Gabatrix: The Pirates of Palora
CMed (TheUniverseofCMed)
Prologue
“Crime is an ever-present constant in our society. However, the most disturbing of crimes are ones that are considered serious yet quickly pardoned by the strong, while the weak are left to face the consequences of breaking those same said laws. A wise leader is one that favors a crew that respects their leader, but recognizes fairness and justice for all of them, for if not, mutiny is all but inevitable,” Gular’Shel, 2309 AD.
……. It is 2351. At the dawning of the new year, the war between humanity and the other Itrean clans remains….
……. While an alliance exists between one of these clans, humanity’s enemies are not just the other clans but the criminals, pirates, and rogues that have degraded its society…..
……. An ongoing struggle remains in the Paloran system. Piracy and corruption plague the colony and its inhabitants. A military transport and its crew must find a way to counter this epidemic or face the reality that Palora is lost forever….
Chapter 1: January 22nd, 2351 AD
The curtain of darkness fills our vision. Our eyes are attuned to see light, and yet the only things that we see are the vast array of stars in the expanse of nothingness. Space has served as a conundrum. Even if we could live in it, the distance of the objects near us is so far away that it becomes meaningless. For the humans and the Itreans, to be trapped in this great void is a path to insanity.
Only the sound of my deep voice provides any hint of relief in the expanse of nothingness. There is no doubt to some that space is the ultimate frontier. It is a barrier that has to be overcome. Humanity had it quite easy during the beginning of its lifespan. There were too few people but plenty of land to expand upon. The air was breathable, and land cultivated to meet their demands. Even the harshest of weather could ultimately be overcome.
But the luxury of passing through the seas, moving through the deserts, or finding shelters in the ice-cold tundras serves as false glory for an infant race. The great black sea lies above them, almost mocking their achievements. While the stars serve as waypoints and guideposts, the true challenge remains. They lie trapped to live the fate of their home planet. Whatever happens to it can affect all of them.
Of course, you already know this, and I’m not here to placate the mundane. Instead, we alter our point of view and turn our gaze into an almost 100-degree arc. Our focus remains in the great void of the cosmos. But, in the distance, a pair of binary stars are much closer than they appear. Both of them seem to be infantile in their current states. They are recent stars, perhaps just past their protostar phase of about 1 to 2 million years old.
There is a faint haze of orange and yellow all around us. Since we sit at the northernmost edge, there is something else that fills our view. The countless scores of rocks, most being planetesimals, are debris that is slowly gathering to form into larger bodies. The hints of forming protoplanets can be seen as the solar system is ever so slowly developing.
We are essentially at the edge of a giant asteroid field. While taking up most of the material, the two stars have left a sizeable portion behind for at least five planets to eventually form in the millions of years to come. Since time moves at its current rate, it is almost a still shot for us. We only watch as the hundreds of rocks slowly float and move past us as new ones continue to fill our view.
Humanity would later identify the pair of young binary stars in 2110 as Clarisa and Zwicky, located over 5,000 light years from Earth. For the Itreans, we call this developing solar system “Wee’No *click* Breio Ho Hinta,” or “The Pale Forest of Hinta,” in the English language. It was only discovered 57,000 Earth years ago by Yutilian clan adventurists looking for new places to mine and exploit. While there was little to be found, a small observation outpost would be placed on the furthest protoplanet from the system, a common trait for all the clans as a symbol of claim. The outpost would be abandoned 5,000 years later and untouched for over 10,000 years. Young proto-systems, such as these, were not particularly valued due to the minimal high-value mineral content, but they would become one of the hundreds of cataloged early developing systems in Itrean astrology.
Despite the solar system being mostly untouched by Itrean hands, the Pale Forest of Hinta would see a slow revival during the rise of the Jalgren Empire. During the early days of Jalgren’s blockade fleets, most ship crews would work tedious lives of extreme boredom. This was mostly because the fleets were responsible for slowly breaking the resistance of Itrean planets that failed to surrender. While Itrean biology was quite resilient against physical harm and diseases, there was still the aspect of mental health. We called it “Victii’s Quv’eep” or “Enclosed Space Madness,” where continuous claustrophobic elements could drive crew members to insanity. Jalgren the Great was well aware of this potential mental health crisis and did his best to help create crew rotations to relieve this, but even then, only so much was done about it. The need to maintain the blockade fleets was a higher priority.
However, during the later part of Jalgren’s life, Itrean psychologists determined that the vast openness of space was a contributing factor. Agoraphobia mixed with claustrophobia was working together in harmony to create Victii’s Quv’eep. While animated backgrounds on space windows were often looked at as a source of relief, it didn’t help the blockade crews to know that outside their windows was nothing. Natural stimuli were needed.
