《Peace, War, & Interspecies Relations》 Chapter 1 RNS Defender, Drydock A16, Astarine Outpost, Condrilina System A Joint Task Force was a prestigious posting, desired by almost every serving being in the United Systems Republic (USR) Military, be it Army, Navy, or Expeditionary Corp. A coalition of the most elite from every species that can make the cut, it was the best place to get some intense action in the frontlines and a quick promotion to go with it. Every species, be it peaceworlders, roughworlders, or warworlders, wants at least one representative in a JTF. Ilinara was proud to be the one to finally put the Masitari on the list. Originating from a warworld with 1.93 standard Gs, she had amassiveadvantage over most of the other recruits. She was just below average height at [1.78m], but her warworld evolutionary traits, such as her heighten senses or retractable claws, kept her one step ahead throughout training and selection. Her fur was thick enough to keep her warm at night and short enough to not overheat her in the field. There were few warworlders throughout the 25 JTFs, only because they were so rare to begin with, and she was the only one in JTF-7, the only one onboard theDefender, even. One warworlder amongst a group of roughworlders and peaceworlders. Despite being junior enlisted when she got to the squad, the others looked to her for advice in the field, and she was always eager to help out. Of course she was, joining the USR was all about integration and friendly relations, and joining a JTF meant getting a new family. Of course she would want to help. Besides, her stellar service got her a spot here, and she was eager to prove herself. But now? Now, for the first time in her 11 standard cycles in the Navy, Ilinara wished that her service was just a little less stellar. "Respectfully, sir? What the fuck!?" Rear Admiral Stefnar, a stern, hardened Rivkalak veteran, looked as shaken as she was. "I almost said the same thing to the Fleet Admiral myself, Chief Mitali. Almost." Ilinara took a beat to keep her voice from cracking and stomped on her own tail to keep it from swinging all over the place. "Sir.... they''re Terrans." "I''m well aware." "Terrans, sir!" The admiral slammed a giant scaled claw onto the table. "I''m well aware of what they are, and what they''ve done, Ilinara. I''m well aware of the history. But orders are orders, and Secretary General Alvarez has been pushing for this since she got elected and the Admiralty has conceded. You, as our only shipboard warworlder, will be expected to help them acclimate to our ship." At her look of distress, he chittered, his people''s version of a sigh. "I''m sorry, kiddo. I really am, but this is happening. Nothing you and I can do about it." She whined, a low, lilting sound in the back of her throat, to vent her frustrations. "I understand, sir. Thanks for notifying me beforehand." With that, and a smart salute, she left for her quarters. Fucking- why!? And why them!? Sure, she was from a warworld, but how did they expect her to handle not just one, but sixdeathworlders?? This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
For the longest time, everyone thought that warworlders were the apex of the galaxy''s evolution, as far as spacefaring species were concerned at least. Surely they couldn''t get any more dangerous than a species that evolved in environments so extreme most beings would struggle to even spend a day in? Surely there was nowhere to go from there, not without driving themselves to extinction? Sure, there were deathworlds, but they were tucked away neatly in the outer arms of the galaxy, never to create sapience because they were all so fucking violent and hostile. Not just the planets, but the fauna too. They''d kill each other before ever discovering what a tool was. That was the theory, and a universally accepted one. And then they found Terrans. They called themselves Humans at first. Parliament was understandably shocked. To find sapience on a deathworld was one thing. To find a fully formed and (somewhat) functioning society? Unthinkable. Incredible. Terrifying. There was fierce debates over what to do with the Humans. Some said they should uplift them, bring them to the stars so they could contribute to the USR. Others wanted to leave them be. They''ve never sent one of their own past the moon, and with their destructive nature they''d be extinct long before making it to intersystem travel. The Crevtons attacked Terra before anyone could make a decision. A particularly cruel and powerful species of hive-minded warworlders, their military bared down on the deathworld, gunning for resources and slave labor. After all, an unsuspecting species numbering at over 8 billion? Perfect for ''recruitment drives''. The Terrans drove them back. Every. Single. Ship. They decimated a Crevton fleet and chased down the rest, destroying one shuttle after another with an efficiency that spoke of a species honed not just by hostile environments, but by warfare. Their weaponry, while primitive in design, were all devastatingly destructive in nature, to the point where USR Regulators banned them from ever leaving the Sol System. Parliament was relieved that they wouldn''t have to interfere, and maybe this would get the Crevtons to see sense, to see that conquest wasn''t the way forward, and to join the USR and adopt its ideals. 16 cycles after the failed invasion, the Humans nuked Crevto Prime. Testimony from the Terran ambassador later on said that they never meant to burn the planet''s crust. They were just trying to deter further invasions by crippling the Crevton military power. One nuke sent to their largest base, that was all. They never thought that uranium would ignite the atmosphere in such a way. Never thought that the ''detergence package'' they sent down would be an extinction-level event for the Crevton people. The galaxy watched in horror as Crevto Prime, once a lush but dangerous warworld, died a slow, agonizing death. A quarantine was ordered. It was swiftly ignored. A particularly rowdy and stupid group of academy pledges from Nimlak-7 were challenged into making contact with a Human scouting ship surveying the outer edges of the Nimla System at the time. They all died, every single one of them. That part wasn''t shocking. It washowthey died that was the curious part. According to autopsy and later testimony from the deathworlders themselves, the pledges died from severe ethanol poisoning, drinking a Human beverage called a ''beer''. And that was how Humans, later calling themselves ''Terrans'', became aware of the USR. No big discovery, no First Contact Protocol, no great war. Nope, a bunch of stupid pledges led them straight to the rest of the galaxy. It took a few cycles of back and forth probing, but they eventually extended a hand in peace, and Parliament accepted. Terra became the newest planet in the USR, and Terrans became the first, and so far only, sapient deathworld species in the galaxy.
Ilinara grumbled as she read the debrief. Six Terrans, all military, all handpicked from elite units. Wait,eliteunits? Theirinfantrywere elite by intergalactic standards! What the fuck wereelite Terranssupposed to be like? Regardless, it was complete Kravak shit is what it was. Lieutenant Commander Thuriam was next in line for command, not some random Terran, no matter how elite. Oh, she was not looking forward to breakingthatnews. Her commlink chimes. Unknown code. She denied the call. Another call. Same code. Ilinara growled and answered. "Listen, whatever scam you fucks are trying to pull, I''m not interested in playing along. Got it?" A beat of silence on the other side, then a smooth, rough chuckled sounded in her ear, a sound that made her tensed up instinctively, her senses screaming ''danger'' at her. "Now, is that any way to start a conversation with your new CO, Chief Mitali?" Chapter 2 Ilinara nearly dropped her datapad. Why the fuck was her new CO calling her personal code? How the fuck did he even know her personal code in the first place? She ran a crosscheck just to verify that the code was actually his (it was), then scrambled to check the personnel files. "Commander.... Grayson, right? Well, you''ll excuse my words, sir, I assumed you were a scammer." And also because no sensible commander would ever call their subordinates on personal comms, but she wasn''t about to say that to the most dangerous species in the galaxy. She was stressed, not suicidal, thank you very much. His chuckle was sending shivers through her spine and down to her claws. It was both terrifying and fascinating to hear such a distinctly Terran sound. "Well, at least you had the foresight to check my comm code before revealing my name. Smart move." How the fuck did he know that? "Sir-" "I know what I know. How I know is of no consequence as long as it''s legal. Agreed?" Ilinara was, for the fourth time in so many standard hours, shocked. No one''s been that bold and brash with her since her parents. "Uh- agree to disagree, sir?" she borrowed the Terran phrase. She hated how uncertain she sounded immediately. Apparently, as with everything else about this conversation, Commander Grayson found it amusing. "I like you already. Look, Chief, I''m calling to inform you that me and my squad will be at the outpost at 2350 standard, and I need to make sure the accommodation changes we required have been seen to." Of course they''ve been seen to. What did he think they were, amateurs? "Of course, sir. All requested modifications and additions have been implemented to specification." "Good. I''ll be in touch, Chief." He cut the call before she could reply. Ilinara''s mind wandered back to the list they''d been provided as her legs walked. Extensive list of shit. Expensive too. Reinforcing the personal quarters and specialized training facility was perfectly reasonable, those fuckers evolved on a planet with 2.54 standard Gs and would crack the deck just by falling on it, but then the crew had been asked to install a high-G chamber and a reinforced space for ''recreational activities''. She''d always thought that it was for new warworlder transfers like that group of Xar''eiks from Sixteen or something. Oh well, what''s done was done and it was no longer her problem, at least until they were onboard. Her problem was breaking the news to Commander Thuriam. Poor woman has had to prove herself her entire career. Hearing that her command''s been given to a deathworlder might break her.
