New Casablanca, Clean Sheet Microtel

Chapma rested on the flat padded surface of the cheap and small cylinder that served as his room. For a Terran this was a last-ditch place to sleep, and only sleep. Even for a Vilantian there wasn't enough space to fully sit upright. There was a communal shower at the end of the hall, and recessed light for reading. The cheap holo display was making a valiant attempt at displaying a football match he was quite keen on watching. Elsife Village United was playing Orbital Palace FC on OP's new pitch, which was actually orbiting Vilantia.

The Orbital Palace was a Terran innovation but utilized Vilantian hardware - their ships specifically. The fleets that had been battered and left to debris had finally been completely cleaned from the system, with their structures and power-plants reforged into a new web of docking platforms and interconnecting trafficways for cargo. As secondary benefit, the artificial gravity for most of the station was set to Collective Standard, allowing for easier trade with species that couldn't withstand the higher gravity of Vilantia. It seemed a stroke of genius to connect to new station to one of the planet's oldest sporting traditions, and with that was new kit - Orbital Palace was dressed out in purples and blacks trimmed in the gold of dawn. It almost seemed as if the taboo surrounding purple had been all but undone by the success of the collective Terran Legions.

Still, the holo resolution was so pitiful he could barely make out who was who, and midway through the first period he finally gave up. "Computer, identify location most likely to be playing this match."

The artificial voice immediately responded in a smooth monotone. "The match is currently being viewed on eighty percent of the holos at both Captain Jack's and Sparrow's. Would you like directions sent to your personal tablet?"

"Yes please."

He threw on his Elsife United shirt and twisted around so he could exit head-first to the ladder that wobbled as he dropped down, and as he walked to the bar he remembered. He'd been a yeoman's apprentice in service to Greatlord Aa'Beresi, sworn to the Ministry of War and he'd been party to a terrible decision - his ship had fled Vilantia as soon as they'd heard the news that the Throne had passed. They'd made for Draconis, but during the trip in R-space a mutiny had broken out, with three factions forming. By the time they'd emerged, the majority of the crew was dead and the Terran War was over. The few that remained further splintered over what to do. They could return and face whatever new thing was forming, or they could stay in Draconis and make new lives with their ship. After several weeks and a frightful number of escapades, he and his wife found that one of their desperate couplings made in the belief that they would be speaking with the dead gods on the morrow had a result. Running and hiding in Draconis would no longer suffice - they would have to reclaim honor; and in a seedy bar where they'd found just enough work to pay for their bed and board they found a flexisheet with the answer - the Terran Foreign Legion. It seemed a stroke of greatest fortune, and they'd poured most of their credits into purchasing passage for him to New Casablanca. His wife had volunteered to stay because...because...he couldn't remember, but there was a reason.

A voice snapped him out of his reverie; it was female, casual, and Hurdop-accented. The speaker was dressed in some ridiculous fashion with knee boots, blousy pantaloons and a deep purple and gold corset with a cut that bordered on obscene as she looked him over. "Hey stranger - you looking to watch the game? Second period's about to start, fifteen percent off during the match if you're wearing club kit."

Chapma realized that his thoughts had almost carried him past Sparrow's bar. "Oh, why yes. I was ah, thinking about tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow then?"

"I've received my orders to join with the Terran Foreign Legion."

At this, the door crier looked a touch suspicious. "Not the Foreign Legion of Terra, the Terran Legion of Foreigners or the Foreign Terran Legion?" There was a pause while she spat dryly. "Bloody splitters."

Chapma showed his tablet with the relevant message from the personnel office, which caused the crier to break out in a wide happy grin. "Welcome to your second home, lad!" She called back to the bar. "Master Pintel, fortune graces us this day with a new Legionnaire come to make his mark with the morrow!" She then rotated vigorously back to face Chapma fully, causing an enticing movement with certain body parts. "If you need anything else - anything - call for Anamaria. For now, avail yourself of the Legion policy - new recruits get one free shot of Admiral Norrington's Rum at the bar." Her voice lowered. "My real name's Telome, if you'd like to call it out later."

Chapma blanched at her blatant attempt to lead him to her bed. "I share my warmest fur only with my wife. And I only have a microtel cylinder."

There was a soft exhalation. "Vilantians. Suit yourself, lad." As he walked by she murmured to him almost as an afterthought. "You can fit four of our species into one of those. Five if nobody's picky about what goes where."