Surprisingly, locations such as the Pale Forest of Hinta would become part of a vast network of mental trauma care for these Itrean crews. Ships would make voyages and remain in the dust patterns for weeks, allowing the crews to “heal.” It was determined that sentient beings, such as the Itreans, felt comfort in the vast asteroid fields. Even in the vacuum of space, these crews felt a sense of relief that outside was a forming solar system. The rocks and debris became companions even if they were inanimate objects. This, in conjunction with other relief practices, was used to help treat Victii’s Quv’eep. The solar system had a small value to play and would ultimately become one of the top 10 space tourist attractions for Itrean history until the Yutilian clan ultimately regained control of it following the demise of the Jalgren Empire.
By 8,000 years ago, the Pale Forest of Hinta had remained untouched and almost forgotten by most of the Yutilian population. Its need had declined and would slowly fade into obscurity until 7,000 years ago when a rogue group of Yutilian pirates, known as the “Zaza *Click* Wee’no Hinta,” or “The Forest Children of Hinta,” would declare their intentions to claim the solar system. With little to no resistance, the organization would filter in and make the field their home. From there, they began to launch their attacks, preying upon the countless civilian vessels outside of the solar system. For thousands of years, this group of pirates had managed to thrive, becoming the most dangerous organization outside of the other enemy Itrean clans. They were often armed by Shal’rein, Alara’jal, and Aksren clans to bolster their fleets to help ensure the pirates would plague the Yutilian clan for as long as they existed, a common tactic that lives to this day. Attempts to stop these pirates would result in failure as the enormous size of the asteroid field produced numerous hiding spots.
Finally, 1,000 years ago, the Yutilian clan amassed one of the largest campaigns to wipe out the pirates once and for all. It was a costly victory, taking over two years of continuous fighting in the solar system, but one that would decimate the organization. The Zaza *Click* Wee’no Hinta would be no more, but its survivors would flee to the unknown regions of the Itrean territories to revive as the Zaza anarchists that continue to exist to this day. The solar system would be reinforced with a few garrisons on the protoplanets to prevent the system from ever being taken again.
Or so they thought….
And yet, the Pale Forest of Hinta still carries one final legacy that lasts to this day. We see it when a floating hulk of a ship comes into view. Its distorted purple colorization is there, but the blast marks perforate its sides. Fifty years of dust and debris have gathered onto its hull, threatening to swallow the craft. Only the hints of the engine module and forward hull give any indication that it’s an old Shal’rein Gashren battleship, a relic of the Gok’shinta subclan before the ultimate unity of the failed United Itrean Republic.
The solar system had become overrun with the Emphra from 2282 to 2298. It was believed that the horrid ones were using the solar system’s numerous rocks to create spaceships so they could ram them into planets. About 14% of their fleet roster consisted of asteroids mounted with weapons and engines that would then be used to carry their liquid bodies onto a planet’s surface. While not completely effective, it proved to be just another attempt by the Emphra as to how far they were committed to spreading themselves throughout the galaxy.
It was here where my father, Gular’shel, would combat the Emphra menace. The Siege of Wee’No *click* Breio Ho Hinta would last for four months. It would be the second to final battle of the Emphra before the Siege of Emphra’Ka would begin. While losses were apparent, Gular’Shel had prevailed, luring the Emphra to their destruction several times before their resistance was broken. Even after the destruction of the Emphra, the Itreans would spend years sending large patrols to navigate the vast system. Even to this day, the T'rintar clan continually patrols the area, ensuring that there are no Emphra lurking behind the shadows, ready to strike and spread throughout the galaxy.
The cosmic melody is usually undesirable here, at least for one such as myself. The sounds of the converted radiation are chaotic, usually made by the vast array of moving rocks and the young stars that are still developing. However, one cannot enjoy the cosmic melody without a hint of chaotic music to know its boundaries. We come down to the single question and the most important of them all. Why is this relevant?
Unlike the guide that has been continually hounding you, there is a purpose to learning more about the Itrean people and why humanity must learn about their mistakes. With the sound of a flicking snap of a laser lighter, everything begins to grow dark. The asteroids, the developing planets, and the haze of the binary stars vanish from us. Within a few seconds, we watch as everything goes black…..
However, we slowly watch as a new scene emerges. The haze of glowing light isn’t present, replaced by only a single yellow star in the distance. Unlike the Pale Forest of Hinta, this system is well developed. Yet, we are surrounded by a vast array of familiar asteroids. Countless rocks, all seemingly moving in harmony, are caught in the orbit of its single yellow dwarf star. Behind us is the vast world, seemingly fractured by a well-placed hit of a wandering rogue planet. What is created is a shower of debris that has long settled into a long, thin line that revolves around its star. The rogue planet would further add to this debris field.
You are already well aware of this location. We’re in the Paloran system, one of the many places that the human race has called home. The asteroid field is named the Picarian Belt, the remnants of the planet Picaro. This would have been a planet similar to Venus if it weren’t for the violent collision that broke it apart. Regardless, the Paloran asteroid field has served as a great wonder for the UWA. It is one of the primary reasons why humanity has chosen this area for development. While the neighboring planet of Palora is considered to be a frozen wasteland to some, the point of the colony was to serve as a mining hub, a younger version of the Batrice colony. However, Palora offers a more habitable world with fewer mining ventures when compared to the latter.
