[Humans for Hire] - Part 206

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*Author Note:* Doing my laundry, pause...and see an award notification. Epic and thank you!

Additional: Hey, so [this story](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1rtwmmf/a_fair_deal/) got an [audio version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lT3f0Jizejc) courtesy of the dulcet tones of [NetNarrator](https://www.youtube.com/@NetNarrator)! Click it for a listen!

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*Vilantia Prime, Palace of the Throne*

The Throne's days were divided, after a fashion. There was the part of them that was sovereign of an entire planet, the arbiter of destiny for an entire world and absolute in authority. Then there were moments like the current one, where Vilantia's absolute ruler was letting the Heir to the Throne use the Most Royal Robes as a chewtoy. Minister Larine was frowning, and the Throne could detect more than a small amount of jealousy from the Minister of Culture.

"Minister. I am going to make a suggestion." Despite the wording, the tone and scent made it clear the suggestion was a polite order.

"As you will, my Throne."

"You are very much dedicated to your position. But you must take time for yourself; I think it is high time that one of our esteemed Ministers reviews the joint ventures of our worlds."

"My Throne? I fear I do not fully understand."

"The Hyla system has become a proving ground of sorts - there's enough there for both our worlds to make use of. Hyla II in particular, it's long been known as a world of low gravity but potentially we could take over the planet with crops. The outer planets and attendant moons have a wealth of minerals to feed Hurdop's industries well into the next generation. We could do well there if we were able to share. Both of our worlds are going to be donating derelict ships to craft a space station between Hyla III and IV to serve as neutral ground where we can have a touch of home, as it were. Your second duty will be to travel there and inspect the station."

"And the first?"

"Traveling to New Casablanca and consulting with the local governor there. They may have some manner of wisdom for us." The Throne remained quiet for a moment as they fed the heir from a bottle. "Also, it is well past the time when you should have found a spouse."

"Highness, I wish to do so, but the duties - the factions continue their silent war. There have been proposals, but each has come with a string, or a favor."

"Such is our lot." The Throne gestured. "Both of the Royal Consorts became so as favors repaid in my predecessors' time, before any of us knew how to form words. If you desire a spouse without political attendants, you could do far worse than New Casablanca."

"But...The Legions, they are. There are criminals there." Larine swallowed. "Hurdop. What if..."

There was an amused sound. "Yes, that would be scandalous. But it would also signify a blending of the ways in a manner that would be quite irrefutable, were that to happen." The Throne gestured toward the window. "My counterpart on Hurdop makes their own moves - our intelligence indicates that the Throne-Heir of Hurdop has become a parent recently, and seeks to intertwine the Royal Clan with the Freeclan O'Gryzzk through Kiole's daughter." For some reason, the Throne seemed amused at this.

"Highness, that is...we will have to counter our own." Larine frowned. "Could we make such a request of the Freelord?"

"The request awaits the proper moment. However, since Freelady Grezzk gave birth to twin sons, we would have to select one."

"Shall I arrange for him to be recalled?"

"No, we must do things properly and with some measure of subtlety. We will await an opportune time for our own arrangement, much like the Throne of Hurdop has done."

"As you command, Highness."

"Thank you. Now, I believe you have to pack for a journey."

The Minister of Culture bowed her obeisance and left, her mind already swirling - she could only take one secretary, both as a practical matter and as a matter of taking too many of her staff would allow one of the factions to possibly initiate a power play in her absence. More than that she was going to have to make a decision on the legitimacy of allowing clans to transfer between ministries, and the writings of the ancient philosophers had minimal guidance as to an entire clan moving to new allegiance. She was going to have to set a precedent of her own.

This was why she had no time to seek a spouse - and unless one literally fell through her office ceiling, one was probably not forthcoming. As much as she would do the bidding of the Throne, the idea of marrying one of those Legionnaires felt taboo in some way - and she was not in the habit of breaking a taboo.

In the Throne sitting room, the Minister of Science took the place of the Minister of Culture. The Throne sat with a cup of tea and flicked an ear as the aged scientist began his report without preamble.

"The working group for Vilaforming has yielded no theoretical barriers to the ancient findings, either here or Hurdop. We are currently engaged in laboratory studies to determine if the methodology for rehabilitating the soil is sound."

"And Greatclan Aa'Lafione?"

"They still give nominal obeisance to the Ministry of Culture, but their cadet clans are restless. The powerbase of the ministry is waning, and the clans sense it."

The Throne contemplated. "I do not like that, entirely. The pendulum swings, and despite recent events...the ministry serves a purpose. I would much rather they maintain equilibrium."

The Minister of Science kept his tone mild. "Perhaps then her fellow ministers should consult and give aid to the Ministry."