JTF Quarters, RNS Defender Maskiva Thuriam was having a great day, her twin tails restless in excitement as she watched the latest round of Parliament debates on the common holoscreen. With Commander K''loyk retiring, she was expecting a promotion any day now. After so long of fighting Rimlaka and overall peaceworlder stereotypes every step of the way, swallowing every condescending, sexist, and downright xenophobic remark from some of her ''superiors'' before and after every promotion, she was finally getting a JTF command. Her service and performance was finally being recognized. She perked up as Ilinara walked in, datapad in hand. "How''d it go with the admiral, Chief?" Ilinara pointedly avoided looking at her, still gripping the datapad. Maskiva''s tails went still in concern. "Ili? What''s wrong?" Her senior enlisted thrusted the datapad in her direction, her voice in a whisper. "I''m so sorry, sir." She left for her quarters right as Maskiva got a firm hold on the datapad. The Rimlaka commander watched her go. What the hell happened? She looked down, noting the seal from both Fleet Admiral Evi''ran''nel (Republic Navy Commander) and Vice Admiral Kelly Grayson (Joint Operations Commander), and started reading. Her hearts stuttered. All four of her eyes narrowed into slits. No. No no no no no. They couldn''t. They wouldn''t. They did. She threw the datapad into the nearest wall, not seeing and not caring about the stares from the beings around her as her vision is blurred by thick, sticky tears. Those fuckers. Giving her well-deserved command to a Terran!? She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to crash a shuttle into the Admiralty Tower and strangle all those condescending fucks with her bare hands, warworlders and all. Instead, she bolted into her quarters and cried until her skin dried out.
Docking Collar A113, Astarine Outpost "So, this is it, huh? Look at the size of it!" Eric smiled, amused by his demolitionist''s bright-eyed stare as his squad stepped into the station proper. "Never been to an outpost, Mendoza?" Owen turned to his commander, shaking his head excitedly. "Not an alien one, sir. Never been on an alien ship, either. Earthbound stations for me, sir." Curtis snuck up behind him and ruffled his hair. "Well, the Defender''s a capital cruiser, so you''ll be popping your cherry with the best of the best, mate." "Easy on the teasing, Tran. The kid might come in his pants at this rate. Don''t want that, do we?" Owen flushed and flipped Adira off as everyone else laughed. The sniper sent him a bird in kind. "Curtis is right, though. The Defender is one of the best and largest ships in service." Ralph said from Adira''s left. "Everything from horsepower to firepower to amenities is top tier." Eric nodded. "That''s good. Maybe we''ll finally be able to get drinks with actual kick." Adira turned to him. "So, where to now, sir? Or are we sleeping in the lobby?" Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Eric considered the time and the logistics. "It''s almost midnight standard time. We can go to the Defender, wake Chiara up to let us in, and have a quiet entrance. Or, we can rent out a living unit stationside, then shipboard in the morning. Group decision." Curtis was quick on the take. "First one risks the admiral waking up to five strangers onboard, but second one is gonna cost at least a grand a night. This is Astarine, not Sc''ostret. Ain''t gonna be cheap." A round of nods. They have a chunk of credits from Vice Admiral Grayson - a decent amount to make sure they could afford any small comforts they might need onboard. They all agreed that it should be saved for emergencies.... and the occasional luxury, like the disassembled sofa in boxes on the ground next to them. They bought that on sale before leaving Terra. Long live the great IKEA. "Voting time. All for boarding immediately?" Four hands raised. Adira scowled playfully. "Tsk. Typical men, no appreciation for the finer comforts of life." Everyone firmly gave her the finger as they made their way to Drydock A16.
Admiral''s Quarters, RNS Defender Stefnar woke up to the incessant beeping of his datapad at 0530. Weird, he could''ve sworn the alarm was set for 0645 as usual. Chittering annoyedly, he checked it, fully prepared to send a Requisition Form for a replacement pad. This was ridiculous. His annoyance vaporized almost immediately. 44 messages from night shift, all marked in yellow. At least it wasn''t amber or, Rivan forbid, red. And then he read said messages, and thought that maybe they should''ve marked them amber anyway. The Terrans were shipboard. No one knew how, just that they slept in the cargo bay and were now apparently waiting for him to allow them onboard the rest of the ship. Well, at least they had enough respect for chain of command to wait before going deeper into his ship. He sent a reply to the latest message, telling his second officer to escort all five Terrans to the briefing room and that he''d meet them there. Wait, five? He was told there''d be six. Maybe the last one got dropped from deployment for whatever reason. Whatever the case, he had five deathworlders, elite ones at that, apparently stringing up [hammocks] and temporary sleeping units in his cargo bay, and that was something he, being the good, responsible admiral he was, had to deal with immediately. Stefnar entered the briefing room and his audio receptors almost bled from the sheer volume of the "Admiral on deck!" bellowed by one of the Terrans. All five snapped into sharp salutes, which he returned once his receptors stopped ringing and he was reoriented. "As you were. How the [hell] did you five manage to sneak aboard a Republic warship?" They all turned to him, and Stefnar found himself nervous and slightly shaking under the weight of ten forward-facing eyes. "We used the starboard-aft entrance, sir. No one was guarding the hatch." The admiral made a note to investigate that particular lapse in security, then moved on. "Alright, from what I can understand, you five are supposed to be the newest compliment to my JTF? Now, my files don''t have your pictures. I was told it''s for ''security reasons''. Which one of you is Commander Eric Grayson?" The tall Terran male with the yellowish head fur raised a hand. "That''s me, sir." "So you''re my new JTF Commander." Yeah, Stefnar could see the familial resemblance. Similar coloration, same eyes, and the way they carried themselves, even while seated, was nearly identical. "I understand that you came from a highly elite unit back on Terra?" "We''re all elites, sir." Said with a straight face. No fluff, almost no ego, just facts. "But yes, sir, I was with Delta Force. So was Petty Officer Andrews, sir." Stefnar glanced back through the list. "Petty Officer First Class Ralph Andrews? Combat medic?" Another hand raised, this one from a Terran with dark coloration and a complete lack of head fur, slightly thinner than Grayson. Well, not really. He still had hard, gravity-condensed musculature like the rest of his species, but he was... to borrow a Terran term, [lanky] compared to his commander. "That would be me, sir." "I''m not familiar with the term. Can you explain what a combat medic does, Petty Officer?" He watched Andrews tilt his head, visibly confused for a moment before seemingly understanding something. Was his translator faulty? "Ah, right. You don''t have that concept. Well, sir, you know how us Terrans are sturdier than the galactic standard? Well, we could survive things that would instantly kill most other species, so combat medics, such as myself, are there to make sure our troops stay alive until we can end the fight and get them proper medical attention. I''m also a certified Xenobiologist, so my skills can be applied to most of the crew should the situation calls for it." Stefnar tried to wrap his head around such a Terran concept. When someone is wounded in combat, the most logical thing would be to keep on fighting and hoping they were still alive to be treated when it was over. "So you''re a doctor who keeps wounded soldiers alive during combat? You''re not a fighter yourself?" The man bared his teeth, and Stefnar felt fear spike through his hearts. Had he offended him somehow? No, wait. Terrans bared their teeth as a sign of friendliness, or amusement, not as a threat. "I''m still a combatant, sir. I can still fight and shoot as well as the rest of them, it''s just not my primary objective." Right, Terran. Never bound to single functions, the damnable lot of them. He checked the list again. "Alright, I''m assuming that you," he waved a claw at the only female amongst them, "are Lieutenant Adira..... how do I pronounce your familial name, Lieutenant?" "al-Allee, sir." She even made sure to say it slowly and clearly for his benefit. Stefnar noted the pronunciation. "It says here that you''re a sniper. Good, we''ve been needing a replacement sniper. Petty Officer Second Class Owen Mendoza?" The short, stocky Terran with the interesting head fur pattern raised his hand. "You''re a demolitionist, correct?" "Technically, I''m a combat engineer, sir, but it translates to demolitionist in the USR naval rates." "Alright, simple enough. Just make sure you don''t blow up my ship. And lastly, Chief Petty Officer Curtis Tran. I''m assuming that''s you?" he gestured to the final Terran male, who nodded. "Aye, sir. Reporting for duty." "You''re the heavy gunner?" "Yes, sir." "Alright, so that''s all of you accounted for. Now, the first important question." He looked around the table, satisfied to see that the Terran reputation of being stalwart professionals when necessary was true. "Have any of you served on a USR ship before?" Headshakes all around. Of course. They were new, barely 10 cycles since proper First Contact. Those academy pledges have been memorialized. "Alright. Any of you served on a spaceship of any kind?" Grayson spoke first. "I did, sir. TFS Olympia." Then Andrews. "TFS March Madness, sir." Then Tran. "TFS YOLO, sir." A capital cruiser, a battleship, and an expeditionary vessel. All Terran Federation ships. The other two didn''t speak up, so Stefnar assumed neither of them had any experience shipboard. "All five of you will have to be oriented and caught up on protocol before our next deployment, but other than that all you need to do is make sure you are familiar with our equipment and friendly with your new teammates. Dismissed." He suddenly remembered something as they stood up. "Wait." They waited. "What happened to the last one? I was told there''d be six of you." One of the new technicians, a particularly well-groomed Leprecian, opened the door and Stefnar tensed, one claw twitching next to his blaster. There was no way they had the clearance to unlock that door without a bridge or security officer. Intruder? "At ease, Ensign Ferrari." Stefnar turned his eyes towards his new JTF Commander, who''d just used the completely wrong rank and name. Embarrassing, honestly. Not a good way to start his comma- The technician responded, moving into the position of At Ease. Grayson turned to him, gesturing to the mysterious technician who was... discarding her fur!?. "Sir, meet Ensign Chiara Ferrari, our primary scout and intelligence officer." "What the fuck is this?" Grayson came back to attention as the technician revealed themselves as a Terran female, shedding a complex and realistic suit of fur. "We apologize for the deception, sir, but we had to make sure there was no negative sentiment from the crew that could pose a threat to our safety and wellbeing." Stefnar was supposed to be angry. He had every right to be, and from what little he could read of their body languages they expected him to be pissed. Honestly, though? Once the shock wore off, he was just impressed that a Terran managed to pass as Lepresian for so long. She''d been here for several subcycles! He did still have to stick to his principles. "I won''t report this deception, not this time, but you will never do something like this without my explicit permission, is that understood?" Another round of affirmatives and he sent them on their way, ordering them to familiarize themselves with their new teammates. He stumbled his way back to bed and collapsed. Fucking Terrans. Chapter 3 Outside JTF Quarters, RNS Defender "Any changes since your last report, Chiara?" Eric asked as he strolled down the plain gray corridor, matching steps with the freakishly tall Italian spy. "Nothing much, sir. The XO had a severely negative response after learning of your assignment here. She''s been fighting to get her own command for nearly a decade now." Chiara noticed the look on her friend''s face. "You''ll be fine. She might be angry and hurt, but she''s a stalwart professional." Eric scoffed. "Her dream command was just ripped out from under her by an admiral''s son. Excuse me if I''m skeptical of how professional she''d be." Chiara''s stride stuttered for a split-second. "Fair point, but it is what it is now. The Federation gambled our entire military reputation on this, so we have to make it work." Eric snapped his head forward as they stopped in front of the bulkhead separating JTF quarters from the rest of the ship. "I''m well aware what the Federation is risking, Ensign. I''m well aware." With that, he entered his new clearance code. And got a stun bolt to the face.
