and a death mark that was going to follow me for a few years unless I did something about it. So, looked around, made some choices, and here I am."

Muranaga cleared his throat. "And then there's me. Family line littered with heroes since even before Terrans had figured out how to get into space. Every three or four centuries someone in the family does something ridiculously epic that earns 'em a chest full of medals and a footnote in the history books. That was not me. Remember when I said the Bulldogs take in folks from the criminal element? I was running a crew of thieves, we'd smuggle contraband around, steal anything that moved...but we got greedy, couple of us got pinched and flipped, and I wound up looking at either five years here or fifteen as a guest of the Sakharov Enclave. That was seven years ago." Muranaga spread his hands. "I think it worked out for everybody. So - you know our deal. One other thing, we do have a counselor on standby if you need an interpreter there." Muranaga waved a hand at the tablet with the contract.

Gryzzk looked down at the tablet, reading through it. He didn't see anything too untoward – it seemed a minimum of the legal jargon was used, and there was an index to assist with terminology. He paused and read it over, read it again, and then signed off.

There was an immediate series of cheers and barks, ending with Gryzzk at the bottom of a pile of happy troopers who finally picked him up and dusted him off with some hard backslaps and cheers. Finally Muranaga got the pile sorted out, with everyone smiling and giving solid friendly punches.

Edwards parked herself casually near Gryzzks' bunk, keeping just outside the higher gravity area. "So, serious question. What's your company colors going to be?"

There was a pause for a moment while Gryzzk started to get himself together, and had a thought. "Vilantian twilight, mostly dark purple with golds and reds." There was a slight chuckle. "If I am going to be in the twilight, I should be in the twilight."

Muranaga tapped at his tablet, countersigning the contracts appropriately. "Right then. We'll get the rest of it in a moment. The Major is about to call for a rapid debrief." Muranaga tapped one more time on the tablet, showing the Major from the waist up.

"Squad, we're doing this fast because time is of the essence. Five hours until we hit Vilantia Prime and get paid and then we lateral to our next job. Given that we had no helmet malfunctions, does anyone have anything else to add?"

There was a chorus of negatives from the team. Collectively, they'd been busy and after everything that had happened a nap was in order. The Major nodded and glanced over something on his tablet. "Very well. Lieutenant, dismiss your squad. Brevet Captain Gryzzk, you will have a uniform issue arriving shortly. I recommend you get a nap in." The Major disappeared, leaving everyone silent.

Muranaga set his tablet aside, and reached into his above-bunk storage, bringing down several small containers of liquid, passing one to each of the squad, and then a last one for Gryzzk. "Successful mission deserves a shot. Normally more than one, but as the Major reminds us, we need to hit the rack and then be bright eyed and bushy-tailed in four hours. Gryzzk, what you've got there is rum. Terran in origin and associated with pirates, privateers, and well, the lawless. But we like you anyway." Muranaga raised his container. "To the Captain."

Everyone raised their own in salute toward Gryzzk, "To the Captain" and promptly downed their drinks. Gryzzk did the same, and found that rum was oddly pleasant, if a bit sharp in the throat.

Muranaga waved everyone out. "Alright, dismissed. Everyone be back out here in four hours for dress inspection."

Gryzzk fell into his bunk with his mind racing and slightly off-center from the rum. There was a slight whisper from Nhoot. "What's going to happen to me when we go to Vilantia?"

Gryzzk considered the question. "We'll find your clan, and see if they'll take you."

"My parents are gone. The ones on the ship said so. I don't know my clan. I know you."

"We'll have to ask other people if you can stay. It may be that your clan may see your shoulders and not want you. On Vilantia those are marks of...bad people."

"I'll stay with you then." There was that childlike surety in her voice again. "Rhipl'i can't protect both of us if you're not near me."

"We'll do what we can, Nhoot." And despite the uncertainty of the immediate future, there were a few things he was going to be doing. Sleep overtook him in the middle of his whispered hope that someone was taking care of Grezzk and Gro'zel.

There was a small chiming that wakened Gryzzk from a muted dream of finding...someone. He rose to find Muranaga already showered and wearing a strange uniform. It was a dark blue, with a few splashes of color and metal and on his head was a strange sort of hat that looked like a blanket of sorts had been draped unequally to cover his right ear. Front and center of it was a badge of the company bulldog as well as his rank insignia. At the door was a uniform that was similar for Gryzzk. A white shirt went on first, followed by a dress jacket not unlike his normal servants' livery. The jacket itself was a deep purple, with decorative striping of red and gold along the edges. The dress jacket had three ribbons that shaped a pyramid. The top one was purple with gold edging, the bottom-left dark green and red edging, and the bottom-right was split into thirds - left and right were dark green, and the center was a silver stripe. Similar color and decoration was found on the pants, and then he also had a similar hat, but purple with a pair of glossy red bars with the insignia being a Vilantian paw-print that was slightly obscured by a globe - presumably Terra. He also found a shirt and pants for Nhoot to wear that were similarly colored.

