The Privateer

Yvian let out a slow breath. She wanted to do that total focus thing Mims had taught her, but she didn't dare. Scarrend would pick up on it. She didn't want to panic the man. She needed to do this right. It was time to be a Captain.

The Medical Bay was pressurized. Most of the ship was, now. The holes the Enlightened had blown through the ship had been patched, but the armor had yet to be replaced. Yvian would see that done eventually, but getting the reactors replaced was a much higher priority. The Dream of the Lady couldn't do much with just Auxiliary power. After that the engines needed repair. Fixing the armor would be dead last. It's not like the stuff had done any good so far, anyway.

Yvian watched the med-pod finish its countdown. There was beep, followed by movement in the pod. The pod retracted, revealing Scarrend on a medical table. His armor was gone, but he was still wearing his leather kilt and vest.

The massive Vrrl sat up. He held his hands in front of himself, flexing his fingers. His claws extended and retracted. They had been reattached instead of regrown. It meant Scarrend had only had to spend fourteen hours in the pod, but Yvian didn't know if it would feel different. Apparently not, as a satisfied Scarrend hopped off the table. He gave Yvian a nod and a slow blink. "Captain."

Yvian hopped off the table she'd been sitting on. She grabbed a cooler off the table and handed it to Scarrend. "Here. I thought you'd be hungry." The Vrrl took the container. "It's just fish," Yvian told him. "I wasn't up to cutting up pieces of cloned human."

"It will do," said the Vrrl. He blinked slowly again. "I appreciate it."

The Vrrl opened the cooler and pulled out a salmon. Yvian pulled a beer out of the other cooler she'd brought with her. She let the monster eat in silence. When he was almost done she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Scarrend told her.

Yvian didn't speak. She just waited. Scarrend finished the last fish and sat in silence for a minute. Then he sighed. "I am the weakest member of this crew."

"What?" Yvian had known the Vrrl was having problems, but she hadn't known that was one of them. "Why?"

"When Kilroy went rogue..." Scarrend growled. "I was the slowest to react. You, Mims, even Lissa realized what was happening and tried to act before I did. When I did act, all I did was try to activate my own Dead Man's Switch. A useless move that was easily stopped."

Yvian nodded slowly, thinking. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

Scarrend looked at her sharply. "You're not going to deny it?"

Yvian shook her head. "There's no point. You'd know I was lying."

Scarrend grunted. "I smell."

"The truth is, you're not as experienced as the rest of us," Yvian continued. "We've all been with Mims longer, and you missed out on a lot of the big stuff. The Vore. The Xill. Lots of things. It means you're less paranoid, less ready for the unexpected." She folded her arms, thinking about yesterday. "Then again, you did save our lives with the MAC Cannon."

"A pittance," scoffed the Vrrl. "Any of you could have done the same."

"No we couldn't," Yvian disagreed. "Scarrend, you guessed the flight path of an enemy we just met, calculated the timing and trajectory of forty MAC rounds, and fired with perfect accuracy all in the space of a few seconds. You hit the Enlightened two seconds before it killed us all. I couldn't have done it. I don't think even Mims could've done it. You're the only that could." She frowned. "Well. You and Kilroy."

Scarrend grunted again. "Perhaps."

"We've all got different strengths and weaknesses, Scarrend." Yvian continued. "We cover each other. That's what being a crew means."

"It's not a matter of diversity," said the Vrrl. "I am not worried there is no place for me here. I am upset that I am the least useful among you. That I deserve the lowest Hsst."

"Technically," Yvian told him, "that would be me."

"Nonsense," said Scarrend. "You are the Captain."

"Because it's my ship," said Yvian. "Not because I'm the most qualified. Look at me from the standards of your people." Yvian finished her beer before she continued. "I'm the worst pilot, the worst diplomat, and the second worst fighter. I've got no engineering skills at all, and my computer skills are useless outside of the Confederation. By Vrrl standards I'm the lowest Hsst. I should be scrubbing toilets. Mims should be in charge." Yvian reconsidered as she pulled out another beer. "Actually, no. By Vrrl standards it should be Kilroy."