It is the asteroid field that offers an abundance of mineral wealth for the growing colony. From our location, we stand in the Oracip sector, the other half of the Picaro field. While it’s not the largest of the two fields, it serves as a place for mining vessels to seek their fortunes. Much like the Pale Forest of Hinta, some have found the asteroid field to be comforting. From the center, the viewer is enwrapped by the countless rocks, some so close together that they can hug the viewer. Even now, we are caught in the seemingly endless stream of debris, floating alongside it as if we are one with it. While I often found the sights to be enjoyable, the cosmic melody still produces a chaotic tune.
However, there are others who have found it more enjoyable than the majority. The humans do not know what or how it happened, but sometime in the early development of Palora, a group of rogues settled in the dense asteroid field. Some thought they were disgruntled miners who were maltreated by their superiors. Others thought that they were an estranged religious cult that thought that Picaro was the promised land denied by their gods. Then, there are others that have simply lost their minds. Their motivations were not entirely apparent, but what was known was that they began to prey upon other mining vessels. Eventually, they became known as the Nueva Organización Estrella de Valentina Agustina or, as they would be later known, the Nova Pirates of Palora. The name Valentina Agustina was supposedly the first leader to start the raids, believing to follow the path of the pirate Raïs Hamidou, another name that others would call them. Whatever their motivations were, they proved to be a menace to the UWA, raiding countless mining and exploration vessels that wandered into the field, one that continues to this day.
If one is to know the history of my people, then you are well aware that history has a tendency to repeat itself even in the hands of humanity. The asteroid field is the lifeblood of Palora. It feeds the system, providing an economy. It is a fragile one that teeters on the brink of collapse. As the war with the other Itrean clans continues, the Picarian asteroid field threatens to escalate. The overstretched UHN will no longer be able to protect civilian ships that reside in it. Any long-term strategist can now foresee the looming disaster that resides in this sector.
While I know of the existing issues, I also see it as an opportunity. Indeed, it served as a proving ground for my eventual command of the UHN Lifen, a place for my mate to become XO alongside me. It is also where I believe that one of my crew members will eventually find peace in his sanity.
A true leader is one who knows the issues and benefits of their environment. Even the asteroid field of Picaro lies not in its mineral wealth but in something else. There is no denying that I often find myself observant with that of Master Sergeant Richmond Stone, or as some of my crew have happily called him “Avalanche.” Stone is perhaps a crew member that I hold in high regard, not only for his expertise in marine combat but also as a warrior. He would almost make me believe in the rare Itrean concept of “Gklo *Click* Potresfa,” or as the humans would call it, “Reincarnation.” At times, I wondered if Stone has a Shal’rein spirit in him, even if his family history may prove far more than it seems.
The concept of my third in command is a human who, for all intents and purposes, is a prime example of the fierceness of the human spirit and its willingness to survive. My mother believes in the concept of “Olrem’tre’kon.” There is no direct translation, but it serves as a philosophical view. To her, she views the ship and crew as a solar system, whereas she serves as the star and the lower subordinates as the planets and moons that revolve around her. To her, a solar system is a family. However, contrary to most preconceptions, stars are tugged and pulled by their planets. If there were a large enough planet by sheer mass and weight to equal its parent star, it would be enough to yank the star around in binary orbit with one another.
By applying that same type of thinking, there are times I wonder if Stone is a gas giant, the largest of them all, caught in my little “solar system.” One would ask, “Is he orbiting me? Or am I orbiting him?” Perhaps it is best to let you figure that out.
For now, I must conclude my little tour of the cosmos. Today, a cook is to arrive along with a couple of long-awaited associates…..
With a snap of the metal laser lighter, the scene changes. Everything goes dark as we hear the sounds of a black cloth patch being applied. Perhaps it is an eyepatch, one that darkens our vision till everything goes black.
*******
As the light slowly returns, the planet of Palora comes into view, brightening the dark-filled fringes of space. The surface of light blue, white snow-covered mountains and white clouds tend to consume much of the scene. The frozen wastes are masked by the few cities that dot its entire surface, including a few tiny, melted lakes that dot the equator.
While Palora dominates the scene, there are dozens of unnatural objects that operate far above orbit. At least forty leased T’rintar Ikra battleships operate in two fleet formations alongside several Magellan and Nelson class Battleships. The gray cylindrical hulls, spinning centripetal rings, and lights show that there is a defensible military presence. Away from the fleets are an array of civilian vessels heading down to the planet's surface or docking with the ringed gate array.
Fort Redentor is a prominent marker in space where the large space station is tethered to the planet’s surface. Shaped like a cross, the endpoints consist of docked freighters that are loading and unloading cargo. Below the ring is a giant spinning centripetal ring where workers and civilians work to maintain the facility.
