The Black

The Landing strip and Hanger were about a 2 minute walk from the house. The four of them walked along a cleared path on the jungle floor, although there were walkways at several levels up and down canopy of trees. The Jungle, as the Delmar called it, was not like the jungles of earth. The tree’s stood hundreds of feet tall. The individual tree’s resembled the great Redwood forests of earth crossed with the fictional Wookie home world from Star Wars. The jungle floor was surprisingly open, and the trees grew vary large limbs relatively sporadically down low, with the density of growth thickening much higher up. The trees were a wild combination of Auburn, Silver, and Brown. Doc had explained that the trees here photosynthesize much like Terran plants, but the soils nutrients needed in aid of this caused the coloration. Mac could easily see Tristen or Brayton disappearing into the canopy with their natural camouflage rendering them invisible in moment.

The group reached the House, and had to climb a ladder 20 meters into the canopy, to reach the doorstep. “We use trams for most of our travel, but Tili and I bought you a housewarming present.” Doc mentioned waving the couple over to the side of the house

.

Lyrian literally squealed as she sprinted over to what looked like the combination of a 1937 Studabaker 4 door President with a cluster of some kind of lifting drives replacing what would normally be the wheel wells.

“Doc, this is a mighty hefty house warming gift” Mac offered. Slowly eyeing up the craft.

“Mac, the majority of my life has been aboard Traveler, not needing a lot of stuff for decades, but still getting paid, means I can afford to buy 7 of those and drive them into a cliff. You two deserve it” Doc smiled.

Max raised an eyebrow at him, “One day, I am going to get you drunk enough to spill your stories, Ole Man” Doc Icario just smirked back at him.

Lyrian bounded back over to the three were standing. “Da’ she’s beautiful!! Thank you!!” She wrapped up her father in law in a massive hug.

Doc wasn’t used to hugs; Delmar didn’t use them so much as they touched forehead. He sputtered for a second, taking a step back obsorb the impact, then returned the gesture somewhat awkwardly.

“Now. IN! get changed, we’re gonna be late!” Tili said, shooing the two towards their front door.

“So, this is home…” Mac whispered as he punched in the code to unlock the door. Lyrian let out a squeak of surprise as Mac spun as she got to the front door, scooping her up in his arms bridal carry.

“A tradition of my people,” he said, “The man Carries his bride across the threshold of their first house” he stated as they entered, Lyri sitting rather smugly in his arms. He sat her down on the other side as the door swung closed behind them. The Delmar called their planet side homes ‘lodges’. It reminded Mac of a Rocky mounting Hunting lodge on the inside, with almost Nordic accents on the exterior around the exterior trim and roof. The rustic feel was only slightly broken up by the very not rustic modern appliances. Delmar liked their vertical space so all of the bedrooms were upstairs with a small sitting balcony over looking the open concept dining room/living room/ kitchen area.

“Just missing a glass gun cabinet and a few trophies” Mentioned Mac.

“A what now?” Doc asked.

“Humanity has many different styles of housing, your architecture has blended two of them together with surprising accuracy. In a large area of mountains in my home country, we build houses like this. We call them ‘Hunting lodges’ and Humans build them in areas they like to hunt at, but don’t want to damage the habitat of their prey.” Mac said from around the corner before closing the master bedroom door for Lyri and himself to get out of their flight suits and into more party ready clothes.

“Simultaneously killing, and protecting prey animals of your home world. Humanity is certainly a paradox” Doc pondered. Then looked up in surprise as Lyrian walked out holding… “what on earth are you wearing!”

“A Hawaiian shirt!” Announced Lyri waving dramatically to Macs boisterously pattered attire. Lyrian was grinning as she posed on her equally vibrant poncho over white halter top and tan pants. “I told you It was worth it” she told her husband. Mac was wearing a new shirt. In fact, it was very new.

Lyrian had decided to have it made along with her matching Poncho as a surprise. She had put an order into the Travelers autofab for a matching pair of Delmar themed Hawaiian attire. Her poncho was a blue background smattered with Delmar foliage in Silver with Auburn. while her poncho contained slightly more silvers than auburn, Mac’s shirt was a matching inverse with the Same background color and leaf pattern but biased with more auburn than silver foliage.

Mac grinned widely, forgetting about his teeth for a moment, “Oh the look on your faces.” He laughed before grabbing a small backpack and slinging in while donning a pair of Aviators, “party time!” He bellowed. The four climbed into the new air-car; Mac relinquishing the drivers seat to Lyrian until he had time to learn the new craft. And they departed for the main ‘Hall’.

