Pioneers: Creation

Weywon Nowhere

Weywon Nowhere


eight years earlier...


         “So what’s comin’ in this time?” Odesky asked, the Nindathu’s ears quivering in curiosity.  It was an annoying habit he didn’t even know he had.  That and talking too much.


         “No idea, but it better not be more troops,” the man beside him, Riley, replied.  This one was a small Midollonian, as green as Odesky but with a little more wit to him, not to mention a mean, lazy streak behind him.


         “Yeah.  Fuck that, man.  They’re stringing out our supplies enough.  Last thing we need is some ‘ore damn greens taking the last o’ the food.  Not that liquid roast beef is that good...”


         “That’s assuming you aren’t green, Odesky.  You were the 12th transport coming into Weywon,” a new man joined in, Pensey.  Pensey was a Frentan, small like one and quick like one.  He’d been on Weywon the longest of the group and knew the rules, unspoken or not, like the back of his hand.  One of many reasons he had his nickname.


         “Fuck you, Pansy.”


         “Get wet dreams of that often, I hear,” Pensey said with a smile.  “Anyway, it’s supplies.  You two might not know this being new and all, but they’re pretty precise on when they bring in supplies.  Isn’t that right Tamaki?”


         “Every six months,” Kenshi agreed.  Riley sniggered.


         “Yeah.  Tamaki’s got it down.  That’s when he gets his piece of ass,” Riley said and Odesky barked out something that sounded strangely like a giggle.


         “That’s right.  Lil’ miss supply girl always givin’ you somethin’ extra.  Maybe she’ll go for a real man this time,” Odesky said, puffing out his chest.


         “Or a woman.  Anything’s better than something like you,” Riley said to Kenshi with a grin.  They all got the meaning of that.


         “Knock that shit off, Riley, or sooner or later you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of the hull.  And not by Tamaki’s doing.  He’s been here in the middle of nowhere a lot longer than you,” Pensey said.


         “Sure.    But why don’t you let Red, here, speak for himself?  ‘cause he got a bad deal in the brains department, I’d say.  I wonder what big dumb animals do when something smarter and more dangerous comes along,” Riley said, making eye contact with Kenshi.


         “How smart can the mouse be when he thinks he’s more dangerous than the wolf?” Kenshi replied.  They kept eye contact for another few seconds before Riley looked away.  Kenshi smirked sardonically.  ‘The less intelligent animal naturally looks away first, as if embarrassed by it’s smaller intellect,’ he remembered humorously.  Odesky laughed nervously while Pensey grinned like a proud mother.


         Next to them a metallic thud sounded on the hull’s blast door and a beeping alerted the group someone wanted to come inside.  Pensey moved to open it while the trio stepped up beside him.  Pulling down a lever, the blast doors slowly opened revealing four figures.


         “About damn time,” the familiar and ever welcome sight of the supply ship captain, Captain Westerly, said gruffly.  The tall Midollonian ran his fingers through graying hair before throwing an officer’s cap over his head.  “Which one of you boys is showing me to my quarters?  I just spent three days sleeping on iron and I feel like sitting on some cotton.”  Riley saluted.  Kiss-ass coward.


         “Follow me, sir.”


         “Got a stick in them breeches boy?  Hn.  Tamaki, you better take Hendack away quick.  I’d swear she was going to bang Rowdy any time and I don’t want any messes on my ship,” Westerly said and started walking forward, Riley running to catch up.  Still inside the ship a monstrous Barcuch, Rowdy, stood grinning cheesily at the trio while a lithe woman leaning against a crate, Hendack, scoffed up at him.  Behind the pair a small man, part Frentan and part small, pale Luegarnian, Estics, checked off a list on a datapad.  The woman looked over to Kenshi and smiled.


         “Long time no see, Terran.”


         “Miss me, Rittu?”


         “Not so much you as pieces of you.”


         “I’m not so picky.”  She grinned seductively and shoved off the crate.  Swaying up to him she took his arm in her small hand.


         “You heard the Captain, my Kenshi.  We can’t make a mess in here.”