Muranaga helped with the fitting, and then Nhoot picked up Rhipl'i in her arm to make sure they were safe. The door was opened, and the rest of the squad was there standing rigidly. They all had similar uniforms to Muranagas, but the differences seemed to be in the details - mainly rank and other small ribbons of color. Muranaga walked up and down the rank, flicking away small bits of debris as he saw them, and finally nodded. "Get 'em moving, Sergeant. Captain Gryzzk, if you would walk to my left." There was a pause. "Sir."

Gryzzk hurried to comply, and they all set forward with Nhoot holding Gryzzks' hand as she gamely walk-trotted to keep pace with the adult steps. As they approached the forward section where they were to disembark, crew-members going in the other direction stopped and watched with approving nods. Even the morale officers seemed to slow, with Jonesy eyeing Nhoot very carefully before trotting off to wherever Morale Officer Jonesy wished. Stabby was as always, unconcerned.

They reached the airlock, where they were awaited by the Throne-Heir, looking clean and smelling worry-free. Gryzzk resolved to learn how to do that, as he was quite certain the Heir could smell his worry from the time they'd left their quarters. The Heir was flanked by Major Williams and First Sergeant Brooks, both with fairly large splashes of color and ribbon on their uniforms.

Major Williams spoke first. "Throne-Heir, I would like to present to you the first member of the provisionally-formed Terran Foreign Legion, Brevet Captain Gryzzk. He shows great promise, and I believe your species has that same promise."

As if by some unseen signal, the First Sergeant as well as the company all brought their heels together and threw their right hands to their brows. Gryzzk wasn't certain of his next move, but he returned the gesture as closely as possible. After he put his arm down, the group did the same. That was the signal for the Major to continue.

"Our Legal team has discussed and will be drafting a proposal for all the parties involved in the current conflict to review. It will be fast, it will be good, and there will be attendant proposals that will allow both sides to recover rapidly. Now, if everyone could proceed to the embarkation shuttle, we'll be at Lord A'Kifabs' pad shortly. He has been made aware of your arrival and is quite enthused to receive you, Throne-Heir."

The ride down was pure silence. The scents however, were conflicting. There was a calm and a rage from all the Terrans, even the shuttle pilots as they kept transmissions as short as possible. Once they touched down, there was a pause as things were secured, before the Throne-Heir rose, looking at Gryzzk directly.

"Brevet Captain, it would please me if you and Nhoot would accompany me down the walkway." The Heir turned. "Major, as we discussed. A new day dawns, and Vilantia must know this the moment I am seen."

Major Williams nodded his assent. "Of course. We'll be behind and stay out of the vids as much as we can."

A control was touched, the shuttle rear clamshelled open, and the three Vilantians made their way down. The instant that the Heirs' foot touched, they were beset on all sides by journalists shouting question of who the ones accompanying the Heir were. There were so many scent-drones and reporters that Gryzzk could barely see the estate that he'd once called home, although he did see instead of Lord A'kifabs' groundcar, there was another one that was far more ostentatious and carried the sigil of the Great Lord. The Great Lords' car was flanked by no less than ten royal guards, all preparing to create mayhem as needed in case someone tried something silly at the last moment. The open rear door was flanked by both Lord A'kifab and the Great Lord of the Clan.

The Throne-Heir held up a hand to gesture for quiet. "I must apologize for being brief, as the recent events have been trying. However I will say that my rescue was timely, my journey home pleasant, and my resolve to do what is right remains undimmed. I must consult with the Throne on matters that were discussed, but I believe that these two next to me represent a part of Vilantias' future. The young girl was found on a ship as part of the initial rescue, and we will be efforting to determine her proper Clan. The young man was integral to my rescue, and has volunteered his services to the Terrans as part of the bridge that must be built. Now please, I would have my guards escort me."

Gryzzk and Nhoot fell into step beside the regal Throne-Heir. As they began to walk, the royal guards formed a living cordon and kept the three of them rather safe from anything. Gryzzk could smell fear and resolve from the guards as they moved their charge through to the door. The Heir slipped into the car without a word as it slipped into motion, silently moving toward the second detail of vehicles that formed a physical bubble of protection, leaving the reporters to dash off heedlessly through the foliage to get their own stories confirmed and sent. Within a dozen breaths, the area was clear and Gryzzk smelled anger behind him. Both the Lord and Great Lord smelled of uncertainty and curiosity. The Great Lord had no such concern, with his scent being simply confident.