Chapma blinked again, uncertain if he'd heard her properly before going to the bar to show his orders to the Terran behind the bar. The rum had a tremendous difference from previous samples he'd had - as it washed over his palate it seemed as though a Vilantian had placed their hands on the process in some way. Perhaps New Casablanca had more to offer than initially thought.

___________

Homeplate, Gryzzk's quarters

Rosie's image looked properly indignant as she took over the room holoprojector. "Fer what?!"

"XO, would you kindly explain how it has come to pass that our guests believe the company and I have, and I quote, 'pelvic sorceries'? I'm very curious."

The XO looked at Gryzzk as if he'd been dropped on his head a few too many times as an infant. "Freelord. You have four children - and your second wife is pregnant with a honeymoon baby. If your dangling participle doesn't double as a magic wand, my primary core runs on vacuum tubes."

Gryzzk looked back to see Kiole and Grezzk sharing a look before he turned back to address his employers. "Apologies. Our executive officer is occasionally quite literal when it amuses her to be so. When you requested information, she included documents that are fictional and I assume rather unsuitable for children. I assure you that such stories are well outside our normal mode of operation. I will be having a discussion with her regarding this later." He directed the last sentence toward Rosie as well as the Pavonians, letting the XO know that there would be a reckoning in the near future.

Philon paused, considering. "Ah. We do not delve into fictions as a species. Generally our stories of such ilk are parables grounded in a whole truth. However the facts remain." She pointed at O'Brien for emphasis. "Your command includes Terrans, all of whom are capable of rendering the unaware reproductively catatonic with the spells of their spiritual forebear Captain Kirk."

O'Brien rolled one of her shoulders. "Don't fear for your virtues. I'll have a wee chat with the full battalion prior to formation. If you'll excuse me, Major?"

Gryzzk nodded assent and the sergeant major exited. He was pretty sure that Rosie was getting an earful of unhappy O'Brien, but that was in fact Rosie's problem. "Now then - we have some time prior to your meeting the company at large. Are there any specific sections you wished to observe during your time here?"

"Most specifically, your ship itself and the combat doctrines utilized. We have simulations prepared based on our encounters within the system and we'd like your input."

Gryzzk nodded. "Such can be arranged, however my primary sensor technician will be detached for officer training beginning tomorrow and continuing for the next four weeks. If you wish to interview her this evening, such can be arranged."

Philon seemed to relax at the news. "I would appreciate the opportunity to do so."

"XO, advise Sergeant Edwards to prepare for guests this evening." Gryzzk secured his Stetson and retrieved his spurs, placing them on correctly. "Now then. If you'll follow me to the company area, we have introductions to make."

As Gryzzk led them from the officer quarters to the company area, he received his first expected surprise. The company areas had been roughly hewn from the asteroid inner surface already, but for the moment most of the new recruits were bunking in cramped conditions. Since the company area was nowhere near large enough to hold all of them, each of the companies had a single platoon to represent them. Gryzzk noted that a few holocams were hovering to broadcast whatever he said to the other ships. As he approached, he heard O'Brien's voice echo off the walls as she called the Legion to attention. He caught scents of apprehension and expectation predominantly as he moved to his spot on a raised platform, allowing the camera operators to set their charges to hover. He moved his hat back slightly and took a breath, rocking back and forth for a few moments before raising his voice to a loud conversational tone.

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"Legion, at-" his voice boomed from hidden speakers, which caused both himself and more then a few others to flinch. Gryzzk's fur flared a bit before he laughed a bit at his own foolishness. He tried again, this time more casually. "Legion, at ease. It is my honor to formally welcome all of you to the Legion. I hope to meet with all of you, and find out more about what's not in these files on my tablet. I'm certain that in the past few days since you received your approvals, you've felt a bit like A'leece - tumbling down the dirantha-hole. Believe me when I say that such a feeling is normal, and that feeling will continue over the next few days as new scents join ours."