         “A good thing I cleaned out your room then.”  Kyrie Hendack’s smile grew and she squeezed his arm lightly before dragging him off.  Behind them Pensey smirked, Odesky gaped and Rowdy pouted.


         “One more day,” the Barcuch said to the pair in a heavy accent.  “One more day and she would know a real man.”


         “Bullshit,” Odesky said lightly.


         “This is true,” Rowdy replied.  And with that the group set out to work.


-------------------------


         Captain Dondarrion liked to think of himself as a good commander.  He kept a tight base with good, if somewhat lax, security.  He made sure all schedules were kept to the closest minute and he was lenient enough with the troops to not get any major and few minor dissenters within the ranks.  Of course there were the occasional clashes with the various scientists within the base, but orders were clear: keep the research safe, do not ask questions about the research, do not go into the research area and do not impose any authority on the scientists unless it conflicts with the first order.


         It only took a couple months for the scientists to become bold enough to create some real conflicts among the ranks, but a quick talk to either side closed up much of the tension and a few stray warnings kept it that way.  Anything nearing a fight and a grunt would get a few odd shifts or a scientist would be working without food for a day.  On the other side of the coin, Dondarrion had pulled a few deals and occasionally got in a few extras in with the normal supplies.  People used good behavior and they might get alcohol or some bacon.  Some of the better ones might get a less lumpy mattress or a warmer blanket to sleep on, but few earned such privileges.  Still, it kept most everyone in order.


         Everyone but Dr. Renly Davies.


         “From all reports given you started this fight, am I correct?”  Davies sat across from the oak desk, grin in place beneath a red and purple nose and one very black eye.  Other than the two recent flaws Davies would otherwise be quite handsome, his tanned Septonian - a race closely related to the Makar, the first humans - features and thick, well-styled brown locks making sure of that.


         “Do you really need to ask?  Of course I did, Aldewich,” the researcher said using Dondarrion’s first name.  The scientist was casually dressed, as usual.  From the commander’s understanding he didn’t even wear his whites in the lab.  The young man was a genius, but uncontrollable.


         “Davies, I’m tired of seeing you in here...”


         “Then I guess I shouldn’t come.  Not like I have to,” he interrupted.  Dondarrion grit his teeth.


         “I starve you and you take another’s meal.  I take away your quarters, you sleep in someone else’s.  This has gone on long enough.  Corporal Lewick had every right to his own property.”


         “Yes, principle.  I’m sorry.  But I thought sharing was a good virtue and he could at least have given me one bottle.  At least all my friends are willing to share their food,” Davies recited sarcastically and the Captain felt blood rush to his face.


         “You think I have no power over you.  You’re wrong.  From now on you’re restricted to the lab.  You no longer have access to this military base.”  Davies gaped at him, his tan features suddenly looking a little whiter.  “Let your friends continue to feed you their extra rations.  No matter.  I hear our cook is starting to figure out how much each of them consumes and is adjusting meals accordingly.  It should save us some money.  Sleep on exam tables.  Shower with whatever safety devices you have in that lab of yours.  It’s no matter to me, but this being a classified military installation and you having your clearance taken, you will be killed on sight should you step out of the lab.  We’ll see how many of my men will question that order.”


         “You...you can’t do that!”


         “It is done.”  It was untrue.  Davies had clearance for the station, was very valuable and Dondarrion held no real authority over the man.  No brass would give clearance for such a thing, but that didn’t mean the Captain couldn’t bluff.  A good commander knew when to trick his/her opponent.


         “Give me another chance!  No more fights, I promise.”  Dondarrion rubbed his chin thoughtfully in an elaborate act.


         “Hmm...  I’ll tell you what.  Three days in the lab then I’ll give you back your clearance.  Then no more fights.”  The scientist let out a long breath.


         “Ok.  Thank you,” Davies said, visibly relieved.  Then the grin came back and he snatched up Dondarrion’s uniform cap.  “This is a nice hat.  Hope you don’t mind me taking it, Aldewich.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go play poker with some of the guys down in the mess hall.”  Putting the cap on, tilting it slightly and turning tail, Davies walked out of the room with a fuming Captain Dondarrion helpless but to merely watch him go.