——————————————————————

Silu had finally had to pry himself away from being grandpa. The twins were adorable. His daughter had been beaming when he stepped off the transit shuttle onto the transit Hub tarmac. His wife Marisala was holding one of the twins, his daughter Filori had the other. He had spent the mid day meal with the twins and his girls. Their father was the Harbor Master of the shipyard, he would be joining them later at the main lodge.

Silu straightened his shoulders and back, one does not keep the head of Helyon waiting. He range the chime on the office door.

—————————————————————-

Darclemus Rubrian Cluras had been head of Tribe Helyon for 60 ‘years. He had seen a few outsiders marry into the tribe. It was fairly common, encouraged to keep the children strong and unburdened by the malformations inherent in excessive inbreeding . Rare was it for a non-Delmar to marry in, and unheard of for a successful Claiming to take place with a non-Delmar. This, in fact, was the first recorded successful claiming of a non-Delmar mate in over a thousand years, and it warranted a thorough investigation at a minimum. The door chimed, and the ancient Delmar pushed the button on his desk, “Come!”

The Captain of the Lucid Traveler stepped through the door, still in his working uniform. “You asked to see me, Sir?”

“Yes, I trust you got to see your new grandchildren already?” Darclemus asked. He knew it was Arrival Day. He had intentionally sent his summons with an addendum to come after mid-day meal, giving the captain at least some time for reunion.

“Yes. Mari and I got to share a meal with them before I came. Thank you for that.” Silu gave a small formal nodded, taking the indicated to seat across from his wife’s great uncle and Tribal head of state. “How may I be of service.” he asked leaning back and settling in.

“I require clarity. This James Mackenzie. I need your …. perspective…. nephew.” He raised his hand to prevent interruption, “Silu, you are not under investigation. I can find no fault in your actions considering what you knew, when you knew it, and the heavy hand that the UGN used in all of this. However, there are some disturbing holes in what I have had come across my desk. I need the full story.”

“Certainly, uncle.” Silu nodded. Took a deep breath. And began with the emergency exit from Subspace…..

Two hours later, Darclemus leaned forward in his chair. “Thank you, my boy. Now I must ask you the unpleasant questions about your niece. This claiming, do you believe it to be successful. We have few records of this happening before, but rarely. It usually does not end well for the female’s mind.”

“I’ll have to answer that in two parts. Yes, I believe the Claiming was successful at a deep level. My own records of.. uh… noise complaints… are proof enough of that. Yet, I have also noticed a change in mannerisms in both parties. Mackenzie comes from a race that is one of several competing Apex species on his planet. As such, he exhibits both the care and gentleness of a communal family unit culture that is very similar to us. He also exhibits extreme apex tendencies towards aggression and violence. Lyrian has picked up some of those aggressive tendencies, and Mackenzie has started exhibiting more Delmar manerism. There was one incident where Mackenzie was forced to use violence to protect my niece. She was very close to him and experienced his reaction intimately. She recovered, albeit slowly, but Doctor Icario sees no lasting effects.”

“I see.” The head of states scratched his chin, “What of this plan of his..to contact his home world.. should we aid him, or hinder.”

“M’Lord, I trust him. The blood on his hands, in protection of my ship, my crew, and my family demand it of me.” Silu stated flatly, “I believe meeting with him would give you a more impartial assessment on this count. I cannot give one.” he finished with another slight bow.

“I appreciate the candor, Captain.” The older man said solemnly. Then visibly brightened, “Now enough official business, off with you! Enjoy the celebrations. I’ll see you at the Hall for a pint.”

With that, the meeting was done, and Silu took his leave.

——————————————————————

Tristen ribbed Martin with his elbow, “They’re here… holy shit!”

Martin turned to look at the entrance to “The Hall” and erupted into one of his trademark belly laughs.

“Oh, this will be remembered.” He gasped between bouts of laughter. He finished his drink, “Well don’t just stand there! Let’s go say hi!” he bellowed, wrapping Tristen’s neck in the crook of his elbow and dragging the younger man along toward to two most obnoxiously vibrant outfits he had seen in his entire life, and his friends wearing them.

“Martin!” Lyri exclaimed. She had seen them coming immediately and rushed over, Mac in tow.

“Well, you two know how to make an entrance” Tristen laughed, finally able to fight off the Pudgy Chef. “What the hell is that.” he pointed at the both of them.

“Hawaiian meets Delmar, the best of both!” Mac Laughed, snagging a pair of bottled Ales from a wandering server’s tray. He handed one to Lyrian, “Her idea.” He nodded to his bride.

“Well, at least you got the colors right” Tristen offered.

Dinner was served ad hock. There was a giant central table with some finger food and sides. The serving staff had main courses on their platters, and they wondered the halls near the edges of the hall. The tables lined those same edges, and people quickly found old friends while filling their plates. The space in between was for mingling, talking, and wandering; but there was a space on the opposite end of the hall with a live musical group. They would take song requests, or play ambiance music throughout the night. In front of them, in a space between the end of the central table and the stage, the floor was kept clear for dancing. The dancing was sporadic, mostly due to certain age groups coming and going from the dance floor as music from their youth shuffled through.