"Hey Asiila, get up!" Kremric got a metal tube to the face for that. "It''s 0540. Fuck off." "We got intruders onboard." That got the Nagai up and uncoiled immediately. "What!?" Kremric nodded. "Yep. Just found out from the night shift commander. Five Terrans are onboard." Asiila slithered out of her perch in a hurry. "We need to get to the armory before them! Get your gear and meet me-" The main bulkhead keypad started chiming and both soldiers froze for a second before retrieving their weapons and taking their positions behind the lounging seats. "Switch to stun," Asiila hissed. "We take them alive for interrogation." Kremric just nodded silently and aimed his blaster at the door. Not a moment too soon as well, with the door opening almost immediately afterwards. Five Terrans, spread out. They weren''t even in the proper breaching formation, the amateurs. Asiila got her shot off first, those ambush predator instincts kicking in and nailing what he assumed was the leader right in the head. Kremric didn''t get a chance to shoot. The Terran leader stumbled to one side as the rest pulled their weapons on them. Kinetics. Shit. Those things would rip right through the seats. The Terran leader, who shouldn''t have even been conscious at that point, approached their position, stumbling slightly as the others spread out to control the room. "Drop them, guys. This is either a misunderstanding or you''re traitors. In either case, you need to drop your weapons before my people turn you both into minced meat." Asiila coiled herself, ready to spring out. She gestured for Kremric to distract them, and he did so by lifting his blaster up and out of cover. "Alright, alright. Don''t shoot, I''m coming out." He tossed it in the opposite direction as where Asiila was before stepping out the same way, making sure the attention was all on him. The Terran opened his mouth to speak, probably to make demands. Before he could, his Nagai teammate launched out of cover, fangs out, aiming straight for the neck. Faster than Kremric could react, the Terran turned on his feet, pulling his neck away and bringing an arm up, letting Asiila bite down on his forearm. Three of the others rushed to rescue their leader while the other two surrounded him, tackling him to the ground. Kremric felt something in his secondary cuticle strain under the weight of Terran muscles. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL DOING!? IT''S NOT EVEN 0600 YET, FOR FUCK''S SAKE." Kremric turned around slowly, singular eye widening in horror at the sight of Commander Thuriam, unarmed and unarmored, glaring at them in her sleepwear. "Sir, we''ve been boarded. Run!" The Terran, somehow not experiencing complete organ failure, raised his eye fur. "Sir? You''re the commander?" The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. "You''re Eric Grayson, I''m guessing?" "I am." Maskiva let out a frustrated chitter. Kremric was confused. What the fuck was going on? "Asiila, you''re trying to poison our new CO. Release his arm, please." Asiila mumbled a protest, still trying to rip his flesh out to no effect. Maskiva glared at her. "Petty Officer Vassuki, that''s an order. Let him go, now." Asiila hesitated visibly before retracting her fangs, letting herself drop from the man''s arm. There was barely a scratch on him, just pale red bitemarks. Every xeno stared at the dark crimson blood pooling up around the open wound, fascinated. It was one thing knowing that Terrans could be harmed, nearly a billion died in the Crevton Invasion after all, it was another thing entirely to see it up close. It was like seeing a deity bleed. It made them..... mortal. The man, Eric Grayson apparently, looked at his wound with mild interest, eye fur raised and eyes slightly narrowed, an expression completely unbefitting of a being with Nagai poison flowing through their veins. "Nagai are poisonous, right?" Asiila, still weary, slithered to a safer distance. "Yes, we secrete poison from our fangs when we want to." The darker Terran in the back started pulling something out of his pack and placing it on the table. Kremric recognized it as disinfectant, but the smell was more like engine cleaner. "You know the chemical composition of that poison, by any chance?" He found himself speaking up, drawing attention to himself against his better instincts. "Diacetylmorphine, I think you Terrans call it." All Terran eyes snapped his way. There was a pause. ... "Nagai poison is fucking heroin!?"
Eric walked to the nearest chair and sat down, letting Ralph disinfect his arm as his eyes started to glaze over. "Narcan?" the medic offered. "Nah, I''ll ride it out. Not my first time." Chiara looked at him, eyebrow raised. Eric returned the look with equal sass. "I went to UF. This is nowhere close to my first ride." Adira butted in, still straddling the Chitan''s lower cuticle - any other situation and Eric would''ve thought he''d walked in on something. "I would''ve thought the great Eric Grayson was an academy brat." Ralph chuckled. "This one flunked out of West Point three weeks in. His mom went ballistic. Cut off his college fund and everything." Eric sighed. "Lucky for me the football scouts at UF still needed a wide receiver. ROTC there, then OCS." Chiara draped herself over the back of the nearby couch. "Why''d you get kicked out?" The Chitan, who he hadn''t gotten the name of, spoke up. "Can someone please inform me as to what is going on, exactly?" Eric sighed, leaning his head against the backrest as his eyes found the Rimlaka woman that would be his XO for the foreseeable future. "Who have you told? I know Chief Mitali knew, and you know, but who else?" ..... There was a point, being a Terran in the USR, when you knew whether someone not making eye contact was them hiding something from you or simply being nervous around Terrans. Eric got to that point a long time ago. This was the former. "Commander Thuriam, who else knew about us before we boarded?" He was well aware of his tone shifting, aware of the way he was sitting upright, the way adrenaline and indignant annoyance were overriding the heroin in his system. He didn''t notice the way Thuriam was backing away, tails coiled, eyes dilated, breathing heavy. "Answer the question, Lieutenant Commander." He got up and took a step forward. She bolted for the bulkhead and out the room. Everyone paused for a moment, just to comprehend what happened. Chiara, being the intel officer she was, was the first to react. "Someone go get Chief Mitali. Wake the rest of the team up too, save us all having to repeat ourselves."
"So they''re our new squadmates?" "Yes." "And that" pointing at Eric. "is our new CO?" Ilinara felt a subvocal whine escape her throat at that. "Yes, he is." Introductions have already been made through the entire JTF by the time someone pinged her door, it seemed, which saved her from having to do it herself. "Why didn''t you tell us, Chief?" The whine was vocal this time. "I thought Commander Thuriam would''ve told you all herself once she calmed down. I had paperwork to submit and forgot." She looked around. "Where is she, by the way?"
