[Humans for Hire] - Part 189

\[[First](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1fqu23z/humans_for_hire/)\] \[[Prev](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1vbtdlw/humans_for_hire_part_188/)\] \[[Next](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1vi31cj/humans_for_hire_part_190/)\] \[[Royal Road](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/95169/humans-for-hire/chapter/3768576/chapter-189)\]

*Author note:* Getting the bedtime giggles from an award is the best thing to ever happen. Still amazed.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

*New Casablanca, Sulaco Tavern*

Like many bars on New Casablanca, the Sulaco tavern catered to a specific mercenary group - in this case the group known as Bad Moon. The decor was minimalist for a few reasons - not the least of which being the fact that the patrons tended toward destruction more often than not. With that came repair bills, and eventually the owners threw up their collective hands and simply re-printed the furniture on a weekly basis. What little there was on the walls consisted of a rotating series of newsprints and holostills extolling the virtues of various services that shared the name Marines.

It was into this particular wretched hive that Ramelod entered with no small amount of concern. Certainly he would obey the instructions given, but those who gave the orders seemed to be highly optimistic. 'Determine precise allegiance of Llensi. If confirmed compromised, retirement procedure is authorized. Do not engage directly.' All of this meant that he had to make friends and gather information quickly. It was possible that Llensi could be salvaged; but the longer she strayed from the path the harder it was going to be for him to guide her back. To that end, Ramelod had painfully re-done his shoulder clanmarks to appear as a member of one of the clans of fishers who almost never left their ocean boats.

From a few nights at Captain Jack's and Sparrow's, it seemed that the Bad Moon Company was held in particular disdain. 'Convention of genetic defectives' and 'so dumb they stare at juice cartons for hours because the label says concentrate' were among the kinder things mentioned. Which meant that was where he would find friends. Or allies. Possibly useful tools. But that was a bit more to the future than he wanted to investigate. First, he had to confirm if these individuals would even be useful. From his research, he was going to have to blend a bit.

So it was that he swaggered into the bar looking slightly unkempt and showing off his clanmarks proudly. Ramelod had to steel himself severely - the scents of the bar were almost overwhelming, Terran body sweat, colognes and perfumes to cover it, various inhalants and Terran alcohol made for a combination that was almost nauseating. He'd almost made it to the bar proper when he was stopped by a rather hulking individual wearing a off-maroon shirt and a sour expression.

"Fuck you think you're doing here, shitbird?"

Ramelod had found that to blend meant bravado, so he answered in kind. "Finding a drink and a job if you're good enough - if you have a problem with that I suggest you learn to live with it."

"I ain't gotta live with shit. Bad Moon. We eat concertina wire for breakfast and piss napalm, and this is our bar. You wanna go across the way to the gagglefuck over at LV-426; got more of your fuckweasels there."

"And if I think this is a better place for a drink?"

"Then you're thinking wrong. You wanna spot here, you best earn it. And before you even ask, ain't gonna happen."

Ramelod considered for a moment before throwing a hard punch to the questioner's stomach. From there the melee was spirited, however there was only one Ramelod and several Terrans. In the end, Ramelod was thrown out of the bar bruised and bloody. Once he staggered to his feet and shook his head to clear it, he saw a pair of Hurdop who appeared to be from naval clans. The two were shaking their heads in mild amusement before the apparent senior spoke.

"Our Terrans like their own space. We allow them that. However, Tyler indicated that you said something about a job."

"I. I did. I looked at the other legions, and decided that they were too undisciplined." Ramelod spat on the street. "Especially that Terran Foreign Legion."

There was an agreeable snort. "I'm sure Lady Kiole is trying, but her husband is cursed. Even if she doesn't know it." The senior shrugged. "Are you literate?"

Ramelod put an expression of mild shame on his face. "Somewhat. Letters don't catch fish."

"Why'd your clan toss you anyway?"

"The Clan-Captain and Clan-Engineer's daughters both found me desirable but detested each other. One of us had to go, and since I was simply a loadmaster..." There was a shrug. "Loadmasters can be bartered for. Engineers and captains are in slightly higher demand."

"Good enough. You'll need to learn if you want to advance - for now if you're serious, follow me to the Foreign Legion of Terra."

Ramelod followed.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

*Homeplate, Gryzzk's quarters*

As the morning scents invaded, Gryzzk had absolutely no desire to move. The evening had ended with more than a bit of amusement with Grezzk salvaging Waniul's dessert that was impressive - the jello was declared to be tangy instead of simply sweet. Waniul had promised a few times to take more lessons while in R-space with respect to cooking. After everyone had gone to bed, Gryzzk found himself the subject of attention from his wives, and sleep was delayed by pleasantly wearying activities.

His wives had both began the morning before him and set the children to their day before returning to the bed and attempting to stir him to motion. In response, Gryzzk simply groaned and pulled the blankets closer to his nose. This response resulted in both of his wives joining him for a long morning moment before Grezzk whispered softly in his ear.

"Last night was thoroughly enjoyable, my handsome hand. But it is time to face the galaxy and show it the scent of proper behavior."

Gryzzk opened his right set of eyes and glanced at her. "Are you quite certain?"

"Exceedingly. Your children deserve to see their father upright. If you will not be upright of your own accord, they will encourage you."

"Being surrounded by our children is not a bad thing."

"It is when you require a constitutional."

Gryzzk groaned softly. "Very well."

It was his good fortune that Lumisca was an able wrangler of children, as the three tarried under the morning shower far longer than was strictly necessary. Gryzzk found Kiole's hands tracing over his scars slowly, threatening to delay the morning even further before Grezzk playfully slapped her wife's hand away.

"We promised we would not, Lady Warrior."

"I am aware, but you are both testing that promise." Kiole nuzzled her spouses in turn.

"Remember this feeling when he comes home. For now, scoot. Breakfast awaits us, and then we have to prepare for our own journey."

As they dressed and moved to the kitchen to pick up their respective breakfasts, Gryzzk noticed there was giggling from the girls and a bit of embarrassment from Lumisca. Gro'zel was mostly in uniform, making sure she didn't spill her turkey sausage and eggs. Gryzzk flicked an ear curiously as he settled in with Glaud.

"Do I wish to know what's amusing?"

Nhoot looked around a few times. "We heard you and mama and mama having Special Time."

Gryzzk took a breath and cleared his throat. "Ah. Well...that is what parents do sometimes. It's how you get Ghabris and Glauds."

"Is Lumisca gonna become a mama too?"

The subject of the question coughed around her morning tea. "That, is not an appropriate question to ask the Freelord."

"Well, Auntie Waniul likes you. But that might be just cause you cook and she likes people who cook, an' you're both kinda jealous of each other for having what other's got." Nhoot pointed this out casually between bites of toast. "Even if R-Space scares you."

Lumisca's fur flared. "I am not a good cook."

"You're not as good as Mama Grezzk, but you're smart. And you take care of the babies good. That's what the holocasters say are good things, and they say we need babies. So you need a papa to help with making babies."

Gro'zel scrunched her face and decided to try changing the subject before it became more awkward. "Papa I have a question."

There was a pause as berries were stirred carefully into his breakfast porridge. "Yes Little Heart?"

Concentration was evident in her scent as the little girl tried to decide how to frame the question. "What if Baolet and Saifex don't like horses?"

"I think that's a question you should ask them. I'm sure if they know how important horses are to you they might want to try and learn more about them."

Gro'zel nodded firmly. "Okay. I think Hoban and Miroka are gonna ride horses too. Hoban says it's part of his Texasness."