Upon closing in on Fort Redentor, a glowing blue vortex erupts from the gate array. The wormhole has synced perfectly. In several seconds, a small gray cylindrical craft appears and exits from the portal.
The scene zooms upon the craft, revealing it to be a typical civilian Argas shuttle. Its cigar-shaped hull carries a pair of small protruding engines mounted on the aft ventral section of the hull. In the bow section is a pair of small protruding mechanical arms. The ship continues to get closer and closer till we see past the lit forward area of the hull. We zip past to see the internal compartment of an enclosed cabin where the few occupants are sitting, facing one side, strapped in as they can see a few lit monitors showing the live cameras outside the shuttle.
The three individuals are all quite familiar. One is a pale-faced man with short black hair, being no more past his thirties. He’s dressed in a white and black garment and pants with gold buttons, the fanciful attire of a master chef. On his left is a yellow and orange colored Shal’rein. She has blue eyes, and her hair is black with hints of blue streams added to it. The anthro shark-like species has become a more common sight among human civilians as the T’rintar clan alliance remains. Seemingly tall and strong, the Shal’rein, much like the Yutilians and Aksren, have formed the staple of the Itrean race, albeit being much taller and physically stronger than the three. The Shal’rein woman wears green and purple semi-spandex-style clothing that covers much of her body, from her shoulders, chest, fins, arms, tail, and down to her legs. A pair of grenade-pin earrings hang from her fin-like ears.
Sitting on the other side beside the man is a more muscular shark-like woman. She is taller and has bulkier arms. She has grey skin and purple hair with red eyes. She also wears similar spandex clothing, but her more muscular tone doesn’t hide the fact that she has a larger chest.
“Ugh…. almost there,” Bransen said. The man shifted his magnetic boots, reminding him that he was in a no-gravity environment. He turned his head to look at Girsha’lar, picking at her uniform.
“Something wrong with your uniform?” Nir’vina asked. The sly smile and a thin, raspy voice echoed in the interior. She almost seemed to be mocking the other Shal’rein.
“Ergh….,” Girsha’lar grunted. An aggravated look could be seen on her brow and snout before she finally relented.
“You, ok?” Bransen asked.
“Green and purple….,” The Itrean shook her hair, making it float frivolously around in the lack of gravity.
“Heh,” Nir’vina snickered.
“I do think the green clashes with your looks,” Bransen said. “But you still look great.”
“Engh….,” Girsha’lar grunted again.
“This is your pilot speaking,” a female voice echoed in the cockpit and passenger area. “We’ve cleared Fort Redentor’s gate and are en route to the UHN Lifen. We will be docking in five minutes.”
Bransen briefly looked at the camera feed. He and the other Itreans could feel their bodies being moved as the shuttle’s thrusters were making subtle turns. Outside, the man could see the shuttle en route to a distant, boxy-looking ship. This had to be the Lifen.
“An ugly ship,” Girsha’lar commented. “Makes the Shal’rein ships look attractive in comparison.”
“Are you sure you’re ok?” Bransen asked.
“Someone is grumpy,” Nir’vina replied with a smile.
“Ugh….I just can’t believe that I have to wear green,” Girsha’lar continued. “I never thought the day when I would be serving the T’rintar.”
“You aren’t,” Bransen countered. “No different than me being the cook.”
“She’s just bothered to have to serve under our former Adjunct,” Nir’vina said. “Maybe there’s more….”
“Don’t….,” Girsha’lar cut her off.
“Even if you get to shoot some things?” Nir’vina countered.
“In a transport? The humans are too afraid to fight the other Itrean clans.”
“Weren’t you the one interested in going to the Lifen?” Bransen asked.
“I went because she’s going,” Girsha’lar pointed at the orange Shal’rein. “It’s her fault. Don’t blame me.”
“Yeah, but you still decided to go.”
“And she wants some dick from a….” Nir’vina tried to say.
“Don’t!” Girsha’lar countered. She practically reached past Bransen and at Nir’vina’s arm. The response was enough to cause Nir’vina to clap her hands in appreciation, happy to see that her mate was triggered by the countless mockery made against her.
“Oh, this will be so fun,” Nir’vina countered as Girsha’lar remarked. “Fight or no fight. They’ll be so many explosions….,” The Shal’rein woman leaned her head to Bransen’s. “Place for me and Girsha’lar to give birth. Place for making bombs and…..BOOM!” Her words echoed loudly in the passenger area.
“Now you’re making me nervous,” Bransen countered. His voice didn’t hint at any apprehension.
“Heh, heh,” Nir’vina began to stomp her feet. She wore a pair of magnetic wrappings on her feet to keep them from floating in the zero gravity. The man could see that her wife was giddy, excited to be coming aboard. He knew why he was making this adventure. Both of the Shal’rein were special to him. The lingering thoughts of his past life were going to be replaced with something new.