-------------------------


         Poker in the mess hall, sex in the private rooms, poker and sex in the barracks, janitors and technicians in the corridors and a few people pulling in crates from the supply ship.  Of course there was one more group to tie it all together: the poor sons of bitches that made enough trouble to pull security watch.


         “Looks like a problem with the camera in room...17B.  It’s all black,” Penmeyer said boredly.  The short Frentan looked right goofy with a buzz cut on his uneven head and eyes too close together.  Not that he himself was much of a step up.  Carrol knew he wasn’t the most handsome man, but at least the Rittu didn’t look like he was about to say the most stupid things every time he opened his mouth.  Carrol glanced at the screen and looked back at probably the only man in the room doing what he was supposed to.


         “Fuck, man, that’s just another couple doin’ the rabbit dance.  Someone in there knew where the camera was.”


         “Someone should tell them to keep it uncovered.  You never know what...”


         “You Dondarrion’s fuckin’ pet?” Vriess piped in, by far the ugliest grunt to hit the station yet.  He was a mixed breed and the mixes didn’t go well together.  In the end he looked like a red-headed anorexic monkey.  “It’s just a couple people wanting to get some without us watching.  You wanna watch porn so much go look at the other screens.  ‘nuff horny bastards around here to satisfy anyone.”  Carrol laughed at that.


         “You’re planning to make money off it, aren’t you?”  Vriess snorted.


         “Fuck yeah.  Look at ‘em all.  Fuckin’ animals.”


         “Now wait just one second,” Penmeyer spoke up again.


         “Shove it, Knob,” Vriess said using the other grunt’s much hated nickname.  “Not like there’s any harm to it.”  Penmeyer bit his lip and looked away.


         Silence washed over the trio as had been the usual the past four hours.  Four hours to go then the shift was over and a nice eight hour break started.  Then four more shifts after that.


         ‘Vriess and his fucking ideas,’ Carrol thought angrily to himself.  ‘Last time I listen to a monkey on how to get a better meal.’


-------------------------


         “How long can you stay?” Kyrie asked, pulling up the blankets to cover themselves.


         “16 hours,” Kenshi replied.  “When do you shove off?”


         “12 hours.  Enough time for sleep and a meal, so the Captain says.”  She pulled herself up his body enough to rest her head on the pillow beside him, her recently lubricated skin rubbing smoothly against his own while her nipples scratched lightly against his chest.  “Are you still coming to Koskov?”


         “Next relief ship in three months.  Paperwork’s all done.”  Kyrie closed her eyes and sighed deeply.


         “Good,” she murmured sleepily.  It was only moments before her breaths evened out and Kenshi lazily threw an arm around her waist and smiled slightly.


         Soon this would be all over.  No fringe research base with bad food and nothing to do.  No thoughts of being some great soldier.  No thoughts of Earth.  The dreams of being another grunt, elite or whatever, were over.  Gone with this transfer.  Maybe even sooner.  Gone with Mavys.


         The name brought a scowl to his face, but any thoughts of the man quickly disappeared when Kyrie shifted slightly over him.  A new, better life on Koskov.  One in which she would be joining him two months after he arrived.  He would become an assistant instructor, she would be a local supply pilot running jobs around Midolloni instead of the hefty jaunts across half the galaxy.  Not the best life, but better than he’d dreamed of imagining in a long time.


         Looking around the room, Kenshi took in everything.  The clothes thrown about randomly, the carefully positioned shirt covering the hidden camera, the cheap plastic and steel which made up nearly everything, the spartan furnishing including only the bed he lay on, a nightstand with a digital alarm clock, a steel dresser for longer visitors painted thinly only to make sure it didn’t rust, the scratchy thermal blanket that covered them and the warm tan body that covered his own under the covers.


         Smiling and lying his head back, Kenshi fell quickly into a dreamless sleep, happier than he could remember in a long time.