"Affirmative," the Peacekeeper unit said over the comms. "This unit is superior."

"Shut up, Kilroy!" Yvian yelled. "Illusion of privacy, remember?"

Scarrend gave the pixen a considering look. "You seem surprisingly comfortable admitting such things."

"It's about context." Yvian shrugged. "On this ship, I'm the worst pilot. Anywhere else? I'm unstoppable." Yvian took another swig. "I can outfly most Vrrl. Most humans, even. The same goes for fighting. I suck at diplomacy and engineering, but when it comes to combat I'm the deadliest pixen alive. I am wildly capable." She gestured with her bottle. "It just doesn't seem like it compared to the rest of the crew. Mims wasn't exaggerating when he said we're the best."

"The best?" Scarrend growled. "Yes. That is the problem."

Before Yvian could ask what he meant, the lights went out. All the lights. The steady hum of the ship ceased. "What the?"

"An attack?" Scarrend wondered.

The darkness was total, but that was less concerning than the silence of the ship. Yvian fumbled with her wrist console until the display activated. A new sound thrummed through the Dream of the Lady as she pulled up the comm menu. Higher pitched. Familiar, but Yvian couldn't quite place it. Her heart was hammering by the time she managed to activate the internal comms. "Mims, it's Yvian. What the Crunch is going on?"

"Nothing to worry about," the human replied. He sounded relaxed, but that didn't mean anything with Mims. The lights in the med-bay came back on as he spoke. The ship resumed it's usual hum. "Just had to reroute power for a minute."

"Reroute power to where?" Yvian demanded. "For what?"

"Beam Cannon."

"We're shooting at someone!?" Yvian's fear was now threaded with anger. "Why didn't you comm me?"

"Because you said not to interrupt unless there's an emergency." Yvian could almost hear the human shrug.

"How is active combat not an emergency?" The fear was receding, but the anger got bigger.

"The ship's not in danger yet," Mims explained. "No danger, no emergency."

Yvian took a breath through her nose. In a dangerously quite voice she ordered, "Explain. Now."

"Aye Captain," said the human. "The Vronin J sent a warship. Big one. It was ninety thousand kilometers out and coming in fast. Kilroy hasn't figured out their language yet."

"This unit is superior," Kilroy cut in. "This unit is not magic."

"Wasn't a complaint, Kilroy," Mims informed the machine. "Anyway, we can't talk to them, and we can't risk a warship getting too close while we're defenseless. So we decided to communicate non-verbally."

"By shooting them," Yvian noticed her fists had clenched.

"By shooting them," the human confirmed. "Politely. It was a warning shot."

"We only shot them for a couple seconds," Lissa chimed in. "Their shields can take it."

"And what are we going to do when they shoot back?" The Captain demanded. The Dream needed all of her power to fire a Beam Cannon for a few seconds. She couldn't raise her shields at all.

"That would make it an emergency, Captain," Mims reasoned. "I guess we'd need you on the bridge."

Yvian's jaw clenched. She firmly resisted the urge to scream at the man.

"That's not what they're doing, though," the human continued. "They've backed off."

"Are they leaving?" Yvian asked. Her teeth were not quite grinding.

"No," said Mims. "They're coming to a stop relative to our position. About eighty thousand kilometers off."

Yvian took another breath, calming down a little. "Did you send the First Contact Package?"

"A couple hours ago," the human confirmed. "When we were sure they were heading our way."

The First Contact Package was a message the Peacekeepers had designed. A collection of words and images in a variety of formats. It was designed to help a new species learn Yvian's language and explain the Pixen Technocracy. It had taken the Enlightened only seconds to learn Yvian's speech, but most species would need a lot longer. The Vronin J seemed pretty advanced. Better than the Confed, maybe as tech savvy as the Vrrl or the Federation. It would probably take them a week. Kilroy would learn their language much faster, but the Package should give the Vronin J something to chew on until the Peacekeeper unit came through.

"You still should have told me," Yvian chided.

"Then you shouldn't have ordered-" Mims coughed. "I mean, aye Captain. I'll remember that for the future."