In the distance, the Lifen was slowly getting bigger. The military transport wasn’t anything glorious or spectacular, especially when looking at the sleeker UHN battleships, but that wasn’t the point. Even Bransen knew that a unique captain was commanding it. There were only a couple of Itreans that were serving the UHN, but this one was the CO. He remembered the conversation that he had weeks ago. She was seemingly intelligent and cunning.
However, he knew his wives more and more as time had passed. Nir’vina was closing in on a long-lost element. With Girsha’lar, there was more of something else. It was both the desire to not be on the ship and go home, back to Cebravis.
“We can still head back,” Bransen told Girsha’lar.
Girsha’lar began to tilt her head a little bit as if she were in conflict. Nir’vina paused and looked at her mate. Her excitement began to die down, showing a hint of seriousness.
“For a moment, I really wanted to be in your home,” Girsha’lar remarked. “Give birth there at the beach. Now I have to curse at my own clan for making me wear this….” She gestured to her green and purple uniform. “My own people made me wear this.”
“So, in fact, you don’t want to fight Itreans?” Bransen asked.
“I just….. history is repeating. It’s annoying.”
“Maybe…..the Captain will let you wear something else?”
“Itrea’s Embrace, I hope so. Maybe with something that has more purple in it.” Girsha’lar gripped her hands tightly to her knees. “Have my own gun back…..and kill some Aksren.”
“Or blow them up,” Nir’vina added.
“I just wonder how their galley is going to be set up,” Bransen remarked as he shook his head. “I’ve served in the Chairman’s yacht, but I don’t know how a military ship will be….”
Girsha’lar folded up her arms as the shuttle made a few more course changes. By now, the Lifen had gotten big enough on the camera feed to gather far more details of the ship. The vessel was that of a gray box transport, armored on all sides with sets of AIO weapon turrets on the side bow and top sections of the hull. From their angle, the planet of Palora was far to the left, with a bow section pointing away from the surface. Behind the lander transport was a spinning centripetal ring module. Behind that was a power module and engine section.
“Well….,” Bransen remarked. “At least the ship will have gravity onboard. I couldn’t even cook on the yacht. We had to be on a planet to make something. Otherwise, it was all pre-dried food…..horrible crap.”
In a couple more minutes, the shuttle would dock on the side of the ship. Bransen knew where he and the others’ next stop would be. The man could feel the warmth of Nir’vina’s hand as she enveloped his. Despite her excitement and giddiness, he could see that she was caring for him. For now, they had to wait a little bit longer…..
*******
Around ten minutes would pass. The interior passageway of the centripetal ring was well-lit. Upon exiting the elevator, Bransen stumbled slightly from the induced gravity, but Girsha’lar caught him.
“Umph….,” Bransen remarked. “Even a small visit in zero gravity is enough to throw me off.”
In their hands were an assortment of bookbags, handbags, and belongings. Bransen could note the line of doors that led to various rooms on both sides of the hallway. Using centripetal force, the spinning ring of the ship ensured that there was gravity as long as you were in it. The interior seemed relatively cozy. The concept of the ring had two directions: left or right. And, if you kept walking in one direction, you would eventually loop yourself back to where you were.
“Oh….I thought I heard somebody coming out of that elevator,” a man remarked. “Thought it was our new guests.” His voice showed a hint of happiness in it. Bransen, Nir’vina, and Girsha’lar turned to look at one of the crewmembers who approached the three. He had black hair and was dressed in a red and blue jumpsuit uniform, the standard dress code of the crew members seen so far. His face had the former Japanese and European complexions mixed together. He didn't take long to approach the three.
“Looks like you need help,” the man said.
“No….,” Bransen grunted. “I’m ok.” He shifted his bag, and the sounds of metal clinking against metal reverberated in the hallway.
“Where’s the Adjunct…ehh…,” Girsha’lar corrected herself. “The Captain’s quarters?”
“Yeah, follow me,” the man said as he walked ahead of them. “My name’s Mizu, your ship's guide. I’m also one of the pilots. Sorry to not reach you at the airlock sooner.”
“Ehhh….it’s alright,” Bransen said as the group walked forward. Mizu tried to walk backward as he looked at the Shal’rein.
“Girsha’lar and Nir’vina, right?” Mizu asked.
“Yes,” Girsha’lar said. She quickly reached forward and grabbed one of the shoulder-strapped bags from Bransen’s left side in an effort to take some of the weight off him.
“I keep hearing all that metal….”
“Yeah, it’s my best pots and pans,” Bransen said.
“Really? You didn’t have to bring them. We got all the kitchen equipment on this ship.”
“That’s what they all say. I know better….”
Mizu chuckled as they kept walking. “I can’t believe it’s you. Bransen, the grand champion of the UWAF.”
“Well, I’m just a cook now.”
“Still….,” Mizu made a mocking swing with his right fist in the air. “I think it’s awesome to have you onboard.”
“No appreciation for us, huh?” Girsha’lar commented.
“Oh, don’t worry. I saw the fight between you and Bransen on the UWAN. Wham….right in the….”
“Oh….nevermind….”