-------------------------


         The mess hall was full of life, as it always was during the day.  Some were there for food, true enough, but the lure was really the fun of it all.  Weywon didn’t get signals for radio or hv.  Most games weren’t provided and were seen as a distraction which would make the station less efficient.  Proof Dondarrion didn’t know shit about commanding.  So instead it was left to the people aboard the station to make their own fun without providing too much “distraction”.


         Needless to say, Weywon became one of the greatest training grounds for gamblers and a nice wallet-filler for varying birth/STD control companies.  Men came horny little boys and left either as desperate horny boys, experienced horny men or newfound homosexuals.  Women came as whatever and left as sluts, prostitutes, iron-willed bitches or, in a couple unfortunate cases, shivering, scared little girls.  All left with gambling problems.  Some just had heavier pockets than others.


         But the mess hall wasn’t a place for sex.  It was a sort of unspoken rule that fluids shouldn’t be exchanged near the food everyone ate.  The gambling was always around, however.  A deck of cards was always present, and a wad of cash not too far from it.  Weywon stationed 150 soldiers and 50 scientists, give or take a few, at any one time.  Between them tournaments were held weekly and games every instance between.  Those in the mess hall not playing were watching, save maybe two or three people just trying for a quick meal before duty called.  Fortunately, in fringe stations like this, duty didn’t call too often and most people were left to their own devices for most of the time.


         Renly grinned widely behind his hand of cards, the expression not having left his face since they were dealt.  Fanned out in front of him four other men sat, all grunts and only one woman.  Around the group sat or stood another ten men watching curiously.  Any of them could be cheating, but Renly wasn’t too worried about it.  People caught cheating weren’t invited into many games around here.  Didn’t keep them from chatting randomly, however.  In the center of the group sat a wrinkled pile of money grown up to $200.  The players looked unhappy, all but one man who managed to keep any emotions or internal struggles from surfacing.  Berstov was the only other gambling vet of the group.


         “I fold,” one man finally said, a newer recruit Renly didn’t care to remember the name of.  He was a bad player, and that’s all that mattered.  He set his cards onto the table and sat back to observe the others.


         “Same here,” the woman this time.  She was in the process of becoming one of the stations sadly few sex distributors, though whether she would end up whoring was another debate altogether.  Didn’t have the looks for it, her Tymorian parentage assured that much due to the abundance of fat, olive green skin and lack of ears or nose.  But when did looks count on Weywon?


         Berstov and the other stayed quiet, waving their hands in silent check.


         “Gentlemen, I’ll raise you $30,” Davies said, the grin never leaving his face as he threw more money into the pot.  Berstov counted quickly from his own stash.


         “I’ll see that,” was all he said.  He wasn’t going to back down, Renly knew right away.  Question was: did he have something better than a high two pair?


         “I’ll see your $30 and raise you $10,” the last man said.  This guy also didn’t know how to play the game.  Got nervous whenever he tried to bluff and his face always turned red, not to mention the perspiration problem.  He was very red at the moment.  And near broke.  Sucker.


         “I’ll see that and raise you $15,” Renly spoke.  The man didn’t reply.  He just laid the cards down.  Berstov, on the other hand was throwing the money in.  “Shall we lay down our cards?”  Berstov’s gaunt face finally matched his grin.


         “But of course.”  Both laid down at the same time.  Three of a kind.  Lucky bastard.  Murmurs went up between the idle chatter as Berstov raked in the cash and Renly finally let his grin relax.


         “It seems you are the luckier man today, my friend.”  The tall Midollonian shrugged.


         “You win some you lose some.  You in for another hand?”


         “Nah.  Good player knows when to lay in his hand for the day.  I’ll win it back tomorrow.”


         “Pfft.  Yeah right.”


         With that, Davies pulled up from the table and walked out of the room.  He was due to check in the lab in two hours and he wanted part of Weywon’s more fun activity before work.


         ‘Merys or Redrick...  The choices one must make in life,’ he thought, walking down the long corridors toward the barracks.  He hated the barracks.  It had the same gambling as the mess hall but with the fervent sex included.  Made for a distraction, a bad stench and reminded him of the vast loss of any privacy aboard the ship.