Yvian frowned. She had ordered Mims to take over the bridge. She did tell him not to interrupt her unless it was an emergency. Now that she'd calmed down a little, she had to admit the human had a point. "No, you're right." Yvian sighed. "I did specify only emergencies. Lend me your forgiveness, Mims. I should have thought that through a little better."

"Forgiveness is lent," said the human. "Everything's copacetic, Captain. You can go back to doing Captainy things."

"Ok," said Yvian. "Comm me if there's... Wait a minute..."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Yvian voiced her suspicion. "So you can be in charge a little longer?"

"Could be." The human was shrugging again. Yvian was sure of it. "I do like being in charge."

"He also likes being alone with his girlfriend," Lissa added with a giggle.

Yvian glowered. "No making out on the bridge."

"Of course not," Lissa huffed.

"We're professionals," said Mims.

"This unit will monitor their behavior," Kilroy helpfully promised.

Yvian smiled in spite of herself, but she managed not to laugh. "See that you don't. And comm me if anything interesting happens."

"Aye Captain," Mims agreed. "Mims out."

Scarrend was staring at her, confusion in all three of his eyes. "You ordered them not to interrupt." Two of his hands ran through his mane. "So you could talk to me?"

"We're friends," she told him. "You're important to me."

"I smell." The Vrrl closed his eyes very slowly. He held them closed for two seconds before opening them again. "You are important to me as well."

Yvian gave him a smile. "So what were you saying? About being the best being the problem?"

"It's... complicated." The Vrrl was silent for a moment, thinking. "You said you were the most dangerous of your species, did you not?"

"I did," Yvian confirmed.

"I am among the most dangerous of mine." Scarrend flexed one of his claws. "Trained by Scargiver Mims to be the deadliest warrior in the Empire. Only Warmaster Scathach himself is a match for me in direct combat."

"Ok," Yvian nodded. "Why's that bad?"

"Because I am the least dangerous being on this ship," growled the Vrrl. "Even Lissa has proven more capable than I am. If I'm the best of my species, what does that say about the Empire?"

"Oh." Yvian hadn't though of it like that. "Shit."

"Shit," Scarrend agreed. "We have so much pride. We tell ourselves we're the Apex. But we're not. Being less than the humans was bad enough, but now even pixens can be our betters?" He frowned. "No offense."

"None taken."

"The Gods told us we were born to stand at the Apex," Scarrend continued. "That we were the strongest that was or would be. I... believed that. For a long time."

"The Varma may have called themselves gods," Yvian told him, "but they were people. Like us. They made mistakes. If they were real gods your ancestors couldn't have eaten them."

Scarrend grimaced and continued. "The Warmaster knew. He knew we weren't strong enough. It's why he pushed the Scargiver to take me. Train me. And it worked." He slumped, squatting down on his haunches. "Or at least, I thought it did. I'm stronger now than I've ever been, and yet..." He put his head in his upper set of hands. "It's not enough." His voice broke. "We're not the Apex. We're not even close."

Yvian stared. She'd never seen a Vrrl cry. She hadn't known that they could. Scarrend hadn't shown this kind of emotion ever. Not even at the death of his mate. She didn't know what to do.

Should she hug him? Hold him and let him cry? That's what Lissa would do. Yvian wasn't sure Scarrend would let her. The Vrrl despised weakness, especially in front of others. He might take her tenderness as pity. He could lash out, or it might just make him cry harder.

Mims was as emotionally inept as Yvian. He'd try to snap Scarrend out of it. Say something wise, maybe. Find a way to fix the problem. Yvian didn't how to do that. She wasn't as old as Mims. Wasn't as smart.

Maybe she should call the human? Ask for help? Yvian rejected the idea immediately. Scarrend would be embarrassed enough that he was crying. If she called someone else in he would never forgive her.

So she watched, thinking furiously. Why was this so important to Scarrend? Why did he care so much about being the most lethal predator in the void? Why would a genetically engineered killing machine cry for his people so?