Maintenance Closet, Secondary FTL Drive Room She was fine. She was fine. Sure, they were pissed, and rightfully so, but the Terrans were her teammates. Most of them were her subordinates. They wouldn''t hurt her. Then why the fuck was she hiding in a closet with her tails wrapped around herself? Oh, who was she fucking fooling? The moment a Terran so much as looked at her with anything resembling hostile intent, she froze. The moment her new CO, who she logically should be kissing up to for any chance of a promotion at this point, took a step in her direction, her instincts took over and she ran from the room. "Like the weak, soft piece of peaceworlder trash you are." "No. Stop. Stop it, Maskiva. You earned this post. You''re a JTF operator. You''re a commander." "Lieutenant Commander." that little voice in the left side of her brain snided. "You really think you can take a JTF command from a deathworlder?" She ignored it like always. "You in there, sir?" Maskiva let out an embarrassing squeak as something banged on the door. "Wh-who is it?" "Lieutenant al-Allee, sir." She didn''t recognize the name. "You''re one of the Terrans?" "I am, sir. Do you need assistance?" For a species of supposed killing machines, the voice on the other side of that door was deceptively soft. She gurgled her throat clear and wiped the tears back onto her dried out face. "No. Th-thank you, Lieutenant. I''ll be out in just a moment." "Alright, sir. Commander Grayson wants to see you and Chief Mitali in his office first thing, I''ll tell him you''re on your way." Maskiva''s hand jerked mid tailstroke. Oh fuck. Peace, War, & Interspecies Relations - Chapter 4 JTF Commander''s Office, RNS Defender Ilinara stood at attention outside the door, listening as Kremric and Asiila answered some questions from their new CO. Standard stuff, some questions about the environment and culture around the task force, but nothing about them shooting him in the face. Strange. She turned to look as Maskiva came to a stop next to her. The Rimlaka officer was also in full dress, sharp gray uniform with her rank on full display. It hurt Ilinara to think that this could be the last time she saw her friend with those epaulets on her shoulders. Their heads snapped forward, at attention, as the door opened. They avoided eye contact as they left. Shit. This was bad. "Thuriam, Mitali. Get in here." Even having never interacted with a Terran before this whole thing, Ilinara knew anger when she heard it. She gripped Maskiva''s paw as the officer went in first. "Reporting, sir." She reached for a chair. "Did I tell you to sit?" Maskiva froze, mid-reach, and Ilinara stared at their commander in shock before they both snapped back into attention. Oh fuck. He was pissed. They watched as Grayson opened up a set of files, recognizing them as their own service records. "Lieutenant Commander Maskiva Thuriam. Rimlaka, born on Rimlak IV. Thirty cycles of age. Fourteen cycles of service. First peaceworlder to join a JTF, second to participate in three separate combat theatres. One of the best, if not the best, strategic minds your quadrant has ever produced. Six points off a perfect aptitude score." He looked up and stared the Rimlaka in the eyes, making her squirm. "Anything to say for yourself, Lieutenant Commander?" Ilinara didn''t dare breathe, glancing at her XO and friend with concern. The next thing that came out of Maskiva''s mouth was both the most and least expected thing she could''ve thought of. "Sir, the incident was my fault, I take full responsibility. Vassuki and Bharno were not at fault and should not be punished, sir." Grayson raised his eye fur - called an eyebrow, as Ilinara later learned - and released a short hum. "I agree. It was your fault." He lifted a datapad up for them to see. "This data packet will be sent to Joint Command once I''m done with the two of you. Inside, there are commendations and formal award recommendations for Petty Officers Bharno and Vassuki. They reacted valiantly and correctly with the information available to them at the time, and their bravery will be recognized. You have thirty seconds" a timer popped up on the desk, "exactly thirty seconds, to tell me why the paperwork detailing your demotion and reassignment to Malvor shouldn''t be included." Ilinara could see the exact moment Maskiva''s hearts stopped. She was stuttering, trying to hide her heavy breathing, and panicking. A demotion would cripple any career, but with the way Maskiva''s been treated in service it would be the absolute end for her. The reassignment to Malvor - the ass end of the middle of nowhere - would only ensure it. She found herself speaking up. "Sir, she-" His head snapped to her with incredible speed. "Was I talking to you, Chief Mitali?" It should be said that Ilinara had never been scared of officers below vice admiral, not even as a junior trooper. She was terrified now, stared down by sharp eyes that contained so much restrained anger by a creature that could crush her in mere minutes. "No, sir." "Stay there, I''ll get to you in a moment. Twenty six seconds, Thuriam. Why should I trust you to be my XO? Why should I trust you with my task force when you couldn''t even relay basic information properly?" Ilinara watched, heartbroken, as her XO and friend stuttered and try to find any reason to save her career and coming up with nothing. "Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two,-" "You shouldn''t, sir!" He paused. Looked at her like a predator checking out his next target. "Elaborate." Maskiva sniffled and gurgled her throat. "You''re right, sir. I was unable to control my emotions after receiving the news, and in so doing failed to deliver important information to the rest of my team, which led to a situation that put both you and the troopers I''m responsible for at risk." She looked at him with sticky eyes. "But I''m begging you, sir. Please, give me another chance. Just one chance, sir. I can prove myself trustworthy. Please, sir, this is all I have." A tense moment of silence. "You''re suspended from combat and combat-adjacent details until further notice, effective immediately....... Lieutenant Commander." Maskiva could''ve collapsed right then and there. She didn''t, telling herself to keep her legs under her until she was dismissed and out of sight. "Understood, sir. Thank you." "Didn''t do it for you, Thuriam. There will be further instructions. Wait outside." She snapped into a salute and left, smiling ever-so-slightly. Her career wasn''t over yet. Ilinara couldn''t help the little happy hum that came out of her at seeing Maskiva be spared. The raised eyebrow from Grayson told her that her reaction didn''t go unnoticed. "As for you, Chief Mitali, you''re the current Senior Enlisted Advisor of this task force, correct?" Where was this going? "Yes, sir. That is correct." "What are your primary duties, Chief?" "Sir, my primary duties as the Joint Task Force Senior Enlisted Advisor is to ensure that this task force is prepared to accomplish its mission, ensure the proper and efficient functioning of all troopers under my supervision, account for all troopers, equipment, and supplies, ensure all equipment is properly maintained, ensure that an acceptable level of health, discipline, and morale is maintained, and ensure that my commander is properly integrated into the task force command structure." "And do you feel like you''ve accomplished all of these duties?" Oh, that''s where this was going. "No, sir." He noted something down on his datapad. "Well, as you know, you currently share a rank with Chief Curtis Tran, and SEA for a JTF can be any rank from Chief to Master Chief. Now, admittedly, if we go by seniority or combat experience you''d lose out on this promotion anyway, but your failure to maintain a fully informed and prepared task force ensured it. You are no longer my SEA. Curtis Tran will be promoted to Senior Chief Petty Officer within the next few hours, report to him for your new duties. Understood?" Ilinara scrunched up her face in confusion but only responded with a quick "Yes, sir." He went easy on her. Why? "Dismissed, Chief. Call my XO back in here on your way out." Strangely, she couldn''t find it in herself to care for the reason.
SITUATION REPORT (SITREP) Security Classification: Classified - Level 5 Precedence: ? O (Priority) | ? P (Immediate) | ? R (Routine) Date Time Group (HHMMDD MON YYYY): 061827 JUN 2065 From: Ferrari, Chiara E. Ensign - USR Navy Intelligence Officer - JTF-7 SITREP Number: JTF7-SR-2551 To: Grayson, Kelly M. Vice Admiral - USR Navy Commanding Admiral - JOCOM Final: ? (check if final) Phase (select one): ? Stable | ? Uncertain | ? Alert | ? Distress 1. SITUATION: A. Description of Incident and Location: First contact and integration into JTF-7 command structure - RNS Defender B. Amplified Description: Five members assigned by Terran Federation Joint Military Command (see FN-107) made contact with commanding officers and non-enlisted members of Joint Task Force-7 at approx. 0545 hours. First contact included minor skirmish due to failure of communication within the existing command structure. Skirmish and communication failure have been resolved. C. Survival and Injuries: Casualties: N/A Major injuries: N/A Minor injuries: CDM. Grayson (laceration and puncture to arm) D. Method of Reporting Transmission: ? Public Comm | ? Broadcast Comm | ? Secured Comm E. Location of Reporting Station: Operational Intelligence Center, RNS Defender 2. ACTION TAKEN: A. Local Time: 0545 | Action Taken: Engaged in firefight against PO2. Bharno and PO1. Vassuki. First shot was fired by PO1. Vassuki. B. Local Time: 0550 | Action Taken: Established new command staff and updated chain of command. Briefed all personnel on changes to command staff. C. Local Time: 0610 | Action Taken: Briefed JTFX and SEA on new command structure. Promoted SCPO. Tran to SEA. 3. ADDENDUM:
Maskiva had never felt so small, so vulnerable, so positively terrified before. She was walking next to a deathworlder. Down a long hallway. Alone. Within reach. Her survival instincts, developed after a lifetime of exposure to warworld predators and a career of combat missions, were screaming at her. She wanted to run, needed to run, or she would die here. The logical side of her brain stamped those feelings out as they came. This was a test, just like everything else. Her commander was trying to see if she could last a simple walk down a hallway with him, in a calm and quiet environment, without freaking out. She could not afford to fail. She would not fail. Eventually, they reached the bulkhead at the end of the path, the one leading to the mess hall. It was time for their first meal of the day. Maskiva was so lost in her own head, it was only after they entered that she realized it wasn''t the officers'' mess. It was the communal one. Eyes were on both of them as they passed, moving to the section in the back unofficially reserved for JTF operators. She could see the others already there, eating and chatting. All twenty of them, including the new ones. The Terrans. The deathworlders. Stop it. Stop it, Maskiva. Get your shit together. They sat down at one of the tables, right in the middle. A Terran female, a lieutenant, sitting across from her acknowledged them with a nod, still chewing.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. As they sat down, someone tapped her shoulder, causing her to jump. Turning around, Maskiva was presented with a tray of her favorite foodstuff, a tall Terran female offering it to her. The fuck? She didn''t even hear her! Maskiva eyed the tray for a moment before taking it, her stomach twisting gratefully. "Thank you, Ensign... Ferrari." "Anytime, sir." She sat down on Eric''s other side, handing him another tray. Eric turned around to Maskiva. "That''s Ensign Chiara Ferrari, intelligence scout. You''re wondering how she knows your favorite food, right?" Maskiva nodded, still in a bit of shock. Eric smiled, remembering at the last moment to not show his teeth. "With her, it''s best not to ask. And over here," pointing at the other officer at the table, "is Lieutenant Adira al-Allee, sniper and third in command. Now, I told you that there will be additional instructions for you, remember?" "Uh, yes sir." She could feel herself getting used to the eyes and the staring, but she was still unnerved. "For the foreseeable future, you''ll be attached to Lieutenant al-Allee. You will bunk with her, eat with her, train with her, and show her the ins and outs of this task force. You two will get to know each other, be comfortable around one another, and both of you," turning to Adira, "will be assessed at a time of my choosing. Understood?" Outwardly, Maskiva let out a passable "Yes, sir" and busied herself with her food. Inwardly, she was panicking again. Working and living around Terrans was already stressing her out, but sleeping next to one!? How the fuck was she meant to do that? It was a minor comfort when Ilinara sat down next to her, giving her a familiar presence to focus on as one of her tails wrapped around her friend''s waist. That comfort cracked somewhat when the other three Terrans sat down across the table. All three were males, all different sizes and different colorations. "Commander Thuriam, meet your new Senior Enlisted Advisor, Senior Chief Curtis Tran. Oh, you''re promoted to Senior by the way, congrats Chief. Next to him there is Ralph Andrews, we served four cycles together in Delta, and the little bright-eyed snot down at the end there is Owen Mendoza, he makes things go boom. Guys, this is Lieutenant Commander Maskiva Thuriam, your XO. You''ll all get to know each other better over time. Alright, dig in, then meet back at quarters to get briefed on plans for the rest of this week." With that, everyone focused on filling themselves up with the necessary nutrients for whatever the day required of them.