         Entering the barracks showed just what he expected.  There were two small games going on, three heterosexual combinations, two homosexual combinations - between men, unfortunately - and only one of the straight combos was hidden completely under the covers.  Renly took a quick glance around, saw Merys and Redrick were busy, let his shoulders sag and walked out again.


         ‘Stuck between activities.  Wonderful,’ he thought boredly.  ‘Ah well.  Maybe I can catch something new in the supplies.’  Direction in mind, Renly set off once more.


-------------------------


         “Taber, would you quit shittin’ around and hand me the damn wrench.”  The call was a familiar one down the corridors of Weywon.  Jules and Taber.  The bird and the albino.  The battleaxe and the pussy.  The nicknames went on and on.


         “Sorry, Jules.  Which one do you want?” the Decan asked with wide, pink eyes.  If ever there was a stereotype of a race, Taber was it.  Decan were perhaps the weakest of the humans, said to be some kind of freakish genetic offspring of albinos.  Taber had the pale skin and the lighter eyes, definitely, though the brown hair disrupted the albino image.  But the sheer lack of any strength is what defined the man.  He had no strength of will and little muscle mass.


         “Just hand me that...er...bent one with the round end.”  Jules was like an opposite.  While he was from the Comanton, an avariel-human splice mix known to be fairly weak, he acted as anything but.  Jules was stronger than he had right to be and had more spine than anyone had right to.  And he used it more than he had right to, as well.  The rare green feathers covering his back always seemed raised and ruffled and his native odd, long, pale face always red in anger.


         “The lug wrench, Jules?”


         “Yes, yes.  The lug wrench.  What did you think I meant?”


         “Well, there is the...”


         “Just give me the damn wrench, Taber,” Jules said quickly, leaning down from his place on a step ladder to snatch it away.  A second later he had his head and most of his arm buried in the open panel of the ceiling where a light had been minutes before.


         “This is the wrong wrench, Taber!” Jules voice called out angrily, muffled slightly through the ceiling.  Taber already had the right wrench available.  Strong-willed Jules was.  A mechanic he was not.


         “Here you go, Jules,” Taber said as he handed the adjustable ratchet wrench up.  Jules mumbled something incomprehensible, dropped the lug wrench and started going to work with his new tool.


         “‘bout damn time you did something right,” the Comanton muttered just loud enough to hear.  Taber smiled proudly at that.  Such comments were as close to compliments as Jules ever gave.


         The smile was lost, however, when Jules shrieked loudly and kicked his legs out this way and that.  A moment later he fell to the floor, feathers smoldering lightly.


         “Jules!  Are you ok?!”


         “Of course you albino twit!” he said, getting up and dusting himself off.  “Light’s fixed,” he announced almost cheerfully.  That said he climbed up the ladder once more and slid the light and panel back into place, the light promptly turning on.  “Alright.  How many more to go?”  Taber glanced down at the list.


         “22 more, Jules.”  The battleaxe sighed deeply and climbed down the ladder.


         “Pack up the tools, then.  We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”


-------------------------


         Riley had made his way slowly back to the supply ship after escorting Captain Westerly.  To hell if he wanted to spend half the day swapping boxes and digging through them, but that seemed to be his lot in life for the time being.  No one ever said he couldn’t be lazy while doing it, however.


         Turning a corner he caught sight of the supply ship crew, minus the gruff and annoying Captain and the Hendack girl, and the grunts he’d been with just over two hours earlier, minus Tamaki.  He was silently relieved with the last one.


         ‘Fuckin’ Terrans think they have a place.’


         “Riley!  The hell took you so long?” Odesky called over, the first to notice him.  The others all turned to look at him.


         “Yeah.  What the hell is wrong with you?  Doesn’t take two hours to show a man his room,” Pensey piped in.  Always the prick.


         “Hour and a half, you mean.  And as long as you don’t have rank you got nothin’ on me so shut the fuck up, Pansy.”


         “This one believes you have too much bad talk for one so small.  Especially when talking to one’s allies,” the huge Barcuch said with a frown.  A smile quickly replaced it, however.  “Fortunately this one does have rank.  Get to work angry one,” he said in a voice much less authoritative than it was probably meant to sound.  Odd considering how deep it was.


