[Humans for Hire] - Part 196

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*Author note:* An Award? While doing laundry!? Thank you!

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*Hurdop Prime, Eterina Acres*

Kifab held Mahlli carefully and watched as Rilaoi and Yorkime both walked up the path to the sun-porch. Beside Kifab, Jojorn was trying and even succeeding somewhat at restraining herself - though her grip on his shoulder was uncomfortably solid. Finally Jojorn's calm broke and she hurried toward her First Officer and gave him a one-armed hug and nuzzle. The two began laughing on the way to the porch, something that seemed unbelievable not so very long ago. Yorkime's gait was awkward, as it seemed he still wasn't entirely used to his new leg. Still, the reunion was joyful as the two seemed to be able to laugh about what had happened with Jojorn showing off her scars with a touch of pride talking about the new clanmark that was going on her shoulder when it was fully healed, and Yorkime demonstrating his new leg's prodigious ability as he jumped far higher than he had any right to before landing heavily.

Rilaoi made his way to the porch itself and settled quietly. "My friend - it is improper to bring ill scent to such an occasion, but I fear I must. The Agricultural Guild is...generous. However, they wish to be repaid for their largesse."

Kifab nodded to his own field. "I was wondering when you would tell me such news. They've been communicating with us regularly. They are...testing their authority over us."

"And? How much authority have they been able to exert?"

"Not much - I've been able to remind them of my former Lead Servant, and they go quiet for a few weeks, then they make another move." Kifab gestured at his tablet. "The latest; they press for laws to control the export of Vilantian spirits sourced on Hurdop."

"The Admiral Norrington's rum?"

"Yes - quite convenient that there is only one item currently produced in the entire Collective that fits that category. Eterina is reminding them of this right now in chambers."

"They don't have a counter-argument, do they?" Rilaoi remained hopeful even in the face of hopelessness, it seemed.

"They do - that the law will facilitate healthy trade while emphasizing that the bounty of Hurdop should go to Hurdop first."

"Any thoughts with respect to a counter?"

"None save to apparently receive the blessing of the Agricultural Guild before doing anything."

Rilaoi spread his hands. "Perhaps calling upon Gryzzk? I don't know what he would charge, but..." the words died in the botanists' throat at the scent of negativity.

"We can't ask him for two reasons. First, we don't know his rates, but it would be an imposition. Second, and this is possibly more important, there is legacy attached to his name - and not a good one."

"How bad?"

"Depending on who you ask. The kindest thing said is 'Kiole's Husband.' In other circles he is condemned like the Twenty-First Greatclan. I...haven't researched, but I hear things."

"Ah." Rilaoi looked to where Jojorn and Yorkime were already talking conspiratorially and laughing a bit. "They're so...resilient."

"They are. It's amazing."

"I've grown quite fond of Yorkime, when he is here. The...Guild wishes to use that."

"In what way?"

"For now, they want to know everyone who asks about the new boron mixture for the soil. They're willing to pay quite generously for the information. It seems a small thing."

"But we both know that it isn't."

"Quite."

There was silence between the two as they considered their options, only to be broken by Jojorn offering her advice.

"Ask Freelady Kiole. They make her to be a hero of the homeworld, bravely taking on the challenge of taming not just any Vilantian, but Gryzzk himself. They're on Vilantia, and they'll be here in a few days."

"Could that...work?"

"It could - but, be warned. She will be with her wife and all the children save Gro'zel."

That sentence rested uncomfortably in Kifab's nose.

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*Terra Prime, Cleveland Ohio, North American Confederation*

Gryzzk was moving quickly, however he kept himself neatly comported - years of being a Lead Servant had taught him that panic was contagious, and so he had to force himself to treat rushing toward the crisis at hand as simply a stroll to ensure the afternoon wine was properly decanted. Fortunately he had something of an opportunity as one of the Islanders was motoring toward the crisis at a grunt's pace.

"Tanuvasa, would you accompany me? I believe we have a similar destination."

The private was quick to adjust, clearing his throat even as he was quick to join him. "Sir, respectfully - we need to get there now."

"What is there?"

"Kid says they got a ton of explosives on beams and stuff. Says he's gonna detonate them."

Gryzzk sniffed the air a few times carefully to see if he could detect anything amiss. "So a child was able to smuggle enough explosives past all the security points in addition to multiple squads of infantry who know precisely what explosives smell like? If we are that incompetent, we will deserve all the legal action that comes from this in addition to explaining our abject failure to the gods. No, I choose to believe we know what we're doing. Do slow a bit, Misabel is running for two. Once we arrive take station opposite me, near O'Brien. I'll try to talk the situation out but if that fails, work with the Sergeant Major to blindside him. Misabel, please find a solid pillar and stay behind it."

The three did eventually arrive at the trouble area, with Tanuvasa moving to find the sergeant major and making a frightfully large wall next to her. Their focus was a young man, adolescent it seemed by height and by scent was feeling every possible emotion except reason. He was holding out a detonator and moving back and forth; on the detonator was a small light that seemed to be blinking in time with a harness of several packages around his upper legs and lower torso. He kept wiping his forehead and making his hair a complete mess, which...was probably reasonable given the amount of sweating he was doing.

"Just, just stay back I don't care!"

Gryzzk cleared his throat. "Pardon me."

The young man whirled for a moment. "Who're you?!"

"My name's Gryzzk. I should very much like to...know what's happening. I assume you're carrying that for some purpose?"

"Duh." There was a snort. "So, what're you the butler?"

"I like to think so. But I should like to know your name. On my world in times like this we are encouraged to exchange names, so that when we go to the gods we can tell them as much as possible about why we are before them."

"Oh. Kevin."

"Well Kevin. Now that we're here, is there some specific reason for this?"

Kevin's scent seemed to waver now that there was a focus of sorts. "Well...well...yeah. Yeah, there. There is." His eyes widened as he looked over Gryzzk's shoulder, his scent changing to something respectfully concerned.

There was a soft whisper in Gryzzk's ear. "Boss, there's a bunch of people here - I don't like the chances."