"So.... you''re saying we''re free to do as we please, sir?" Eric was quick to catch on to what Owen was trying to pull. "Within reason and legal - I know how you juniors get - but yes. We have two rotations of stationside leave left, no reason I need to keep you all onboard for it. There''s twenty of us, so we go in two groups of ten. One group gets the first, the other gets the second." He looked around at all the faces - not really strangers but not yet familiar. "So, for this leave''s safety brief. Don''t add to the population, don''t subtract from the population. Don''t end up in the hospital, holonews, or jail. If you do end up in jail, establish dominance quickly. If you need to get out of jail, call me." A few quick taps on his datapad. "I''m gonna send randomly generated numbers to all of you. Odd numbers are with me, evens are with Commander Thuriam. Report back here by 0100 or I''m going out there to hunt your asses down. Any objections?" There were some questions, certain things to clarify, but no being in their right mind would object to some time off. Maskiva''s group ended up going first, giving Eric some time to fully settle into life on the Defender as hoots, laughs, and other sounds of excitement filled the area, Adira and Owen amongst them. Eric made sure he had some credits on hand for any bribes he''d have to make to local law enforcement. God knows, with those two out there, he''d need it.
As expected, he got a call long before curfew. The fact that it took Owen until 2330 to call him was impressive. "Commander Grayson speaking." "Uh, sir..." "Where are you, what do you need, and who do you need it for?" "We''re in the station brig in Section C14, need to post bail for three, sir." "You and al-Allee, I''m guessing?" "Yes, sir." "Who''s the third?" There was a long pause. "Owen?" "The XO, sir." Well, wasn''t that surprising. "Be there in twenty. Deny, deflect, and deny until I get there." "Understood." He took his credit chit, hung up the call, and walked out. "Lieutenant Yllaqen, I''m going out. You''re in command." The elfish officer looked up just long enough to acknowledge him. "Yes, sir." Eric checked his account balance as he made his way down to C14. Time to put that Terran reputation to work.
Outside Detainment Station, Section C, Level 14 Eric stared at the three sitting by the roadside. Owen was sporting a black eye and a nasty bruise on his temple. Maskiva''s tails were bleeding from the tip, two of her digits looked broken, and her top was ripped to shit. Adira, meanwhile, was worse than the other two combined. Her hair was tangled and damaged, like it''d been pulled from behind, her right eye was swelling badly, and her body was cut up to hell, long lacerations down the length of her torso. They were bandaged with what looked like strips of her own jacket, soaked through with a mix of different colored blood. She''d need to be disinfected and redressed. Even knowing that a few hours in a Cradle would heal her almost completely, he couldn''t help a hiss of sympathy from coming out. "What the fuck happened?" When he got there, he expected rowdy, roughed up soldiers that did some stupid shit, not.... this. Maskiva looked around, letting Adira lean on her. "We should debrief in private, sir." With that, she helped Adira to her feet. The lieutenant struggled to maintain her balance, a sure sign of blood loss, Owen lifted her up into his arms, ignoring her muttered protests as he carried her back to the ship. Maskiva fell back behind the two, filling him in on what she knew.
INCIDENT REPORT Security Classification: Top Secret - Level 10 Precedence: ? O (Priority) | ? P (Immediate) | ? R (Routine) Date Time Group (HHMMDD MON YYYY): 011828 JUN 2065 From: Grayson, Eric J. Commander - USR Navy Commanding Officer - JTF-7 SITREP Number: JTF7-IR-403 To: Grayson, Kelly M. Vice Admiral - USR Navy Commanding Admiral - JOCOM Final: ? (check if final) Phase (select one): ? Stable | ? Uncertain | ? Alert | ? Distress 1. SITUATION: A. Description of Incident and Location: JTF-7 members assaulted off-duty - Astarine Outpost B. Amplified Description: JTF-7 was granted leave as per stationside resupply schedule. The group for the first rotation included LCDM. Thuriam, LT. al-Allee, and PO2. Mendoza, among others. According to LCDM. Thuriam, LT. al-Allee was separated from the group in a nightclub called Luxmera, leading to LCDM. Thuriam finding LT. al-Allee being physically assaulted by approx. twenty (20) beings of various species, all visibly armed with blades and/or naturally-evolved claws. LCDM. Thuriam interfered to assist LT. al-Allee, and PO2. Mendoza joined in after exiting the club''s lavatory, leading to a physical altercation that resulted in the bodily injury and arrests of all three operators involved. C. Survival and Injuries: Casualties: N/A Major injuries: LT. al-Allee (lacerations on torso, blood loss, swollen right eye) Minor injuries: LCDM. Thuriam (minor bleeding on tails, broken digits on upper left limb), PO2 Mendoza (swollen left eye) D. Method of Reporting Transmission: ? Public Comm | ? Broadcast Comm | ? Secured Comm E. Location of Reporting Station: JTF-7 Commanding Officer''s Office, RNS Defender 2. ACTION TAKEN: A. Local Time: 2350 | Action Taken: Paid bail for the release of LCDM. Thuriam, LT. al-Allee, and PO2. Mendoza. First aid administered to LT. al-Allee. B. Local Time: 0025 | Action Taken: LT. al-Allee taken to medbay for Cradle Regeneration Procedure. LCDM. Thuriam and PO2. Mendoza given appropriate treatment by medical staff. C. Local Time: 0100 | Action Taken: Established temporary JTF chain of command. LT. Yllaqen is temporary 3IC. D. Local Time: 0105 | Action Taken: Informed RADM. Stefnar (CO) and CDRE. Odil (XO) on the incident. E. Local Time: 0600 | Action Taken: Updated safety brief for all JTF operators, possession of small arms weaponry during leave temporarily authorized by CDM. Grayson (JTFC). 3. ADDENDUM:
Thuriam/al-Allee Personal Quarters, RNS Defender Maskiva always wished for a peaceful, boring time before every deployment. She was especially grateful for it now, the past four weeks on patrol, as the tray of food in her lower hands wobbled slightly when she knocked and unlocked the door. "It''s just me. I''m coming in with some food." Grunts filled her ears as the door opened and the soundproof seal broke. She slipped in quickly and flicked the Close button with a tail. Adira was a mess. Her hair was on ends, her hands were shaking with adrenaline, and she was desperately taking air into her lungs. Maskiva went to the control panel and shut off the CQC training hologram. Adira whirled around towards her. "I was using that." She placed the tray down, careful not to let her hands shake under her bunkmate''s glare. "You need to eat." Adira turned away, reaching for the controls. "I need to get back into fighting shape. Been off too long." "Can''t do that if you die from starvation." she replied, sighing internally as they fell into the familiar song and dance. "I got you apple slices. Not sure how you survive these, but at least eat them." That got the Terran to pause, nose scrunching and stomach tightening in hunger. "I- I suppose I could eat. Thank you sir." She sat down gingerly, taking care to not sit on her still-tender tailbone - she''d cracked it slamming herself against the wall during evasive training yesterday. Maskiva sat down next to her, carefully observing her bunkmate with a small smile. "You don''t have to keep calling me sir, you know? We''ve known each other long enough to start using names in private if you want." Adira wordlessly bit into another slice of apple. Fresh fruit was still a rarity on deployed ships, where there was no room for a greenhouse or cultivator. She remembered getting them from time to time as a kid. It was always such a treat, a luxury in a war-torn city that never really recovered after the Invasion. Sneaking onto that shuttle to Toronto probably saved her life. "Oh, by the way, Commander Grayson wants to see us at 1300 today. Sparring room." Aaaaand the reminiscing was over. "Why?" Maskiva shrugged, learning the little gesture after a few days around Terrans. "Why does he do anything? I have no idea." Adira downed the rest of her food - eat quick or starve on deployment - and put a gentle hand on Maskiva''s shoulder. "Thanks for the food,... Maskiva." Her name sounded exquisite leaving the Terran''s tongue, but Maskiva wasn''t about to tell her that. "And... for everything else." Everything else being what she did in Luxmera. It went unsaid, but they both knew. Maskiva nodded and, learning from watching how Terrans interacted with each other, put one of her own hands on top of Adira''s. The lieutenant''s eyes were immediately drawn to the commander''s bandaged hand. Cradle got the worst of it sorted out, but the deeper cuts still needed a few weeks to heal afterwards - some kind of chemical stopping her blood from congealing properly. They should come off by tomorrow. Shaking her head slightly to pull herself back to reality, Adira gave her bunkmate a smile, careful not to show teeth, and pulled the dirty PT uniform off for a fresh set. Maskiva pulled her eyes away as quickly as she could, face flushed purple. She dared herself to turn around and peek, letting her eyes roam the smooth expanse of the Terran''s back, admiring the coiled, flexing muscles for a mere second before having to turn away as her bunkmate pulled her shirt on and turned back around, the scars on her front peeking out of the collar. She turned the mental image around in her mind the entire walk towards the sparring room, meeting Ilinara at the door. For a supposed killing machine, Adira looked deceptively soft.