         “Fuckin’ navy,” he muttered quietly.  Odesky snorted out his strange giggle thing and the others quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise they ignored him and got back to work.  Riley made himself useful stacking as many small boxes as he could into the carts, only taking something larger when Rowdy’s frown deepened too much for his liking.


         Another hour later and they were driving three carts down the wider corridors to the various supply rooms.  Food went into the large freezers, machine parts into engineering’s disorganized room and the rest went to office supply.  It was when they were mostly finished that the ever famous Davies came around, fairly fresh bruises marring his face.


         “So what have our friends in the center of the universe brought us today?” he asked as greeting.  “Something fun, I hope.  Or tasty.”


         “The scientist man is looking for the beer again, yes?” Rowdy asked with a smile.


         “Among other things...”


         “Fear not, little one.  This one remembers the promises made.”  The barchuch reached down deep into a luggage bag he’d thrown onto a carrier cart and came up with a six pack of sweet amber.


         “I had forgotten,” Davies said thoughtfully.  He took the pack and smiled up at the beast before him.  “Have anything else I might like in that bag?”


         “But of course.  This one carries many good things with him.  But none for you.”


         “Oh well.  Guess the beer’s good enough for now.  Maybe I can get one of the chastity maidens in the lab to “share” it with me.  Heheh.”


         “Wait,” Estics spoke up for the first time.  The guy was a real geek.  The type of pencil pusher who never talked, just worked.  Plus he had one of those really grating voices, the kind that frays the nerves with only a word.  “You didn’t steal that from the supplies, did you?  The Captain will be very upset if my estimates are wrong!  You know that Rowdy!  And he hates when we go through the supplies...”


         “Relax, little Estics.  This one bought beer himself for little human friend.  As promised.”


         “But...but...but...”


         “Aw just shove it,” Riley finally spat out.  Estics flinched back.  “It’s just a pack of beer.  Shut up about it.”  He hated the guy’s voice.


         “Riley, why don’t you shove it, you bum.  At least he’s working.”  Pensey.


         “Yeah.  Fuck, man.  No need to get harsh on a guy who’s doing his job, unlike you.”  Odesky.


         “Right.  Think you need to calm down a bit there.  I thought grunts weren’t supposed to get upset at the slightest provocation.”  Davies.


         “This one thinks the angry one should learn to watch his tongue.  Long before, our people would take them out for such things.”  Rowdy.


         “You know, fuck you all.  Don’t want me around?  Shit, I’m gone.  Take care of this all yourselves.”  Turning and walking away, no one gave complaint.


-------------------------


         The way Kyrie ate her food made it look as if she had a near full stomach and the material on her spoon was poisonous.  Probably wasn’t far off.  The gruel they called nutrition was terrible and likely had everything in her stomach gurgling near the tubes.  Still, she pushed it down like any good soldier and went for another bite.


         After the pair had woken up and gotten dressed only an hour before it had been her first decision to pick up a meal before she left in another two hours.  It seemed it was a decision she regretted.


         Kenshi watched her silently from across the table, his meal already long done.  Around the pair numerous games were going on, giving them the privacy they’d usually not receive in a mess hall.  He was thankful for that.  He didn’t want to spend her last hours on base with a score of horny men making lewd jokes.


         “I wish your Captain would ask for better supplies.  The food alone almost makes me regret coming here.”  She grinned up at him.  “Almost.”


         “I didn’t know the beds here were that much more comfortable than the ones in a supply ship.  Really worth a meal like this?”  She kicked him in the shin and he winced inwardly, but ignored it and grinned back at her.


         “How can you stand eating like this three times a day every day?”


         “You get used to it.  And it’s not the only thing they serve here.  Our chef has learned many recipes for gruel.  This is one of his...mediocre ones.”


         “What can a chef do with recycled pure nutrients?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.


         “You’d be surprised.”  Kyrie took another bite out of the grey muck, winced and pushed her plate away.


         “I can’t eat any more of this.”  Kenshi smirked, took the plate and drained the half-finished meal in seconds.  When he looked back at Kyrie she was staring at him with something between awe and disgust.  “How the hell can you do that?”