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*Terra Prime, Ponchatoula Louisiana, North American Confederation*

Gryzzk blinked himself awake. The bed was unfamiliar, but carried scents of contentment and pleasant nights. As the morning sun played warmth across his face, he could smell a very Terran breakfast being served somewhere. The bed felt too soft in some ways, but he put that up to the low gravity of Terra as he let the memories of the night before wash over him.

The food. Gryzzk inwardly swore that even were he to live another six hundred years there would never be a feast so fine as the one he and his company had enjoyed. Though a great deal of that was the company the meal was taken with. The food was delightful and portions were traded freely - it reminded Gryzzk of the Officer's barbecue with the Pavonians in some way, but with even less restraint. Gryzzk found some of his own portions replaced with unrecognizable foods but all edible and delightful. For her part, Gro'zel and the other children were eating and running at the same time, only stopping to hug a random person and thank them for the good food. As the night wore on the music changed from pre-recorded to live instruments played with more enthusiasm than skill, and Gryzzk found himself dancing around a bonfire with Gro'zel in a very simple manner, and then dance partners were traded freely - in one odd moment after he found himself dancing with Laroy's mother he discovered he was face-to-face (or more specifically, face-to-chest) with O'Brien for a few steps before they both quickly found new partners. The one part he praised himself for at this point was that he didn't help himself too much to the local drinks, because as the night settled into darkest dark and the energy of the night settled to comfort his translator finally decided to retire in a snit of displeasure, and Gryzzk was forced to pantomime to a degree for conversation as they took sticks and toasted marshmallows. The oddity of sorts came when he was handed a confection of sweet crackers, toasted marshmallows, and chocolate. One bite was quite enough, and he handed the rest of the confection to Miroka who was more than happy to share it with Hoban. It felt odd to him in some way - such a grand celebration with so many guests normally meant there was a special event happening, but he was left wondering what the cause for such a celebration would be. Finally he was able to catch Laroy as he was headed to a cooler for fresh libations, and the answer of "Celebratin' life" was...unsatisfactory. Although in fairness to Laroy, he was settled between Marie and Thérèse; if anyone was celebrating life at the moment it was him. It was also quite possible Laroy was 'hammered to the gills', as it were.

These thoughts and more occupied Gryzzk's mind as he finished his morning routines in an unfamiliar place. He moved out to the kitchen to see Gro'zel happily demolishing a plate of biscuits and  sausage gravy with juice and a small saucer of bacon on the side. He found Laroy's mother sitting next to Gro'zel, with the elderly woman making small girlish noises of a sort.

As he sat down on the other side, the smile brightened and a cup of coffee was procured. Propriety demanded that he enjoy it, so his sipped and worked on a neutral face.

"Y'hungry?" Gryzzk could easily discern where Laroy had gotten some features from as well as the voice. Gryzzk shook his head.

"No, thank you - I ate quite enough for some time last night."

There was a smirk and a bowl of what looked like porridge with a pat of butter and pepper was set in front of him. "There y'go. Grits and coffee - you'll need it."

Gryzzk flicked an ear but didn't debate the point - the grits were just porridge-like enough for him to convince himself he was eating a normal breakfast.

Laroy's mother smiled brightly as Gryzzk finished eating. "Good eatin' non? C'mon, Alex say he wanna take y'all hunting. He outside."

Gryzzk flicked an ear slightly. "Gro'zel, Papa's going to do papa things today. Can you stay here and keep your new friends safe?"

Gro'zel nodded. "Ya-huh! They like me. Everyone says I'm very strong and they wanna have me help with stuffs."

"Very well."

The squad met at the docks in varied conditions, but they were all wearing dark glasses in deference to the bright sun and simple fact that they all had hangovers that would have put lesser creatures (like Bad Moon Company) in the hospital. Larion didn't seem too far off, but at the same time there were many braids in his fur all along his arm and up his head. It was quite possible he'd been drafted to babysitter duty - or something else that Gryzzk didn't want to explore deeply. Along with the squad were Marie and Thérèse, both of who were dressed for the swamps and hanging on Laroy delicately. The collective scent was stoic suffering and a collective sense that nobody was going to be the first to say they couldn't. There were two coolers in each canoe, one marked Eat-n-Drink and the other marked Not Yet.

O'Brien grumbled softly as she drank deeply from a bottle of something called Gatorade - the name was probably not coincidental. "It was all dandy until they gave me a bottle without a label. Cheeky hotsauce rednecks."

Laroy grinned. "Cain't be that bad Sern't Major. 'Sides, you the one sayin' Irish can drink."

"Whiskey, aye. But your family recipe's some mad bastard's idea of a rat poison that doubles as a beverage. Almost as bad as that Vilantian rum."

Gryzzk harrumphed softly. "Vilantian rum is a fine thing."