Sparring Room, RNS Defender ''Up. Down. Parry that. Stab. Flip grip. Shit. Drop. Catch. Duck. Slash. Step back. Duck. Turn.'' The internal, semi-subconscious commentary kept running inside his head as Eric continued trying to land a hit on Curtis with his training knife. Cheers, hoots, and betting callouts filled the room, but neither of them paid it any mind. Any two sane individuals would''ve called it a draw after the first hour. Anyone not doped up on Moceline would''ve called it at two. They were still going after four, both shirtless and drenched in sweat, because this wasn''t just a spar. It was a battle for the ages. Delta Force versus SEAL Team Six, officer versus NCO, Gen R versus Gen S. It was a matter of honor and dignity! Also, they had two thousand creds each on the line and pay didn''t drop for another week. Eric tucked his good arm into the crook of Curtis''s elbow, trying to stab at his neck. Curtis grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his arm nearly to the floor, slashing down at his exposed torso. A quick leg sweep avoided that hit and put them both on the mat, rolling away from each other to regain their bearings. Adjusting the grip on their respective knives, the soldier and the sailor charged at each other, looking to finally end this. The onboard AI beeped as they spun away from each other, projecting a hologram of the two fighters with simulated injuries. There was a slash on Eric''s neck, and a deep stab wound in Curtis''s left armpit. Even without the AI, they knew from intimate experience that both wounds would''ve been fatal in minutes, if that. The two stared at each other. "Draw?" "Draw. Good fight, sir." They shook hands. "You too, Senior. Same time next week?" Curtis threw a towel at him. "Sure. Oh, remember, we got that senior command meeting at 1800." "Thanks." The crowd was dispersing now, credits changing hands and Owen - the fucking gremlin - gleefully collecting his winnings. Seemed like no one betted on a draw. Eric''s eyes landed on Ilinara, standing next to Adira and a slightly purple Maskiva by the doorway. He waved them over as Curtis left. "The three of you, get over here." He moved to the center of the mat and waited for them, analyzing the way they move. "Thuriam, how has bunking with al-Allee been?" Maskiva didn''t physically tense away from his stare, and she was so very proud of herself for that. Small steps. "It''s been good, sir. We''ve gotten more familiar with each other over the past few weeks." "Still jumpy around us Terrans?" "Not as much as I used to be, sir, but still room to improve." Eric nodded. "Good. Small steps." He turned to Adira, his voice softening. "You good?" Adira straightened up. "Yes sir. Ready to get back to it." He grabbed his datapad and pulled up her file. "Doctor Mvir cleared you mentally, your weapon scores are still fucking ridiculous," a collective chuckle, "and you''re cleared from Medical, so all I need is a PT test and we''ll be ready to loop you back in. Chief Mitali will score you." That got a bright smile on her face. "When do I start, sir?" "Whenever your lunch is digested." As she warmed up and waited with Ilinara at the other end of the room, he turned back to Maskiva. "In the meantime, I''ll be training you on CQB." Now she tensed. "Sir?" She was never any good at close quarters, both her Academy CQB scores - barely above the standard - and the brawl at Luxmera proved that much. "You did the right thing at Luxmera, defending a squadmate like that, but you''ve spent your entire career being rearguard, overwatch, or running ancillary elements. And that''s fine," he assured her before she could defend herself. "Every job in the field is important. We rely on each other out there, no matter the role. But you need to at least know how to defend yourself if someone manages to get in close." He turned around, reaching for the environmental controls. "We''ll start at 1.4 standard Gs and go from there. Arms up, show me your form." Maskiva could already feel her limbs hanging heavy as she dragged them up into a fighting stance, letting Eric prowl around her with a jolt down her spinal cord. Fuck, this was gonna be hell. Peace, War, & Interspecies Relations - Chapter 4 JTF Commander''s Office, RNS Defender Ilinara stood at attention outside the door, listening as Kremric and Asiila answered some questions from their new CO. Standard stuff, some questions about the environment and culture around the task force, but nothing about them shooting him in the face. Strange. She turned to look as Maskiva came to a stop next to her. The Rimlaka officer was also in full dress, sharp gray uniform with her rank on full display. It hurt Ilinara to think that this could be the last time she saw her friend with those epaulets on her shoulders. Their heads snapped forward, at attention, as the door opened. They avoided eye contact as they left. Shit. This was bad. "Thuriam, Mitali. Get in here." Even having never interacted with a Terran before this whole thing, Ilinara knew anger when she heard it. She gripped Maskiva''s paw as the officer went in first. "Reporting, sir." She reached for a chair. "Did I tell you to sit?" Maskiva froze, mid-reach, and Ilinara stared at their commander in shock before they both snapped back into attention. Oh fuck. He was pissed. They watched as Grayson opened up a set of files, recognizing them as their own service records. "Lieutenant Commander Maskiva Thuriam. Rimlaka, born on Rimlak IV. Thirty cycles of age. Fourteen cycles of service. First peaceworlder to join a JTF, second to participate in three separate combat theatres. One of the best, if not the best, strategic minds your quadrant has ever produced. Six points off a perfect aptitude score." He looked up and stared the Rimlaka in the eyes, making her squirm. "Anything to say for yourself, Lieutenant Commander?" Ilinara didn''t dare breathe, glancing at her XO and friend with concern. The next thing that came out of Maskiva''s mouth was both the most and least expected thing she could''ve thought of. "Sir, the incident was my fault, I take full responsibility. Vassuki and Bharno were not at fault and should not be punished, sir." Grayson raised his eye fur - called an eyebrow, as Ilinara later learned - and released a short hum. "I agree. It was your fault." He lifted a datapad up for them to see. "This data packet will be sent to Joint Command once I''m done with the two of you. Inside, there are commendations and formal award recommendations for Petty Officers Bharno and Vassuki. They reacted valiantly and correctly with the information available to them at the time, and their bravery will be recognized. You have thirty seconds" a timer popped up on the desk, "exactly thirty seconds, to tell me why the paperwork detailing your demotion and reassignment to Malvor shouldn''t be included." Ilinara could see the exact moment Maskiva''s hearts stopped. She was stuttering, trying to hide her heavy breathing, and panicking. A demotion would cripple any career, but with the way Maskiva''s been treated in service it would be the absolute end for her. The reassignment to Malvor - the ass end of the middle of nowhere - would only ensure it. She found herself speaking up. "Sir, she-" His head snapped to her with incredible speed. "Was I talking to you, Chief Mitali?" It should be said that Ilinara had never been scared of officers below vice admiral, not even as a junior trooper. She was terrified now, stared down by sharp eyes that contained so much restrained anger by a creature that could crush her in mere minutes. "No, sir." "Stay there, I''ll get to you in a moment. Twenty six seconds, Thuriam. Why should I trust you to be my XO? Why should I trust you with my task force when you couldn''t even relay basic information properly?" Ilinara watched, heartbroken, as her XO and friend stuttered and try to find any reason to save her career and coming up with nothing. "Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two,-" "You shouldn''t, sir!" He paused. Looked at her like a predator checking out his next target. "Elaborate." Maskiva sniffled and gurgled her throat. "You''re right, sir. I was unable to control my emotions after receiving the news, and in so doing failed to deliver important information to the rest of my team, which led to a situation that put both you and the troopers I''m responsible for at risk." She looked at him with sticky eyes. "But I''m begging you, sir. Please, give me another chance. Just one chance, sir. I can prove myself trustworthy. Please, sir, this is all I have." A tense moment of silence. "You''re suspended from combat and combat-adjacent details until further notice, effective immediately....... Lieutenant Commander." Maskiva could''ve collapsed right then and there. She didn''t, telling herself to keep her legs under her until she was dismissed and out of sight. "Understood, sir. Thank you." "Didn''t do it for you, Thuriam. There will be further instructions. Wait outside." She snapped into a salute and left, smiling ever-so-slightly. Her career wasn''t over yet. Ilinara couldn''t help the little happy hum that came out of her at seeing Maskiva be spared. The raised eyebrow from Grayson told her that her reaction didn''t go unnoticed. "As for you, Chief Mitali, you''re the current Senior Enlisted Advisor of this task force, correct?" Where was this going? "Yes, sir. That is correct." "What are your primary duties, Chief?" "Sir, my primary duties as the Joint Task Force Senior Enlisted Advisor is to ensure that this task force is prepared to accomplish its mission, ensure the proper and efficient functioning of all troopers under my supervision, account for all troopers, equipment, and supplies, ensure all equipment is properly maintained, ensure that an acceptable level of health, discipline, and morale is maintained, and ensure that my commander is properly integrated into the task force command structure." "And do you feel like you''ve accomplished all of these duties?" Oh, that''s where this was going. "No, sir." He noted something down on his datapad. "Well, as you know, you currently share a rank with Chief Curtis Tran, and SEA for a JTF can be any rank from Chief to Master Chief. Now, admittedly, if we go by seniority or combat experience you''d lose out on this promotion anyway, but your failure to maintain a fully informed and prepared task force ensured it. You are no longer my SEA. Curtis Tran will be promoted to Senior Chief Petty Officer within the next few hours, report to him for your new duties. Understood?" Ilinara scrunched up her face in confusion but only responded with a quick "Yes, sir." He went easy on her. Why? "Dismissed, Chief. Call my XO back in here on your way out." Strangely, she couldn''t find it in herself to care for the reason.
