The Privateer

"You don't have to do this, you know." Lissa's sword swept past Yvian's helmet. Yvian countered with a simple side-step and a stab, which her sister barely dodged. She backpedaled, gaining some distance before she continued, "You could have stayed behind."

"I won't let her control me," Yvian replied. She advanced, circling slightly to force Lissa into the corner of the training room. "I refuse to be afraid."

Lissa realized she was almost trapped. She took the only option she could, bursting forward with a diagonal slash. Yvian easily batted it aside. Her sister whipped the blade around for a horizontal strike, but Yvian was already moving. Her sword smacked into Lissa's wrist a quarter of a second before ramming into Lissa's voidarmor right where her heart would be.

"I'm just saying," the loser continued. "You don't have to deal with her again. She's not your mother anymore."

"Can you two focus?" Captain Mims chided. The human was engaged in a furious back and forth with Scarrend. The Vrrl held a katana in each hand, striking with blistering speed. Mims dodged and deflected with uncanny grace. His single sword smacked into Scarrend's upper left forearm, forcing the beast to drop the weapon. The sight filled Yvian with awe and envy. The motherless son wasn't even short of breath. "If you can have a conversation, you're not training hard enough."

"You're having a conversa-GAAH" Scarrend's quip ended with the human's sword in his solar plexus.

"See?" said the human. "Talking is a distraction. And distractions," he leveled his training sword at the gasping Vrrl, "are costly."

"I think I need a break," said Lissa. "I'm out of practice."

"Yeah. You are." Mims signaled Scarrend, and they both leaned their weapons against the wall. The human removed his helmet, revealing a face without a single drop of sweat. The motherless son. "You might want to start taking more time for yourself. You've been running yourself ragged since Brilend Prime."

"Eight million refugees aren't going to process themselves," Lissa pointed out." Her hair was satisfyingly plastered to her head when the helmet came off. "Then there's the war with the Trelg, backdoor deals with the Krog..."

"I know," said the Captain. "It's been a long couple of months. That's why you should take some time for yourself." He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe after this run..."

"After this run," Lissa reminded him, "The Oluken are going to remove the implants on nearly a million pixen slaves. A million homeless, traumatized people that we have to make a place for." She shook her head. "The work will never end."

"That's the point I was making," said the human. "The work's not gonna end. You need to take care of yourself."

"Seriously, Sis," said Yvian. "The Oluken found a way to remove slave implants! You should be happy." The climate controlled air of the training room felt cool on her face as she put her own helmet away. "Instead you just look more stressed."

"Maybe if I had more help..." Lissa glowered at Yvian.

Yvian looked down. "I know." Yvian had spent the last few months training with Scarrend and working with the Peacekeepers on sector defense. She'd had as little to do with the refugees as possible. Now, seeing the state Lissa was in... Yvian should have done more. Or at least tried... She shrugged a shoulder. "They hate me."

Lissa's glare held for another moment before she softened. Her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Sis. It's just..." She sighed. "It's just been hard."

"Speaking of help," Mims changed the subject. "Have there been any new candidates?"

"A few." Lissa opened the cooler by the door, retrieving a bottle of water. Training was the only time Mims allowed drinks outside of the kitchen, and it was always water. She guzzled it down. "Most of the people with experience worked for the Guilds, and they were..." she grimaced.

"Assholes?" Mims suggested.

"Evil?" Yvian put in.

"Unsuitable." Lissa opted for diplomacy. "The Peacekeepers have been looking for pixens with leadership potential but..." she shrugged. "Natural leaders that care about the people around them get culled. We haven't found very many."

"Yeah, that's a problem." Mims tossed a water to Scarrend, and another to Yvian. "But leadership can be taught just like anything else. We'll work it out."

"I don't know..." Yvian started. She paused to take a drink. The cool liquid was refreshing after so much physical activity, but she still wished to Crunch that it was beer. "Most pixens aren't taking any of the classes. Or therapy. Or anything, really. They're all..." she took another sip while she struggled for the right words. "Traumatized, I guess. Lost. It might be a generation before we start pulling ourselves together."

"I'm not sure you have a generation," said Scarrend. "Between the Vore, the Confederation, and the humans, it's only a matter of time before you are attacked. The Peacekeepers are a force to be reckoned with, but your new nation won't last long if pixens can't learn to stand on their own feet."

"The Pixen Technocracy will survive." Kilroy's voice came over the intercom. "Peacekeeper units will assist them. Peacekeeper units will protect them. Peacekeeper units will be sufficient to give them the time they need."

"Thanks, Kilroy." Yvian smiled. The Peacekeepers were dangerous, bloodthirsty killers, but they'd shown themselves to be very patient, and very protective of their adopted nation. A free and powerful Pixa had been Yvian's dream for as long as she could remember, and seeing how poorly her people were reacting to freedom and safety had been... hard. More than hard. Kilroy's reassurance removed some of that weight. She waved at one of the walls. She didn't know which sensors the machine was using to monitor them, but she was sure he saw the gesture.

"How long has he been listening?" Scarrend wondered.

