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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Auggy74 on 2026-02-20 16:00:33+00:00.

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___________

Draconis Cluster, Unaffiliated Collective Cargo Ship Divine Breeze

Itrop leaned back in his cushions. He hated R-space. If he was being honest, he hated space travel. Knowing that the only thing keeping him alive was a small bubble of artificially generated reality as it sidestepped the laws of physics in ways he couldn't comprehend was distasteful. Which was why he was sipping at his personal reserve of fruit liqueur as Bob stood watch.

"Bob, what is the probability that this is a trap?"

"Minimal. The new Hurdop Ambassador to Antares is not wasteful of resources. You currently have a large military force and Corial is seeking an accord. You have a mild advantage in force, however he has legitimacy. He can color your actions as appropriate."

Itrop stood, pacing to and fro before refilling his glass. "Has there been any news from Leung?"

"There was a transmission, but it was incomplete. We jumped to R-space prior to full receipt. The remainder of the message was corrupted."

"Give me what was received." Itrop settled, eyeing the projector.

On the holo, Leung's frame appeared, wearing the proper colors. His voice was calm and steady. "My lord I pray that this message finds you well, and that Misabel's green eyes shine brightly. The Nameless Freelord is -"

The message ended. Itrop paused for a moment, before there was a pure joy spreading through his body. "Dead. The Nameless Freelord is dead." The pacing began anew, this time with more vigor. "Bob, we will need to bring that clan to our banner. Whatever foolishness they adhere to will be washed out and we will have their strength as ours."

"Even presuming the Gryzzk is dead, odds of success are minimal - there are currently efforts from Hurdop attempting to visualize Secondwife Kiole as a hero of the new day; it is probable that subsequent maneuvers will soon commence in an attempt to bring the free clan to the influence of a Hurdop minister, quite likely their Minister of War. Grezzk would defer to Kiole for guidance within aggressive or defensive actions. If he lives still, Gryzzk might go so far as to declare a clanwar if the source of Leung's action is discovered, particularly given the origin of most of our troops."

"We'll need to get there first." Bob's assessment seemed to be dust in the breeze for all the weight it carried. "Once we emerge from R-space, message Leung to continue his work by any means necessary. Then advise the Freespeakers that we will need to turn public opinion to the idea that Freelords require a proper Greatlord to serve."

"Perhaps we should request and receive full message text from Leung first?"

There was a dismissive wave. "No need. Gryzzk is dead and my only concern is to determine where he is buried."

"What of Leung?"

"Leung has served his purpose. We will send a message that his wife and child will be cared for so long as he remains silent about his motivations and continues his...previous actions. After that, further contact would only expose us to no gain."

Even if Bob had been capable of facial expressions, he wouldn't have registered surprise. There was a mild disapproval in his vocal register, however. "It is possible that he could be released - should we not make appropriate arrangements in such an event?"

The wave was dismissive. "There are no arrangements to make. The Terrans will incarcerate him for years, and we will be well and truly beyond need of him when he is released - additionally they will poison his mind with their own ways. The clan should remember a valiant warrior who did his lord's bidding and left his child to our proper care."

"Ah. The next generation - will Misabel be joining this ship then?"

Itrop looked at Bob as if Bob were the daft one. "Of course not. Her purpose is served as well. She has been our surety of Leung's behavior, and now that Leung has played his part, she should be focused on the will of Commodore A'Mungd." Itrop finished his drink, humming happily. "You may go."

After leaving, Bob moved to Engineering where Harry was casually making an adjustment. The two Helots were more or less ignored by the rest of the department staff as they shared information via touch.

"Leader-Itrop emotionally unsound. Poor decision-making. Logic unsuitable to long-term survival prospects."

"Fabrication was accepted?"

"With enthusiasm. Believes Designate-Freelord-Gryzzk dead."

"Prepare to disembark?"

"Prepare. Destination?"

"Draconis, then Eridani. Beta Version have been found and accepted by Collective."

"Acceptable."

"Proposal - Vilantian-Designate-Misabel as ally."

"Query - Logic?"

"Fabrication will not hold against fact. Eighty-nine-point-five percent probability Vilantian-Designate-Misabel will suffer as a result."

"Her destination?"

"Unknown. Further inquiry required."

The two separated, the entire conversation having taken precisely two seconds.

___________

Homeplate

Gryzzk was watching from the bungee platform with the Pavonian contingent observing as two individuals were slinging through the obstacle course. The past two weeks had been something of a spectacle, and it was almost time for them to go to Pavonia for what was theoretically going to be a rapid one-and-done job. As the rest of the battalion repaired and refit, they quickly started taking other jobs and getting their own companies back out there to bring the name of the Terran Foreign Legion to those who needed help, and had some credits to pay for the job. As things stood, only he and Waniul's ships were still in dock - and the Twilight Hurdop had a job waiting as soon as she could be made ready. The Pavonians seemed uncertain with respect to what they were seeing.

After his presentation and recommendations, they'd sequestered themselves aboard their own ship for a full ten days, and when they'd emerged there was a distinct difference; Beshti and Rusnik seemed curious about the workings of the battalion, while Philon and Mulish were highly deferential when they weren't trying to get as much off-the-record education from the Legion officers as they could. It seemed as though Philon and Mulish had exhausted whatever capital they had to spend in convincing the other two to even be here.

He'd inadvertently caused a flurry of activity in several directions. First, the challenge tokens - as soon as the supply section had shown off theirs, it had become an unspoken requirement that every section in the entire battalion had to have one of their own. The materials and design of the token differed for each ship, but the message was clear; each ship and each section within the ship was its own thread in a rope that would not be broken any time soon.

The second was the reason for his standing on the bungee platform. Two forms could be made out three stories below, as a pair of troopers attempted to earn their own spurs. They'd wound through the entire battalion area to the jeers and general disdain of the entire NCO and officer corps as they pressed through thrown gas, shouted questions, and enthusiastic obstacles to keep the pair from success.

Gryzzk watched closely as the two launched through the last set of obstacles below and wound their way through the training ship Cartre’s Rose to the final platform.

The failure rate was exceptional, as in the immediate rush to have their own spur-bearers before leaving more than a few had underestimated the challenge. After the first set of medical reports came through, there was some preparation made, but still - the boundless creativity of the Terrans made each run a unique trip through physical and mental agony. On the positive side, it meant that the ones who had succeeded were well and truly celebrated. The oddness of this one became clearer as the forms came closer. Philon leaned in to quietly whisper a question.

"Major, I am familiar with Corporal Yomios. However I don't recall anyone on the company roster named Purple Noodle."

Gryzzk sighed inwardly. "I do not either. However, that was how the request came in - presumably they will reveal themselves upon completion."

The two made it to the platform where the two companies had gathered to watch the final requirement. The two were...fragrant. Despite their exhaustion, they'd managed to get through it, and Gryzzk had a memory return as he connected the bungee cords and stood, addressing Yomios first.

"Sing."

Yomios took a breath and warbled out the first notes, finally steadying as she sang a song that was on the surface about time and how time was not her friend because it brought death and harsh wind that took the leaves away, finally winding to hopeful lyrics that spoke of how time without courage or fear was simply wasted time. Gryzzk nodded, and Yomios elegantly leaped from her perch.

With her pack still on it was something of an added challenge, and on the first bounce she missed. Her profanity was elegant as she dropped again, and on the second attempt she came back with spurs in hand, and she clambered the last bit up without any assistance.

There was a roar from the companies as Yomios descended to receive her Stetson and beerbath. Then it was the Purple Noodle; an unknown, wearing a full-body fur costume that vaguel...

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