SITUATION REPORT (SITREP) Security Classification: Classified - Level 5 Precedence: ? O (Priority) | ? P (Immediate) | ? R (Routine) Date Time Group (HHMMDD MON YYYY): 061827 JUN 2065 From: Ferrari, Chiara E. Ensign - USR Navy Intelligence Officer - JTF-7 SITREP Number: JTF7-SR-2551 To: Grayson, Kelly M. Vice Admiral - USR Navy Commanding Admiral - JOCOM Final: ? (check if final) Phase (select one): ? Stable | ? Uncertain | ? Alert | ? Distress 1. SITUATION: A. Description of Incident and Location: First contact and integration into JTF-7 command structure - RNS Defender B. Amplified Description: Five members assigned by Terran Federation Joint Military Command (see FN-107) made contact with commanding officers and non-enlisted members of Joint Task Force-7 at approx. 0545 hours. First contact included minor skirmish due to failure of communication within the existing command structure. Skirmish and communication failure have been resolved. C. Survival and Injuries: Casualties: N/A Major injuries: N/A Minor injuries: CDM. Grayson (laceration and puncture to arm) D. Method of Reporting Transmission: ? Public Comm | ? Broadcast Comm | ? Secured Comm E. Location of Reporting Station: Operational Intelligence Center, RNS Defender 2. ACTION TAKEN: A. Local Time: 0545 | Action Taken: Engaged in firefight against PO2. Bharno and PO1. Vassuki. First shot was fired by PO1. Vassuki. B. Local Time: 0550 | Action Taken: Established new command staff and updated chain of command. Briefed all personnel on changes to command staff. C. Local Time: 0610 | Action Taken: Briefed JTFX and SEA on new command structure. Promoted SCPO. Tran to SEA. 3. ADDENDUM:
Maskiva had never felt so small, so vulnerable, so positively terrified before. She was walking next to a deathworlder. Down a long hallway. Alone. Within reach. Her survival instincts, developed after a lifetime of exposure to warworld predators and a career of combat missions, were screaming at her. She wanted to run, needed to run, or she would die here. The logical side of her brain stamped those feelings out as they came. This was a test, just like everything else. Her commander was trying to see if she could last a simple walk down a hallway with him, in a calm and quiet environment, without freaking out. She could not afford to fail. She would not fail. Eventually, they reached the bulkhead at the end of the path, the one leading to the mess hall. It was time for their first meal of the day. Maskiva was so lost in her own head, it was only after they entered that she realized it wasn''t the officers'' mess. It was the communal one. Eyes were on both of them as they passed, moving to the section in the back unofficially reserved for JTF operators. She could see the others already there, eating and chatting. All twenty of them, including the new ones. The Terrans. The deathworlders. Stop it. Stop it, Maskiva. Get your shit together. They sat down at one of the tables, right in the middle. A Terran female, a lieutenant, sitting across from her acknowledged them with a nod, still chewing.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. As they sat down, someone tapped her shoulder, causing her to jump. Turning around, Maskiva was presented with a tray of her favorite foodstuff, a tall Terran female offering it to her. The fuck? She didn''t even hear her! Maskiva eyed the tray for a moment before taking it, her stomach twisting gratefully. "Thank you, Ensign... Ferrari." "Anytime, sir." She sat down on Eric''s other side, handing him another tray. Eric turned around to Maskiva. "That''s Ensign Chiara Ferrari, intelligence scout. You''re wondering how she knows your favorite food, right?" Maskiva nodded, still in a bit of shock. Eric smiled, remembering at the last moment to not show his teeth. "With her, it''s best not to ask. And over here," pointing at the other officer at the table, "is Lieutenant Adira al-Allee, sniper and third in command. Now, I told you that there will be additional instructions for you, remember?" "Uh, yes sir." She could feel herself getting used to the eyes and the staring, but she was still unnerved. "For the foreseeable future, you''ll be attached to Lieutenant al-Allee. You will bunk with her, eat with her, train with her, and show her the ins and outs of this task force. You two will get to know each other, be comfortable around one another, and both of you," turning to Adira, "will be assessed at a time of my choosing. Understood?" Outwardly, Maskiva let out a passable "Yes, sir" and busied herself with her food. Inwardly, she was panicking again. Working and living around Terrans was already stressing her out, but sleeping next to one!? How the fuck was she meant to do that? It was a minor comfort when Ilinara sat down next to her, giving her a familiar presence to focus on as one of her tails wrapped around her friend''s waist. That comfort cracked somewhat when the other three Terrans sat down across the table. All three were males, all different sizes and different colorations. "Commander Thuriam, meet your new Senior Enlisted Advisor, Senior Chief Curtis Tran. Oh, you''re promoted to Senior by the way, congrats Chief. Next to him there is Ralph Andrews, we served four cycles together in Delta, and the little bright-eyed snot down at the end there is Owen Mendoza, he makes things go boom. Guys, this is Lieutenant Commander Maskiva Thuriam, your XO. You''ll all get to know each other better over time. Alright, dig in, then meet back at quarters to get briefed on plans for the rest of this week." With that, everyone focused on filling themselves up with the necessary nutrients for whatever the day required of them.
"So.... you''re saying we''re free to do as we please, sir?" Eric was quick to catch on to what Owen was trying to pull. "Within reason and legal - I know how you juniors get - but yes. We have two rotations of stationside leave left, no reason I need to keep you all onboard for it. There''s twenty of us, so we go in two groups of ten. One group gets the first, the other gets the second." He looked around at all the faces - not really strangers but not yet familiar. "So, for this leave''s safety brief. Don''t add to the population, don''t subtract from the population. Don''t end up in the hospital, holonews, or jail. If you do end up in jail, establish dominance quickly. If you need to get out of jail, call me." A few quick taps on his datapad. "I''m gonna send randomly generated numbers to all of you. Odd numbers are with me, evens are with Commander Thuriam. Report back here by 0100 or I''m going out there to hunt your asses down. Any objections?" There were some questions, certain things to clarify, but no being in their right mind would object to some time off. Maskiva''s group ended up going first, giving Eric some time to fully settle into life on the Defender as hoots, laughs, and other sounds of excitement filled the area, Adira and Owen amongst them. Eric made sure he had some credits on hand for any bribes he''d have to make to local law enforcement. God knows, with those two out there, he''d need it.
As expected, he got a call long before curfew. The fact that it took Owen until 2330 to call him was impressive. "Commander Grayson speaking." "Uh, sir..." "Where are you, what do you need, and who do you need it for?" "We''re in the station brig in Section C14, need to post bail for three, sir." "You and al-Allee, I''m guessing?" "Yes, sir." "Who''s the third?" There was a long pause. "Owen?" "The XO, sir." Well, wasn''t that surprising. "Be there in twenty. Deny, deflect, and deny until I get there." "Understood." He took his credit chit, hung up the call, and walked out. "Lieutenant Yllaqen, I''m going out. You''re in command." The elfish officer looked up just long enough to acknowledge him. "Yes, sir." Eric checked his account balance as he made his way down to C14. Time to put that Terran reputation to work.
Outside Detainment Station, Section C, Level 14 Eric stared at the three sitting by the roadside. Owen was sporting a black eye and a nasty bruise on his temple. Maskiva''s tails were bleeding from the tip, two of her digits looked broken, and her top was ripped to shit. Adira, meanwhile, was worse than the other two combined. Her hair was tangled and damaged, like it''d been pulled from behind, her right eye was swelling badly, and her body was cut up to hell, long lacerations down the length of her torso. They were bandaged with what looked like strips of her own jacket, soaked through with a mix of different colored blood. She''d need to be disinfected and redressed. Even knowing that a few hours in a Cradle would heal her almost completely, he couldn''t help a hiss of sympathy from coming out. "What the fuck happened?" When he got there, he expected rowdy, roughed up soldiers that did some stupid shit, not.... this. Maskiva looked around, letting Adira lean on her. "We should debrief in private, sir." With that, she helped Adira to her feet. The lieutenant struggled to maintain her balance, a sure sign of blood loss, Owen lifted her up into his arms, ignoring her muttered protests as he carried her back to the ship. Maskiva fell back behind the two, filling him in on what she knew.