“Heh, heh,” Nir’vina chuckled a little bit.
Mizu turned to look at the final destination before coming to a stop. “Ah, here it is,” he told them. It was among one of the many closed doors. “The CO’s quarters.”
Bransen looked at the door that was labeled “CO Shira and XO Javier’s Stateroom” in both English and Chinese lettering.
“Here….,” Mizu explained. “You can put down all your bags since I know the Captain and the XO wanted to speak with you first before settling in.”
“You have quarters for us?” Nir’vina asked as she began to put down her stuff. The other two replied in earnest. Bransen flexed his hands a little bit in relief.
“It’s all set. As soon as you finish talking with the CO, I’ll take you to your quarters and give you the passcodes so you can settle in and get yourself situated.”
“Big enough for all three of us?”
Mizu shook his head and shrugged. “As big as human quarters can get.” He gestured to the door panel and stepped aside.
Girsha’lar was the first to walk up to the panel on the side of the closed door. Her four fingers seemed ready at first. However, they retracted back into the palm of her hand. Even her finned tail twitched for a moment before she pressed the button.
“Have they arrived?” a male voice echoed from the panel.
“Yes, sir,” Mizu replied.
“They may enter….”
Mizu remained beside the three as the door slid open. Bransen was the first to enter, with Girsha’lar and Nir’vina following close behind. The scent of cigarette smoke filled the air, but it wasn’t too distracting. This was the first time seeing an interior room of the ship besides the wayward closed doors along the way. It seemed that the stateroom was quite lavish. It was large enough for even Girsha’lar to avoid bumping her head onto the ceiling. Bransen could note that the interior was well-lit. There was a series of alcoves allocated to beds, along with display screens mounted on portions of the wall. In the center was a table where the captain was sitting next to.
Standing by the table had to be the man who spoke in the panel intercom. Bransen only spoke to this person once. He was most likely part Peruvian in both descent and facial features. He had a black beard and mustache that ran down his face. He wore a red and blue officer’s jumpsuit uniform, the typical uniform of a UHN officer. Unlike Mizu, it was more well-defined, with red rank insignias that pressed over the top shoulders.
Shira was very similar to how Bransen remembered seeing her in the communication feeds. She was Shal’rein, having shark-like features and purple hair that were tied into a bun, unlike Girsha’lar. However, Shira’s hair was designed to cover the right side of her face and snout. Bransen did note that Shira’s snout was more rounded than Girsha’lar and Nir’vina, knowing that her family line most likely descended from the Gok’shinta subclan. In the captain’s four fingers was a lit cigarette and an ashtray sitting on her table. She also wore an officer’s uniform, but it was customized for her fit since the fins and long tail protruded through it. One thing that Bransen questioned was why Shira covered one side of her face. She wouldn’t be able to see from the hair that blocked her right eye. But he wouldn’t get a chance to think about it as the door closed behind the three.
Girsha’lar’s eyes turned the moment that they met with the human officer. She instead focused on Shira. Nir’vina was the first as she closed her fist and hit her chest. Her tail turned to the left side, and she did a light bow with her head as a form of salute. Briefly confounded, Girsha’lar also looked at Shira and repeated a similar action towards the captain.
“Ehmm…,” Bransen reacted, awaiting a response. He looked at Javier as Shira took a drag from her cigarette.
“You may drop your salute,” Shira calmly said to the women before they relaxed their stature.
“Chef Hart Bransen,” the officer introduced himself. “Good to have you onboard.” He briefly glanced at the Shal’rein. “My name is Javier, the XO of the Lifen.”
“Ummm….yes,” Bransen remarked. “I’m sorry if I don’t know enough about military protocol and all that.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. These are unusual times, but we still treat things like a professional environment. I recall reading that you served as the head chef under Chairman Aniruddha’s administration.”
“Yep. We traveled around to the other systems, but this is going to be a first when it comes to being on a ship for a prolonged period.”
“Well, we want to make sure that you’re comfortable, Bransen. We can’t promise this ship is a pleasure yacht, but it is what it is.”
“Seems….cozy enough. How many cooks do you have on the ship?”
“Two, although I wouldn’t exactly use the vernacular.”
“Five,” Shira calmly interjected. “Two culinary specialists, two in training, and yourself.” She took another drag of her cigarette.
“Hmm….you’re including Marcelle, our navigator,” Javier said to Shira. “We need her as our navigator.”
“Culinary….specialists?” Bransen asked.
“It’s the UHN term for ‘military cooks.’” Javier explained. “Given military training and basic training in cooking…. it’s…. what we call a crash course in food preparation.”
Javier was a man who seemed polite and down to Earth, at least from how Bransen could see it. He only spoke with him once in the last few weeks. However, Bransen did know of the prior history that Javier and Girsha’lar shared. The chef kept it in the back of his mind so as not to bring it up. Shira’s tone was calm and seemingly collected, even more so than Javier's. Bransen was already used to this. He knew that Shira was incredibly intelligent and specific with her conversations. She never reacted emotionally to what he had seen so far.