The answer hit Yvian like a MAC round. It was because the Vrrl were broken. Broken as Pixa had been. The Varma had engineered them to be slaves. They'd used them and thrown them away. They'd brainwashed the Vrrl as they did so. Worse than brainwashed. Scarrend's people had been genetically programmed to see the Varma as infallible gods. Very few Vrrl ever managed to overcome that programming. Scarrend had not been one of them, but now he was starting to see.

What would it be like? Yvian wondered. Yvian had known her whole life that her people were broken. Pixens had been slaves in all but name. No home. No safety. No hope. Forced to live scared lives in poverty, selling their bodies in a desperate attempt to avoid the debts that herald true slavery. Dreading the day they'd be taken.

Yvian had changed all that. With Lissa and Mims, she'd found them a world. Found Kilroy and the Peacekeepers. She'd risked and given everything so her people would have a chance. It was an impossible dream, and she'd made it real. Scarrend and Warmaster Scathach had been trying to do something similar.

What if she'd failed? What if, after everything, the pixens went back to being helpless refugees? What if Yvian had to go back to the Pleasure Guilds, knowing she'd tried her best and her best wasn't good enough? That there truly was no hope? The thought filled her with horror. Yvian would never stop weeping. She would cry and wail and wallow in despair. Then she would kill herself. She wouldn't even wait for the Bright Lady to judge her. She'd cast herself into The Crunch, to be crushed in shame and darkness for all time.

That's what Scarrend was feeling. Absolute despair. What comfort could Yvian possibly give in the face of such a thing? Her support and her empathy were nothing against such a loss. It would be like patting someone on the head after they lost all their limbs. No help at all.

The Vrrl was still sobbing. Yvian felt her own eyes tearing up. She shut them, forced herself to breathe, worked the exercises Mims had taught. Scarrend didn't need sympathy. Scarrend needed hope. Yvian focused, searching for that hope. To her surprise, she came up with something.

"Talent," she told him, "and training."

"What?" Scarrend sniffled.

"Talent and training," Yvian repeated. "I'm not talented, but I'm the second best pilot in my species. That's because Mims trained me. With enough training, someone mediocre can become competent. I'm second best because Lissa's had the same training, and she's more talented than me."

"I don't understand," said the Vrrl.

"Talent is how naturally good you are," Yvian explained. "How easy it is to learn a skill. The more talented you are, the faster you learn and the farther you can take it. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be as good a flyer as Lissa or Mims. Not as long as they keep training. But if I work hard enough, I'll be better than the people who don't train no matter how talented they are."

"What does that have to do with me?" asked the Vrrl.

"The Vrrl are the most talented species I've ever seen," Yvian told him. "You can lift eight hundred kilograms. Your reflexes are faster. You've all got genius level intelligence, and you can learn how to do almost anything by seeing it once. The problem..." Yvian grimaced. She was gonna need another beer for this. "The problem is how you've been trained."

"I've been trained by the Scargiver," Scarrend pointed out.

"I'm not talking about Mims," Yvian told him. "I'm talking about the first Mafdets. Scathach told me about them ."

The Mafdets were the Vrrl version of an education. The first three were taught while the Vrrl were very young. Yvian didn't know how many Mafdets there were, but she did know that very few Vrrl reached the Sixth. The requirement for the Sixth Mafdet was a rejection of the Varma.

"You're taught at an early age not to ask questions. To accept the way things are." Yvian took another drink. "You're taught that you don't need to practice, that you're already as good as you need to be. That you're the Apex, and you don't have to work for it."

Scarrend raised his head, considering. "The first three Mafdets were laid down by the gods."

"I know." Yvian chugged some more alcohol before saying, "They trained you wrong on purpose. It's a joke."

Scarrend growled. "The gods wouldn't do that."

"Why not?" asked Yvian. "I'm pretty sure they didn't expect to be eaten. As long as the Varma were around to lead, they didn't need you to think for yourselves. They didn't need you to learn or grow. Why would they risk being questioned by their creations?"

"Because they were the gods," Scarrend insisted. "They loved us."