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "The Legion doesn't have a long history, but we have a storied one despite that. Over the next few days you'll come to learn more about your ships, you'll build your quarters and move in, and then we'll start the real reason we're all here. Making ourselves profitable. We have about six weeks to go from our current state to battle ready. For anyone who believes that to be impossible, Alpha Company began with a Vilantian Warfreighter and the area you're currently in. The Warfreighter was overhauled and the company ready for their shakedown in three. I will not ask you to look at what we did and accept it as the standard. I will expect you to exceed that standard. I will ask you to walk nose open to everything that is happening. Learn everything that can be taught. When differences arise, make use of the sand pit." He took another breath. "Tonight, relax and get to know each other. Tomorrow the work begins. During that time, you will be meeting with our guests from Pavonia. They will ask questions, answer them as honestly as you can." He brought his heels together, saluting them. "Company commanders, take charge. Dismissed to your quarters, Legion will form at zero-eight-hundred tomorrow for work assignments."

He relaxed fractionally as the platoons scattered, with O'Brien smirking a bit.

"Lovely speech, Major."

"Was there a particular part that was enjoyable?" Gryzzk flicked an ear in curiosity.

"The part where it was shorter than Reilly's crotch covers."

"Noted. XO, advise the company commanders and senior NCO's that we'll be meeting in the conference room of the Twilight Rose in one hour. Informal attire." Gryzzk moved to his quarters to loosen his jacket slightly but didn't change. As he walked, the Pavonians shadowed him from a distance that suggested they hadn't fully internalized that this would not devolve into something straight from the fever dreams of Terrans with too poor a grasp on literary nuance and too firm a grasp on other areas.

Gryzzk planned to spend the next hour with his tablet going over his previous notes from the morning with respect to his commanders, however that was interrupted by Philon who bombarded him with questions about tactical maneuvers, weapon charge rates, and other minutiae while Mulish recorded Gryzzk's responses and scribbled other observations on a tablet. Finally they realized the time and excused themselves to interview Edwards. Which gave him exactly eight minutes to familiarize himself with the other ship captains as well as their proposed ship names. It was enough for him to rapid-scan and memorize, but not take in any deeper personality traits. In addition to Rostin and Waniul of Charlie Company, Delta company was being led by a Terran - Captain Jenkins, one of the Terran captains he'd met briefly in his time as an observer, while Echo and Fox Companies being led respectively by a Hurdop named Freelord Bulfrek and a Vilantian by the name of Venlid. With that initial briefing in mind he snugged his uniform, settled his hat into place and walked a bit heavier than normal which allowed his spurs to announce his presence to his waiting subordinate commanders.

As he entered his conference room, his captains and their attendant non-coms all stood respectfully at O'Brien's call to attention. Someone who was in all likelihood Rosie had ensured that there were beverages available - at his place was his 'best kaptin evar' mug. His XO was making amends for her earlier prank, it seemed.

As he took in the scents and sights of the room, there seemed to be a wariness of sorts. He'd made a name for himself over the past months, but it seemed as though there was some underlying concern that the legend wouldn't match the Major. There was a moment of clarity, Gryzzk realizing that he was being tested as much as the figures that sat at the conference room.

"At ease, all." Gryzzk settled in, gesturing to the holo. "I will be having meetings with you all individually over the next few days; during those we will be going over individual ship needs and concerns. For the moment, we will be discussing the Legion as a whole. Every ship is currently stood down pending repairs and refits - and in one case, existence. Some of the changes will be extensive as we will need to prepare for the possibility of other species joining our ranks. Our armaments for combat will be both ballistic and energy-based, and I recommend tactical expertise in both prior to shakedown. To aid in this we will be conducting exercises once the ships have been certified and sounded with proper XO's in attendance. Now then, insofar as immediate personnel requirements - Captain Waniul, where is your First Sergeant?"

The Hurdop lifted her head fractionally. "I have found multiple candidates qualified to act as Chief of the - as First Sergeant of the Twilight Hurdop, Cousin Freelord. I will conducting final interviews and selecting the most suitable tomorrow." Her fur fluffed slightly as she spoke the naval terminology instead of the cavalry rank.

Gryzzk took a light sip of tea, finding it to be outstanding. "This brings me to a second point - familial relationships within the companies. For those of you unaware, Captain Waniul is my cousin through marriage; my secondwife serves in my company armory. We will have families, marriages, pregnancies, and all the attendant problems. You've all been vetted by Captain Rostin with my full endorsement of his actions. That means you possess the wherewithal to deal with such events appropriately - these happenings are not uncommon in the Hurdop Navy and I encourage those unfamiliar with their ways to seek counsel from them. Now, with respect to personnel; myself and Captain Rostin will be making parts of our current company available for transfer in order to provide the new recruits a veteran presence - however we will expect that you not raid our ranks too deeply." Gryzzk paused for a moment. "You may not take my head chef nor my Chief Engineer. Anyone who even considers it will find yourselves explaining your actions to myself as well as my Executive Officer."