         “Now if I told you it wouldn’t be a secret.”  She scoffed jokingly at him.


         “Fine then.”  They spent a few seconds like that, just staring at each other with small smiles in blissful silence.  Of course, all good things must end.


         A deck of cards slammed into the table.  Around the pair three men sat down, a scientist among them.  A crowd quickly formed around the table.  Kenshi glared at them, but Kyrie looked curious.


         “Alright, Tamaki.  One hand.  Let’s go.”  The grunt’s face was recognizable enough.  He was a one of many mixed races, likely Midollonian prominent among them, and a strange guy to look at.  A large nose, weak chin and bulging eyes saw to that, alongside the dark green hair, but Kenshi couldn’t remember the man’s name for his life.  Frankly, he didn’t care.


         He looked at Kyrie and saw her face lit up with some sort of excitement.  She’d become another face in the crowd, another person watching for entertainment, though this one he did care about.  So she wanted to see a game?  Alright.


         “Poker?” he asked.  The players nodded.  “Starting fee?”  He reached into his pocket for his wallet.


         “$50,” another grunt answered, this one a newcomer he didn’t recognize.  It was larger bet than usual.  Might be they wanted to take his cash.  Might be they wanted to make him look bad in front of the girl.  The people on Weywon were too desperate for their own good.


         Kenshi slapped the money down.  Then he took the deck, cut it twice and started dealing the cards randomly.  Briefly the thought crossed his mind that he was too untrusting, but then he remembered where he was.  On Weywon money meant a lot to the bored people.  Sex, good food, beer and even the occasional drug could only be gotten through money unless you felt like sucking up to Dondarrion or, in the case of sex, got on one of the few women’s good side.


         The four players picked up their hands together, but Kenshi only pulled up the top end of the cards, not trusting the crowd around him.  Only a glance was needed to know he had nothing.  He looked at the others, keeping his face impassive.  They all lay a few cards down, Kenshi giving up the three lowest cards, and he dealt them back from the deck.  He glanced at his new hand.  Queen of Diamonds high.  Wonderful.  He glanced at Kyrie.  Why was she so excited to see him gamble? Why did she have to be?  No matter.  He’d give her the entertainment.  Everyone pushed their money to the middle of the table.  Now the game began.


         Each man tried the emotionless part.  One guy in particular was terrible at it.  A small grin played out between stressed cheeks and smiling eyes.  He had something.  Ugly grunt was best at the game, though he did show a few nervous signals.  Could mean anything.  Average grunt kept moving his eyes back and forth, often making eye contact with the others.  Though his lips never moved the muscles in his cheeks showed he was keeping a frown away.  The scientist in the group was a step worse.  His hands were tapping on the table nervously.


         ‘Not nervously,’ Kenshi realized.  ‘Not sporadic enough.’  He saw the man’s eyes boring into ugly grunt’s.  He tapped his cards lightly.  Once.  Twice.  Average let his tongue move over his lips, back and forth.  Was that once or twice?  The grinner blinked three times in exaggerated succession.  Definitely bad at the game.  The scientist tapped his fingers again.  Two double taps.  Either he’d gotten his signals crossed or ugly had a pair, average had either nothing or a pair, grinner had three-of-a-kind and scientist had two pair.  He needed to scare all four men out to win.


         “Gentlemen, I’d like to raise you all $20,” scientist spoke for the first time in a nasally voice he could imagine got annoying fast.  He threw in the money and ugly followed with a bit extra.  Grinner and average glanced briefly at Kenshi, but said nothing and made no further moves.


         “I’ll raise it another $10,” ugly said.


         “I’m out,” average folded.  It was all show, he knew.  Raise the bet as high as you could without it looking too suspicious and make sure the occasional man folded just to keep it interesting.  There would be a lot more raises, he knew.  And these guys were bad at it.


         “Check,” grinner said, throwing in the money.  Kenshi was honestly surprised by the restraint.  He threw in his own $30 and did nothing more.