“I can see why you needed a professional,” Bransen remarked with a hint of pride. “Probably eat a lot of the freeze-dried and pre-packaged crap.”
“It doesn’t beat the food at the Aphadus bases, for sure.”
“Hmmm..,” Bransen grunted and shook his head. “Breakfast and dinners is what I’ll do. All I ask is that I have a day off in the week. Aniruddha might have been a little picky in his lunches, but we still had a pretty large staff to handle his officials. With 80, that’s a pretty high number to serve.”
“That will be handled by you when you speak with the cooking staff,” Shira remarked. She tapped the broken ashes onto her tray. “I can easily assume you have brushed up on Shal’rein cuisines?”
“It’s good,” Nir’vina happily responded.
“I can promise you, Captain,” Bransen said without hesitation. “That everyone leaves with a smile on their faces.”
“Then I expect to see your skills in action tomorrow then, Chef Bransen,” Shira said, her single yellow shark-like eye gazing into him. “And perhaps I can teach you a few recipes brought forth by the finest of Itrean chefs. Even a master, such as yourself, always has room to improve.”
“We’ll see,” Bransen smiled.
“Now then, may I have a private word with Girsha’lar and Nir’vina?”
“Yeah,” the man pointed outside the door. “I’ll just wait outside.”
Bransen still had questions to ask, but he knew they would be answered in time. The door opened before he stepped out. Shira took another drag of her cigarette, waiting for the door to close, leaving just Girsha’lar and Nir’vina standing ahead of the two officers.
“You seem hesitant,” Shira calmly said to Girsha’lar. “Almost timid….”
“I’m not timid….,” Girsha’lar reacted. She gave a slight inflection of anger that Shira picked up on.
“I see that prison time and mateship have reforged you.”
Girsha’lar’s nostrils flared a little bit. Nir’vina briefly looked at Girsha’lar to see her reaction. Javier remained quiet.
“How are the babies coming along?” Shira asked both of them.
“Healthy,” Nir’vina replied, briefly pressing her hand to her stomach.
“….Good,” Girsha’lar answered.
“I have a Gersin named Iz’tre onboard,” Shira explained. “As a future mother myself, I would ask for you two to make sure to acquaint yourselves with her. A future nursery has been established so it won’t interfere with your ship’s duties.”
Girsha’lar nodded her head.
“What are we to do?” Nir’vina asked.
“I assume you haven’t forgotten Itrean military etiquette.”
“I know it all too well,” Girsha’lar replied.
“Do you?” Javier asked. It was the first time Girsha’lar really looked at the man. The few seconds of eye contact said it all before Girsha’lar looked away. She began to flex her fingers to her sides as Shira took note of it.
“Girsha’lar, Nir’vina,” Shira explained. “I expect both of you to serve this ship with honor and distinction. Regardless of what this ship is and its purpose, it is still a part of the UHN. If you have any hesitation accepting that, then you need to let me know.”
“Do….do we have to wear these uniforms?” Girsha’lar mumbled her question.
“You will address her as 'Captain,'” Javier scolded her lightly.
Shira lightly and momentarily raised her fingers to gesture to Javier to relax. “The answer to your question is yes. Any Itreans that serve in a civilian manner will wear Itrean or human attire befitting of this working environment. You are warriors.”
“We don’t serve the T’rintar clan,…..Captain,” Girsha’lar countered.
Shira put her cigarette into the ashtray to douse it. “How about I answer your question with a question?”
“Oh no….,” Girsha’lar reacted. Javier could see that Girsha’lar knew what was coming next. Her previous adjunct always seemed to have the answers to any argument. Shira calmly rested her hands on the table. Javier had been with Shira long enough to recognize the most subtle expression of amusement.
“You have three choices to make, all that come to your benefit,” Shira explained. “You can return home to Cebravis and remain out of the war. You would be able to birth your child in peace, away from the fighting. The second choice is that you choose to join the UHN Marine Corps, undergo their training for a few months, and wear a different uniform than the one you are currently wearing. Or you serve as a warrior under my command. All Itrean warriors that serve on this ship wear the colors of green/black, green/red, or green/purple, as instructed under the T’rintar military dress code Voi *click* N, B, Cz. Which do you prefer?”
“Girsha’lar, it doesn’t matter to me,” Nir’vina told her. “We fight our enemies. We blow them up. It is the Shal’rein way.”
Javier noticed that Girsha’lar was thinking. He knew Shira was trying to clear any hesitation that Girsha’lar had left. Finally, she relented.
“I will serve, Captain,” Girsha’lar complied. “Perhaps…..green and black.”
“Green and red for me,” Nir’vina said.
“Really?” Girsha’lar reacted in anger to Nir’vina.
“Matches with my stripes,” the orange Shal’rein tilted her head and smiled.
“Good,” Shira said. “Under my ship, you will serve alongside other humans and Itreans of different backgrounds and subspecies, those that have earned their title and rank. You will be granted the rank of lesser centurion until I see fit to return your ranks to you.”