Rosie's voice came over the speakers. "Anyone dumb enough to do that gets a free set of new chiclets from the doctor, and fuck the C's on your sweaters. Find your own fuckin' cajun god of food and your own Miracle Max." Fortunately Rosie was polite enough not to divulge the particulars of her relationship with Chief Tucker.

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "In any event, the last item I will expect from all of you is independence. It is a trust I was given in the early days of the Legion, and it would be a poor reflection on my character to refuse to extend that same trust. Your company, your rules - keeping in mind that we are here to do two things. First, we're here to be profitable. Second, we're here to ensure that everyone under our command gets to collect their own pay. Am I understood?" There was a general assent, and Gryzzk continued. "Now then, if you have unresolvable issues or general questions, I will answer them if available."

Gryzzk nodded, standing and straightening his uniform automatically. "Then dismissed to your companies. Begin listing your needs, and we will begin to prioritize appropriately and begin work tomorrow. The enlisteds may have the day off, but we do not."

The other commanders filed out, talking quietly among themselves.

Once the room was his alone, Gryzzk took a sip of tea, re-seating himself. "XO?"

Rosie's form glided into the room. She was attired in full formal dress and looking every inch the proper trooper. "XO Rosie reports, Freelord Major."

Gryzzk flicked an ear lightly at her shameless attempt to stave off punishment. "I would like to hear a story; this story will explain how it came to pass that our Pavonian guests were given hormonal scribblings as a formal report of this company's actions?" Gryzzk leaned forward slightly, preparing himself for a grand believable fiction.

Rosie's form flickered for a bare instant as she devoted an exceptional amount of processing power to her explanation. Her scent was humble as she spoke. "There were multiple tactical reasons; first - by giving the Pavonians a dossier inclusive of fictive actions, they would be psychologically off-balance. They have multiple notions about each species in the clan and I wished to present an alternative view as rapidly as possible - this will have them ever vigilant and learning. Secondly, each of the stories presented has a grounding in incidents that have taken place aboard ship or on shore leave. So in effect, it was not unlike the parables that they themselves utilize." There was a weak smile on her face. "In short, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Gryzzk took a long breath. "I cannot refute that they will be vigilant. However, I fear that their vigilance will be directed toward our groins and not our tactics. Additionally, my lack of knowledge with respect to your dossier left me in a very poor position with having to explain the actions of my subordinates. Accordingly, you will confine your personality matrix and holographic emitter to the bridge beginning at sixteen-hundred-hours and continuing through until zero-six-hundred hours tomorrow. You will utilize that time to craft a dossier more suitable for our guests and present it to them with an apology when you are not reflecting on your actions." Gryzzk paused. "You may not invite Chief Tucker to the bridge for a sleepover. Nor manufacture an excuse for his presence on the bridge this evening. You will further advise Chief Tucker that he may not manufacture an excuse to be on the bridge. Am I clear."

There was a micropout from Rosie. "Yes Freelord. I will inform him now." There was a soft chirrup from the conference room comm as Engineering answered.

"Tucker's Turd Polishers where you won't believe our shit, Dookie speaking."

"Patrick, it's Rosie."

There was a soft sigh as Tucker prepared himself. "What'd the old man say, Purple Rose?"

"Dad grounded me for the night. I got homework. And you can't come over and play." Rosie sounded rather put out by the entire affair.

"I assume he's listening?"

"He is."

There was a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna take this moment to cash in one bright shiny 'I fuckin' told you so.' Flaunt the porn to the Terrans next time, darlin'. Tucker out."

Gryzzk stood, straightening his jacket again. "Now then. You have two hours to apologize to Chief Tucker. In the interim, I have an appointment for dinner that cannot be missed. Route any messages from Reilly's quarters directly to my tablet." He paused at the doorway, looking back at Rosie. "...Dad?"

Rosie half-smiled. "Can't call you Freelord Major all the time."

Gryzzk exited the bridge to find his ship...busy. Unfamiliar faces were in his ship, using the available company quarters as a makeshift hotel. He felt a slight pang of anxiety as he passed by scents he didn't immediately recognize - he was going to have to carve out time to speak with these individuals who had placed themselves indirectly at his call.

But first, he had to change for a dinner at Reilly's. This was going to be a challenge.

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