"This unit is always listening," Kilroy told him. "This unit requires constant vigilance in order to keep you meatbags out of trouble."

"Anyway," Lissa continued. "We've got about two thousand people training for leadership positions and refugee placement." She took another drink. "Which sounds like a lot until you realize the Technocracy's got twenty million people in it, now."

"Twenty one million, six hundred thirty two thousand, nine hundred and four," Kilroy said over the intercom.

"With another million on the way," said Yvian, "if the Oluken can do what they say."

"They'd better," said Mims. "Considering how much we paid them." He chugged down the rest of his water. "Hey, Kilroy, how long 'til we hit Tenril Station?"

"We will be docked in thirty seven minutes."

"Thanks, Kilroy." Mims ran a hand through his obnoxiously dry hair. "I think we're done with training for today. Let's get cleaned up and get this over with."

Oh, right. Yvian had forgotten that Mims hated Yasme, too. "You don't have to come if you don't want," she offered.

"Of course I do," the human answered. "I'm the Captain. More importantly," He smiled at Yvian's sister, "I'm Lissa's boyfriend."

"Good answer," said Lissa.

Half an hour later found the five of them in the cargo bay. Yvian had showed up wearing her Space Captain swimsuit, but Lissa made her go change into her Homestar Dress. Mims wore his Peacekeeper suit, as did Kilroy. Lissa was in her own Homestar dress, and Scarrend was in a black leather vest and skirt. Ten Peacekeepers stood at attention nearby, also dressed in unarmored versions of Peacekeeper attire. Another ten were on the bridge, ready to defend the ship.

"Alright," the Captain addressed the Peacekeepers, "you know the drill. We know the Federation want us, and we're gonna be unarmed out there. If you lose contact with us or Kilroy I need you to come running, but be careful. The humans know about you, and they've fought Peacekeepers before. They'll have countermeasures ready."

"Are you sure this is necessary?" asked Scarrend. "Even the humans wouldn't want to risk angering the Oluken."

"The High Commander personally stopped a strike team from showing up last time," said Mims. "Even though Exodus told them he'd genocide their asses if they kill us. If they're willing to ignore a threat from the Xill, I don't think they'd shy from an international incident." He shrugged. "That said, General Young did stop them, and the Oluken know about the whole thing. I doubt anyone's stupid enough to try again now that they're watching for it."

"Then why go through all this?" Scarrend gestured at the assembled Peacekeepers.

Mims shrugged again. "In case I'm wrong."

"Then why come ourselves at all?" Scarrend ran claws through his mane.

He tilted his head. "You went through the reading material, right?"

"Your human strategists? Yes." The Vrrl's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"What is the Fifth Law of Power?"

"So much depends on reputation," the Vrrl quoted. "Guard it with your life."

"We're the face of the Pixen Technocracy," Mims reminded him. "We can't afford to show fear." There was a thunk as the Encounter finished it's landing in the station's docking bay. "And like Machiavelli said, all courses of action are..."

“All courses of action are risky," Scarrend continued the quote thoughtfully, "so prudence is not in avoiding danger, but calculating risk and acting decisively."

"Calculated risk," said the human. "If we knew an attack was coming, if I was even reasonably sure, we could stay away and sick the Oluken on them. Right now the risk isn't high enough to justify the loss of reputation. The Federation would have to be fucking stupid to attack us on an Oluken station. These extra Peacekeepers are just here as insurance."

"I smell," Scarrend stroked his mane again. "Always have a backup plan."

"Now you're thinking like a Privateer," said the human. "Go over the material again. You've memorized it, which is good. Now you need to think on what it means. Learn to apply it in real life."

A trio of Oluken were waiting when they left the docking bay. Two Security Officers, and a med tech Yvian recognized. What was his name? No, her name. Durko?

"We are pleased you came on such short notice," said the medical technician. "My name is Durva."

"It's nice to meet you," said Mims. He attempted a smile. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a Durko Milnari, would you?"

"My sister." The Oluken's eyestalks bobbed in a pleasure. "Come this way. We will take you to see the patient."

The crew followed their escorts down the corridor. One of many corridors, Yvian was sure. She didn't know why the Oluken insisted on walking everywhere, but none of their stations seemed to have any form of fast transport. Yvian resigned herself to another long walk, then realized she'd have to walk just as far to get back to the ship. With Yasme. Crunch.

Yvian was wondering if she could get away with stuffing her former mother in a cryopod for the return trip when the station lights flickered. She looked up, then heard a loud clang behind her. It was Kilroy. He'd fallen over.

Mims asked something in the human language. She recognized the word "hell."

"The translators," said Lissa. "They're not working." Durza tried to say something, but her burbling speech was gibberish to Yvian.

"Shit." This time Mims said it in Pixen. "Anti-tech field."

"The humans." Scarrend growled.

"But how?" Yvian wondered. "We're the only ones with Lucendian tech."

"No we're not," said Mims. "The Xill have Blingy and the Crystal Mother. If they gave the Federation access..." His eyes shot up and down the corridor. "We've gotta get back to the ship."

"It's too late," said Scarrend. "They're coming."