“Is that clear?” Javier added. There was a hint of anger in his voice.
“Perfectly,” Nir’vina said.
“…..Yes…..,sir,” Girsha’lar relented. Her head was slightly lowered.
“And….,” Shira lightly glanced in Javier’s direction. “That I also expect you to offer the same level of professionalism as those over you would do the same.”
Girsha’lar nodded her head. Nir’vina replied in earnest as well.
“Now that it’s settled, Lesser Centurion Girsha’lar, starting tomorrow at 0800, you will report to Centurion Ioren. She is the Chief of Security on this ship. She will train you on the patrol rounds of this ship and basic internal security.”
“I want no complaints from Ioren,” Javier stated. “Not one peep….”
“…..Yes, sir,” Girsha’lar replied.
“Lesser Centurion Nir’vina,” Shira continued, causing Nir’vina’s lip to curl back a little bit in anticipation. “You will report to Petty Officer Ramirez, my Weapons Officer. You will learn and assist him with his duties on the ship. I will also need your expertise. Do you think you can construct a UHN Mark 1E EMP Warhead for me?”
Javier watched as a big grin slowly formed on Nir’vina’s face. She began to fidget with her hands at the sheer sound of the idea. Girsha’lar almost rolled her eyes at seeing her mate drool at the concept.
“Yield?” Nir’vina asked.
“Non-nuclear,” Javier stated.
“I know…..I know, sir,” the orange Shal’rein quickly nodded. Her finned tail wagged. “Electro-magnetic pulses still make pretty booms. Yield?”
“I’ll let Ramirez explain the detailed specifications,” Shira explained. “Consider it a top priority. If you can make one, I may order more.”
“Consider it done by the day, Captain,” Nir’vina happily said. Javier felt the hint of apprehension of how eager she was to get started on the project.
“After you’ve situated yourself. The parts will have to be shipped in before you can get started.”
“It will still be done, heh…..heh,” Nir’vina practically held her enclosed fists up in joy.
“Good….,” Shira leaned back on her chair. A subtle hint of a smile could be seen on the emotionless captain.
“Any further questions?” Javier asked.
“Yes….our guns,” Girsha’lar asked.
“In respect with Shal’rein tradition,” Shira explained. “You may construct new firearms after you’ve reported to your stations. However, only in your off time.”
Javier glanced over to Shira for making such a comment before looking ahead. However, the words seemed to calm and even relax Girsha’lar upon hearing that answer. The XO knew that many Shal’rein lived and breathed under the gun, especially in a variety of day-to-day living. If anything, firearms were almost a religion to them. To deny them that liberty was detrimental to downright sacrilege. Even Shira made sure to wear hers before their arrival, even if it was tucked below their line of sight.
Girsha’lar relaxed and saluted Shira. “I will obey, Captain.”
“Dismissed,” Shira said.
Javier saluted the two before they dropped theirs. With that, the door opened as the two Shal’rein left. The man remained as composed as he could, waiting for the door to close. The moment that it did, he turned and gave a concerned look down at Shira.
“This feels wrong,” Javier remarked.
“Their presence speaks louder than just words,” Shira said. Her hands were neatly parked onto her subtly distended stomach, kept hidden by her uniform.
“You know what she did…..what she did to me.”
“And I was the one that disciplined her. Yes, I’m quite well aware of it.”
“And you’re going to let somebody that may potentially hold a grudge against you serve on this ship? Carry a gun? Have access to everything?”
“You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment.”
“Emotions….she bashed my brains onto the floor and violated me.”
“In which you defeated her when she attacked you again,” Shira remarked before pressing her hands together. “We’ve had this conversation before. I can see that it still troubles you.”
Javier walked around the table to look at Shira directly. He had one hand pressed to it. The look of unease seemed obvious.
“And Nir’vina?” Javier remarked. “Ekrixiphilia? And you have her constructing warheads?”
“Nir’vina’s personality can be considered odd at times,” Shira explained. “But there is a reason why I want her here. She is one of the best demolition experts that I’ve ever interacted with. In some ways, I can see her as a similar rendition of our shuttle pilot, Dean. As I recall, you had similar preconceptions about his arrival.”
Javier nodded. “Dean has been....an interesting exception when it comes to his flying skills, that’s for sure.”
“And no doubt, you’ve not seen Nir’vina’s skills in action before. During her teenage years, she was once employed to scuttle a derelict building without damaging the nearby structures. Within a day, she applied the explosives, all of her own creation, and brought it down without a single scratch to the neighboring buildings. She managed to perform all of this without any help from tilons or computers. When she says that it can be done in a day, she can do it in a day.”
“And what’s stopping her from blowing this ship to pieces because she starts to feel frisky with her bombs?”
“The same thing that is affecting Girsha’lar’s judgment right now. What am I carrying that the two are also carrying?”
Javier relented. “That’s right.”