The Majors voice was an unrelenting wall of stone. "Lord A'kifab, our business is concluded. We now have new business to discuss. The Brevet Captain has advised that he is married, and has a child. Further, the last place he saw her was here. Prior to his captaincy, he contracted with Bravo for an undisclosed sum, payment contingent on locating her. Is there anything you wish to say?"

Fear radiated from Lord A'kifab as his voice trembled out. "She. We. I...she may have -"

Lord A'kifab was interrupted by a handwave from the Great Lord. "We have nothing to say about the whereabouts of the Nameless. They are beyond our care or concern."

There was an expressive sigh from the Major. "First Sergeant, please educate the gentleman."

First Sergeant Brooks loomed over the Great Lord. Where the Majors' voice was a mere implacable wall, her voice was a storm made from the foundations of war itself - her scent was that of the wild predators that lurked in the nightmares of the guilty. "Who the living feck has the pure audacity to interrupt a mercenary on the job? Who?! Speak yer name or I'll invent one for you and then I'll tell you the holy writ."

Gryzzk made a mental note to ask if 'Irish' was a Terran colloquialism for 'angry female that makes other angry females lesser by comparison'.

The Great Lord was taken aback but not cowed. "I am Great Lord Aa'porti, one of the twenty-one Great Lords who maintain these lands and elect from our number the Great Council who advise the Throne itself on all matters. I must thank you for your actions, as they have retrieved that which is dear to us. I do regret that the Nameless one was responsible, but you have been paid. Kindly see yourselves to your shuttle."

First Sergeant Brooks took a breath. "Y' Grand Gobshite did you not hear the Major? We're on a new job, and I believe that lad was about to say something helpful before you rudely interrupted, and don't think for a moment that the good Captain there was part of it - if you do you're either a fool or you're in on it. So which is it, y'thick or y'traitor? And while you rack your brain for the right answer you keep that gob shut until I say so unless you want my next question to be 'How badly do your bollocks hurt' and I'll wait a month of Sundays for that answer."

The Great Lord was angered, partially because he wasn't certain exactly how he'd been insulted and partially because of the few people who were here, none of them would normally speak to him in such a manner. Gryzzk noted a few curtains rustling in the manor house. Most likely servants wondering about the commotion and trying to get a better scent for the wind.

As the silence lengthened, First Sergeant Brooks nodded. "That'll do, pig. That'll do."

The Major cleared his throat slightly, returning his attention to Lord A'kifab. "Let me ask this way. Is there a place where a pregnant, Nameless mother would go to connect with others."

Lord A'kifab was trembling still, in a way that Gryzzk hadn't seen since his Lord had become a Lord. "She, she knew where we had met you. Certain, ship captains are known to take on unregistered passengers in exchange for services. If one were there they may have taken her on and made a trip to, to there."

The major nodded assent. "Very good. I'm certain it breaks protocol in some way, but is there anything you'd like to say to the Captain before we leave?"

There was a nod as Lord A'kifab composed himself before speaking to Gryzzk. "What was done. Was for a greater Vilantia. I remember playing in these trees as a boy with a friend, pretending ourselves heroes against all. But we were boys, we didn't know what being a hero was, or what it cost. What it costs is what is dearest. If there was one whom I could have believed capable of bearing the cost of being a hero, it was that friend I played with those years ago."

Gryzzk paused for a long moment, thinking. Finally he walked over to Lord A'kifab and pressed his forehead against his former lords', placing a hand on his shoulder. "I remember. And I know. The gods living and dead set us on different roads, and hope that yours is kinder than mine. That boy you played with all those years ago never wanted to be a hero. All he ever wanted to be." There was a pause while Gryzzk swallowed. "Was your friend." After that, Gryzzk stood and took Nhoot in his arms to walk back to the shuttle.

The Great Lord snorted. "Nameless bas-" whatever else he was going to say was transformed into a exclamation of indecent pain that had apparently been delivered courtesy of the First Sergeants' knee.

"How badly do your bollocks hurt then?" After a pause, the First Sergeant leaned over the writhing Great Lord. "Now then, lad. I want you to hear this very closely. We'll be finding the young miss, and if we find there's been harm done as a result of what's happened, we'll come for you. We'll find you. And we'll be shipping you to the darkest hell you can imagine, and we'll be shipping you there postage due." She stood, looking over at Lord A'kifab. "Make sure he knows. Make sure you know." She then moved to the Major. "Orders, sir?"

The Major seemed nonplussed at the violence. "I think we're done here. Back to shuttle and once we dock, set course for Ricks'."