Tristen, Brayton, Martin, Lyrian, Mac, and eventually Doc Icario had ensconced themselves at a table on the edge of the dance floor. Mac was slightly buzzed. Martin was plastered with Lyrian slightly drunker than Mac. Brayton was sipping a Delmar version of a Soda, being to young to drink alcohol for another season or so.

Mac finally nodded and started fiddling around in his backpack, pulling out a Delmar made Data stick. “It’s time we had our first dance.” he said before standing up and heading for the band.

“Can you guys play from a stick?” He called over to the lead guy.

“Yea, what you got!” He called over through the din of the Hall, walking over to the edge where Mac was standing.

“It’s a special song from my home, just let it play. I’m newly married, and we never got to do a tradition of my homeworld. We never got a first dance.” Mac explained.

“Im not sure what a first dance is, but I think I can do something. You got 1 min before the music starts” the Lead said, walking over to his spot next to a cross between a keyboard and a DJ scratch board.

Mac walked back to the group, “Lyri, hop up for a min, I got a surprise.”

“Oh? Still hiding stuff from me?” she asked in a mock hurt voice as he caught her hand and led her to the dance floor.

“Nah, I just thought of this one actually.” he said just as the music paused and the lead guy started speaking.

“Sorry to interrupt. I have an, I suspect, special song request. These two over here.” he pointed to Mac and a very confused Lyrian, “Were bonded and wed while on passage. Mackenzie here has a tradition from his home world called a ‘first dance’. So, this next song is for them. Im told there is a translation available for the screen.” he finished.

Mac took Lyrian around the waist with his left hand and took her left hand in his right, “I’ll lead, you follow. I’ll go slow” he whispered pulling her in close into a dancing position that felt both formal and intimate at the same time. Several people closer to the dance floor turned to watch, as the dance floor cleared out to look on as well.

The opening violins of ‘At Last- Etta James’ played over the speakers. Mac started moving the two of them as the Ancient Voice Rang out in English with the translation playing behind them on the screen. Mac worked in a slow waltzing square, letting Lyrian both have time to follow and read the translation on the screen.

Lyrian stopped reading after the first chorus, she didn’t need to. She just leaned into Mac as they glided gracefully, if not quickly, around the dance floor. She only stepped on his toes once.

The music faded, and Mac turned to give a slight bow of thanks to the band leader before guiding Lyrian back to the table.

“That was.. wow… im stealing that tradition.” Brayton spoke first. Shattering the reverent silence as Mac and Lyri made it back and sat down.

“The song was Beautiful. What is that dance called.” Lyrian asked as mac pushed her seat in and sat down himself.

“I modified a human dance called the ‘waltz’ to fit the music.” Mac responded, “I think it turned out well.”

“I loved it, Delmar doesn’t have a dance that… close to each other.” Lyrian said.

“Until now, look.” Martin pointed back at the dance floor. Another song was on, a slow one somewhat similar to Mac’s request. The floor was almost half full, of couples trying to imitate the dance that Mac had led Lyrian in during their first dance… to varying degrees of success.

“Well shit. I guess I just dropped a cluster bomb on Delmar culture with that one.. my bad.” Mac chuckled. The group had a good gafa over that one and went back to drinking and cutting up amongst themselves.

“Well that was something.” Silu’s eyes darted over his shoulder as Icario and Tili joined him near the dance floor. “I see a new dancing trend in our future.”

“But they are so close, their bodies are touching.” Tili complained.

“Yet its so formal looking, even respectful.” Silu responded.

“It is, you know what? Lets go.” Doc said taking Tili’s hand. Her shocked face staring incredulously back at him.

“You can’t be serious!” she gasped, but Icario just pulled her to him too quickly for her to further protest, catching her around the waist while still holding on to her hand.

“I am, come my love. Let’s see what the floor holds for us.” Icario coo’d into her ear.

Tili was a propper woman, she never really liked public displays of affection. However, she melted slightly at His voice, and his emotions through their bond, “Ok dear, just this one dance.”

“That’s my girl” Icario whispered as he started their waltzing glide out onto the dance floor. He smirked a little as he remembered coming to Mac after discovering classical human music late one boring night on passage. Mac had told him about the waltz and given him a quick run down. He put his lesson to good use.

Two songs later, Mac turned to survey the dance floor. The band had gone into a groove session of sorts. His ‘first dance’ choice had become a Hit, and the band was now improvising a dam good representation of the Genre. A familiar face, no, pair of faces caught his eye. Doc Icario noticed him smiling and shot him a wink. Tili was too busy leaning into Doc with her head on his shoulder, Lost as much in the movement as she was in the song, or his touch.