INCIDENT REPORT Security Classification: Top Secret - Level 10 Precedence: ? O (Priority) | ? P (Immediate) | ? R (Routine) Date Time Group (HHMMDD MON YYYY): 011828 JUN 2065 From: Grayson, Eric J. Commander - USR Navy Commanding Officer - JTF-7 SITREP Number: JTF7-IR-403 To: Grayson, Kelly M. Vice Admiral - USR Navy Commanding Admiral - JOCOM Final: ? (check if final) Phase (select one): ? Stable | ? Uncertain | ? Alert | ? Distress 1. SITUATION: A. Description of Incident and Location: JTF-7 members assaulted off-duty - Astarine Outpost B. Amplified Description: JTF-7 was granted leave as per stationside resupply schedule. The group for the first rotation included LCDM. Thuriam, LT. al-Allee, and PO2. Mendoza, among others. According to LCDM. Thuriam, LT. al-Allee was separated from the group in a nightclub called Luxmera, leading to LCDM. Thuriam finding LT. al-Allee being physically assaulted by approx. twenty (20) beings of various species, all visibly armed with blades and/or naturally-evolved claws. LCDM. Thuriam interfered to assist LT. al-Allee, and PO2. Mendoza joined in after exiting the club''s lavatory, leading to a physical altercation that resulted in the bodily injury and arrests of all three operators involved. C. Survival and Injuries: Casualties: N/A Major injuries: LT. al-Allee (lacerations on torso, blood loss, swollen right eye) Minor injuries: LCDM. Thuriam (minor bleeding on tails, broken digits on upper left limb), PO2 Mendoza (swollen left eye) D. Method of Reporting Transmission: ? Public Comm | ? Broadcast Comm | ? Secured Comm E. Location of Reporting Station: JTF-7 Commanding Officer''s Office, RNS Defender 2. ACTION TAKEN: A. Local Time: 2350 | Action Taken: Paid bail for the release of LCDM. Thuriam, LT. al-Allee, and PO2. Mendoza. First aid administered to LT. al-Allee. B. Local Time: 0025 | Action Taken: LT. al-Allee taken to medbay for Cradle Regeneration Procedure. LCDM. Thuriam and PO2. Mendoza given appropriate treatment by medical staff. C. Local Time: 0100 | Action Taken: Established temporary JTF chain of command. LT. Yllaqen is temporary 3IC. D. Local Time: 0105 | Action Taken: Informed RADM. Stefnar (CO) and CDRE. Odil (XO) on the incident. E. Local Time: 0600 | Action Taken: Updated safety brief for all JTF operators, possession of small arms weaponry during leave temporarily authorized by CDM. Grayson (JTFC). 3. ADDENDUM:
Thuriam/al-Allee Personal Quarters, RNS Defender Maskiva always wished for a peaceful, boring time before every deployment. She was especially grateful for it now, the past four weeks on patrol, as the tray of food in her lower hands wobbled slightly when she knocked and unlocked the door. "It''s just me. I''m coming in with some food." Grunts filled her ears as the door opened and the soundproof seal broke. She slipped in quickly and flicked the Close button with a tail. Adira was a mess. Her hair was on ends, her hands were shaking with adrenaline, and she was desperately taking air into her lungs. Maskiva went to the control panel and shut off the CQC training hologram. Adira whirled around towards her. "I was using that." She placed the tray down, careful not to let her hands shake under her bunkmate''s glare. "You need to eat." Adira turned away, reaching for the controls. "I need to get back into fighting shape. Been off too long." "Can''t do that if you die from starvation." she replied, sighing internally as they fell into the familiar song and dance. "I got you apple slices. Not sure how you survive these, but at least eat them." That got the Terran to pause, nose scrunching and stomach tightening in hunger. "I- I suppose I could eat. Thank you sir." She sat down gingerly, taking care to not sit on her still-tender tailbone - she''d cracked it slamming herself against the wall during evasive training yesterday. Maskiva sat down next to her, carefully observing her bunkmate with a small smile. "You don''t have to keep calling me sir, you know? We''ve known each other long enough to start using names in private if you want." Adira wordlessly bit into another slice of apple. Fresh fruit was still a rarity on deployed ships, where there was no room for a greenhouse or cultivator. She remembered getting them from time to time as a kid. It was always such a treat, a luxury in a war-torn city that never really recovered after the Invasion. Sneaking onto that shuttle to Toronto probably saved her life. "Oh, by the way, Commander Grayson wants to see us at 1300 today. Sparring room." Aaaaand the reminiscing was over. "Why?" Maskiva shrugged, learning the little gesture after a few days around Terrans. "Why does he do anything? I have no idea." Adira downed the rest of her food - eat quick or starve on deployment - and put a gentle hand on Maskiva''s shoulder. "Thanks for the food,... Maskiva." Her name sounded exquisite leaving the Terran''s tongue, but Maskiva wasn''t about to tell her that. "And... for everything else." Everything else being what she did in Luxmera. It went unsaid, but they both knew. Maskiva nodded and, learning from watching how Terrans interacted with each other, put one of her own hands on top of Adira''s. The lieutenant''s eyes were immediately drawn to the commander''s bandaged hand. Cradle got the worst of it sorted out, but the deeper cuts still needed a few weeks to heal afterwards - some kind of chemical stopping her blood from congealing properly. They should come off by tomorrow. Shaking her head slightly to pull herself back to reality, Adira gave her bunkmate a smile, careful not to show teeth, and pulled the dirty PT uniform off for a fresh set. Maskiva pulled her eyes away as quickly as she could, face flushed purple. She dared herself to turn around and peek, letting her eyes roam the smooth expanse of the Terran''s back, admiring the coiled, flexing muscles for a mere second before having to turn away as her bunkmate pulled her shirt on and turned back around, the scars on her front peeking out of the collar. She turned the mental image around in her mind the entire walk towards the sparring room, meeting Ilinara at the door. For a supposed killing machine, Adira looked deceptively soft.
Sparring Room, RNS Defender ''Up. Down. Parry that. Stab. Flip grip. Shit. Drop. Catch. Duck. Slash. Step back. Duck. Turn.'' The internal, semi-subconscious commentary kept running inside his head as Eric continued trying to land a hit on Curtis with his training knife. Cheers, hoots, and betting callouts filled the room, but neither of them paid it any mind. Any two sane individuals would''ve called it a draw after the first hour. Anyone not doped up on Moceline would''ve called it at two. They were still going after four, both shirtless and drenched in sweat, because this wasn''t just a spar. It was a battle for the ages. Delta Force versus SEAL Team Six, officer versus NCO, Gen R versus Gen S. It was a matter of honor and dignity! Also, they had two thousand creds each on the line and pay didn''t drop for another week. Eric tucked his good arm into the crook of Curtis''s elbow, trying to stab at his neck. Curtis grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his arm nearly to the floor, slashing down at his exposed torso. A quick leg sweep avoided that hit and put them both on the mat, rolling away from each other to regain their bearings. Adjusting the grip on their respective knives, the soldier and the sailor charged at each other, looking to finally end this. The onboard AI beeped as they spun away from each other, projecting a hologram of the two fighters with simulated injuries. There was a slash on Eric''s neck, and a deep stab wound in Curtis''s left armpit. Even without the AI, they knew from intimate experience that both wounds would''ve been fatal in minutes, if that. The two stared at each other. "Draw?" "Draw. Good fight, sir." They shook hands. "You too, Senior. Same time next week?" Curtis threw a towel at him. "Sure. Oh, remember, we got that senior command meeting at 1800." "Thanks." The crowd was dispersing now, credits changing hands and Owen - the fucking gremlin - gleefully collecting his winnings. Seemed like no one betted on a draw. Eric''s eyes landed on Ilinara, standing next to Adira and a slightly purple Maskiva by the doorway. He waved them over as Curtis left. "The three of you, get over here." He moved to the center of the mat and waited for them, analyzing the way they move. "Thuriam, how has bunking with al-Allee been?" Maskiva didn''t physically tense away from his stare, and she was so very proud of herself for that. Small steps. "It''s been good, sir. We''ve gotten more familiar with each other over the past few weeks." "Still jumpy around us Terrans?" "Not as much as I used to be, sir, but still room to improve." Eric nodded. "Good. Small steps." He turned to Adira, his voice softening. "You good?" Adira straightened up. "Yes sir. Ready to get back to it." He grabbed his datapad and pulled up her file. "Doctor Mvir cleared you mentally, your weapon scores are still fucking ridiculous," a collective chuckle, "and you''re cleared from Medical, so all I need is a PT test and we''ll be ready to loop you back in. Chief Mitali will score you." That got a bright smile on her face. "When do I start, sir?" "Whenever your lunch is digested." As she warmed up and waited with Ilinara at the other end of the room, he turned back to Maskiva. "In the meantime, I''ll be training you on CQB." Now she tensed. "Sir?" She was never any good at close quarters, both her Academy CQB scores - barely above the standard - and the brawl at Luxmera proved that much. "You did the right thing at Luxmera, defending a squadmate like that, but you''ve spent your entire career being rearguard, overwatch, or running ancillary elements. And that''s fine," he assured her before she could defend herself. "Every job in the field is important. We rely on each other out there, no matter the role. But you need to at least know how to defend yourself if someone manages to get in close." He turned around, reaching for the environmental controls. "We''ll start at 1.4 standard Gs and go from there. Arms up, show me your form." Maskiva could already feel her limbs hanging heavy as she dragged them up into a fighting stance, letting Eric prowl around her with a jolt down her spinal cord. Fuck, this was gonna be hell.