"Maybe they did," Yvian acknowledged. She knew it wasn't so, but she'd pushed as far as she dared. "Maybe they had a plan we don't know about. I don't know. But I do know the original Mafdets are wrong for the Vrrl. Or at least, wrong for them, now. Look at what they say, verses what Mims taught you."

Scarrend was silent. Yvian let him think. He let out a frustrated growl. "You may have a point."

Yvian wanted to press the issue a little further, but she restrained herself. As much as she'd like her friend to reach the Sixth Mafdet, this probably wasn't a good time to inflict another existential crisis on the man. "Talent and training," she said one more time. "The Vrrl have all the talent. Enough to surpass me or the humans or maybe even the Peacekeepers."

"Unlikely," Kilroy interrupted on the comms.

"Shut the fuck up, Kilroy!" Yvian screamed at the machine. "If you interrupt this conversation again I'll throw you out a fucking airlock!" She had no idea how she could make good on that threat, but she'd do her damnedest to find a way.

"Affirmative," said the unit. His tone was contrite. "Sorry, Captain Mother Yvian."

Yvian glared at the nearest bulkhead in the general direction of the reactor room for a few seconds before continuing. "No one's born at the Apex, Scarrend. You have to work to be the best." She set her beer down. "Some species, some people will never be the best no matter how hard they try. I'm one of them. You've been training for barely a year and you're already better than me."

"You judge yourself to harshly, Captain," Scarrend told her. "You're hardly a softpaw."

"I already told you I'm not ashamed," Yvian chided. "It's an honest assessment of my limitations, and I've done a lot with what I have. And that's the point. Your species hasn't learned to do enough with what they've got. You were right, earlier. The Vrrl are not the Apex. They never were." She leaned closer to Scarrend, meeting his eyes. "But that doesn't mean you never will be. You've got the potential. You just need the time and the means to use it."

"The time and the means..." Scarrend held her gaze, eyes wide. He took a shuddering breath through his mouth and let it out through his nostrils. "I think I owe you an apology."

Yvian blinked. "What?"

"I didn't want you to be Captain," the Vrrl admitted. "I argued for the Scargiver to take your place."

"Oh."

"Mims told me you were worthy," Scarrend continued, "but I did not believe him. I only agreed to follow you because he asked it of me." He shook his head. "The Scargiver was right once again. If I had not sworn my life to him, I would swear it to you right now."

"Oh." Yvian felt her face flush. She was not prepared for that level of positive reinforcement. She rubbed the back of her neck. "You're already on the crew, Scarrend. You don't have to flatter me."

"A joke to cover embarrassment." Scarrend harrumphed. "You are more like the Scargiver than I knew. Do you not understand what you've given me?" His voice cracked again. "My people aren't the Apex." He grabbed Yvian with all four arms. She almost shot him. The Vrrl buried his head into Yvian's abdomen, sobbing. "But we will be. We will be."

He cried for a long time. Yvian held him. When he finally cried himself out, Scarrend rubbed his cheek against Yvian's. Then he stood, hands clasped behind his back. "Thank you, Captain. What are your orders?"

Captain Yvian smiled. "Why don't you meet Kilroy in the reactor room? The sooner we get the replacements assembled the better."

Scarrend lifted his leather vest, revealing his belly. He thrust it towards his Captain, a symbol of submission and respect reserved for only the most well regarded leaders among the Vrrl. "Aye Captain. It will be done."

Yvian watched him leave. She eyed the cooler. She'd already had three beers. One more and she wouldn't be fit to command. Crunch, she wasn't sure she was fit now. She felt steady enough, but her reaction time was definitely slowed. She closed the cooler with a sigh.

Kilroy's voice filtered in through the comms. "Captain Mother Yvian? May this unit speak?"

"Go ahead, Kilroy."

"Big Daddy Mims and Mother Lissa are kissing on the bridge."

Captain Yvian laughed. "Thank you, Kilroy." She commed the human. "Mims, this is Yvian."

"Yes Captain?"

Yvian forced down her smile and tried for a stern tone. "Stop kissing my sister and get your ass to the kitchen. You like being in charge? Go be in charge of lunch."