“I was wondering if you would remember, you old sly devil.” he muttered, then turned to see the others faces and pointed back at Doc, “Ol’ man still has it.” he said. There were good natured, if quiet laughs all around. They struggled to not let them get louder as they caught Silu, his bride in tow, somewhat less gracefully making their way around the dance floor. Mac doubted they cared, considering the smiles on their faces.

Later that evening, Mac started to walk the Hall with Lyrian. They had slowed their drinking considerably, so as not to get too drunk; and Mac had wanted to go exploring. They had ended up on the second floor of the Hall that wrapped around the edge of the lower floor with a balcony facing inward to see below. Mac and Lyri slowly paced the balcony, watching the children run around… sometimes chased by frantic parents… as they walked arm in arm. Mac paused as he heard gruff male voices singing, off in the corner. “Some things stay the same the galaxy over.” Mac said, nodding to the gaggle of Sailors, ‘definitely sailors’, sat singing drinking songs and telling stories.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Darting back down to grab his backpack before returning. Together they walked up to the group.

“How’s it going” Mac said sitting down in an open spot. The men looked confused and Lyrian perched herself on a table just behind him to lean in.

“Uh, you lookin’ for someone? I didn’t know we had vis’tors.” one offered. It was cute, they were trying to be polite.

“Oh, I’m right where I wanna be,” Mac said with a smile, pulling out a bottle of Lycan Brandy from his pack. Setting down on the table between them with a thump, “James Mackenzie Grarzia, And I know a group o’ Sailors when I See em’. Even if we sail the Black these days and not the Blue.”.

One of the men popped up his head, “Mac! I know you! You came in on the Traveler! Im Brukvur, I run one of the Larboard Flak guns when I’m not in Astrometrics.”

“Ah! I remember you, you have a scary mind for trajectory.” Mac laughed opening the bottle, “Lets not let it go to waste, boys!” he bellowed as they offered their glasses, some downing the remainder of what they had before getting a new pour. Drinks were had, Stories were told, some real, some fake, nobody cared. Lyrian eventually sat down next to Mac when they realized she was Senior Con officer. A couple of them were defense fighters, and they began to compare combat stories. Some darker, some not. Everyone had lost friends over the years.

One of the Delmar pilots finally spoke up, “A toast! To the ones who rest in the void. The ones who never made it back so that we could.” A cheer went ‘round and drinks were slammed down. Lyrian swallowed her drink, but looked over with concern as a very intense sadness broiled off of Mac for a moment, staring into the middle of, or maybe through the middle of the table.

Mac finally spoke, “I would like to do a toast to the fallen, as well.” He slowly reached down, pulling out a three quarters empty amber bottle with a green label. Gold lettering reading ‘Jeremiah Weed’.

“This is a tradition where I come from. I was a deep space fighter pilot in my home system during a war that claimed almost half my species. I have lost many. Would you do me the honor of this traditional salute.” He stated somberly, and the table quickly silenced.

They all nodded, and Mac produced several tiny glasses from his pack. One for each of the men at the table, 8 in total. And one for Lyrian. he clustered them together in a circle each touching the next. He then opened the bottle, almost reverently, “To Danny and Miles lost over Centerpoint to a stray MAC round… To Salina and Jacob they took out that big martian bastard over ceres. I owe them my life. To Conner and Bruce, lost over the moon defending Luna Base from an insertion team…..” Mac had a name for each pour of the bottle, ending with Lyrian’s glass. He spoke as he poured the last of the bottle into her glass, “To your Uncle Rico, Whom gave the highest sacrifice over Bricus. He granted me a little more time to get a shot.”

He held up his hand as they reached for the drinks, “They aren’t quite ready yet. My people have a weapon. It looks for and chases heat signatures on void craft.” Mac began as he pulled out a little square device from his pocket and flicked it open, “Its so dangerous; that when we fire one in combat, we let everyone of our own know that it is on the loose by calling ‘fox2’ over our Coms when we fire. Whatever you do, commit and you won’t be harmed.”

With that Mac lit the cigarette lighter and touched it to the shot glass closest to him. The alcohol fumes lit immediately and soon the flame spread to all the glasses in turn. Mac nodded and took his glass. As the others did He held it out. “FOX 2!” He bellowed and threw back the flaming shot, swallowing the liquor and extinguishing the flames.

“Fox2!” The rest shouted, including Lyrian, and did the same. Everyone made it through without burning themselves. Mac slammed the now hot shot glass down on the table, “Good Kill” he said softly… “Now! Who wants to teach me one of your drinking songs!!”

And they were off, Drunkenly trading shanties into the night..