         “I’ll take that $10 and raise you $15,” scientist said.  It was nearing time to make a move.  Too early, though.  He didn’t want it anywhere near obvious he wanted them to fold.  He needed to play it cool.  A flash of emotion would ruin him the game.


         Ugly played it like Kenshi, shelling in the cash and doing nothing more.  “I’ll raise it another $40,” grinner said, his excitement obviously getting to him.  Somehow he must have thought three-of-a-kind was something godly.


         ‘He wants the money for himself’, Kenshi realized, throwing in the cash.  Scientist didn’t look too pleased either, though he made no move to quit.


         “How about we make that $50?” scientist asked with some angry sarcasm present in his voice, throwing in an extra $10.  Ugly must have come to Kenshi’s own conclusion for he turned over his cards and sat back, glaring daggers at grinner.  Grinner himself simply threw in the cash and looked happily at scientist.  Finally Kenshi acted.


         “I’ll raise that $15,” Kenshi spoke, throwing in the money and reversing the game.  All four men seemed surprised by that.  Grinner finally stopped grinning.  Must have finally remembered an unknown was at the table.  Scientist folded.


         “I’ll put in another $5 to that,” grinner said.  The amount of money and number of raises were getting out of hand, but Kenshi put down the cash.  Grinner was looking pretty nervous.  Finally the Terran smirked.


         “Another $25?” Kenshi asked mockingly.  “Or shall we lay down our cards?”


         “I fold.”


         ‘Complete idiot,’ Kenshi thought, chuckling lightly as he flipped his cards up.  Grinner didn’t look too happy with what he saw.                              


         “But...I thought...”


         “You people need to learn how to con.  You’re terrible at it,” Kenshi said, shoveling in $610.  “Made it obvious the second you started communicating, not to mention you obviously can’t trust each other.” They all gave a stupid look at that.  Apparently they didn’t think one of their own would be so stupid as to betray them.  Grinner would likely get many beatings the next few weeks.


         Standing up, Kenshi only stayed long enough for Kyrie to latch onto his arm before walking away.  It was when they entered an elevator and were starting to move that she finally looked up to him, a smile spread widely across her face.


         “You’re a good poker player.”


         The words made him think of his history of luck, or lack thereof.  The bad hand, his family, his ‘banishment’.  And Mavys.  His free hand clenched and unclenched slowly.  Finally he looked down at the woman beside him.


         “No.  Poker requires luck.  I just have a talent for manipulation at times.  Man can do anything if he plays his cards right.”


         “I guess you just proved that, didn’t you?”  He smirked at her as the elevator doors opened and the pair walked out together.


-------------------------


         Shrieks had become so commonplace in the East Wing the last 13 hours most everybody seemed to have learned to stay away from the area.  Taber had suggested numerous times that he be the one to change the lights, but Jules was stubborn.  That and convinced it was much more complicated than it really was, but who was Taber to say differently?


         From the ceiling Jules had the top quarter of his body stuck in, sparks sprayed out continuously.  Jules had already learned that a thick nylon jacket and welding goggles were required for such work - quickly, fortunately.  Still, Taber couldn’t comprehend what needed cutting or welding up there and, as he looked at the nearby storage rooms, he wondered if the men from the supply ship or the grunts helping would call them on any of this.


         “God damn heat resistant...FUCK!!!” Jules yelled out as the welder/cutter was shut off.  “Taber get me a hammer.”  He didn’t even ask why.  The hammer went up, Jules grabbed it and six seconds later the Comanton was howling.  The hammer fell, Jules went tense and he looked to be struggling with something for a good minute before he finally popped back out of the ceiling, his face dirt black.


         “Are you finished Jules?”


         “Of course I’m finished.  Would I be out of there if I weren’t finished?”


         “Ummmm...”  Jules growled something uncomprehensible and put the light and panel back into place.  The light switched on.  Then all other lights in the corridor shut off.


         “The hell?!  They’re like God damned holiday lights!!!” the battleaxe screeched in frustration.  The men from storage came out, some looking merely annoyed, others a bit angry.


         “Jules, the hell is wrong with you?” one of the grunts Taber recognized as Pensey asked.


         “Yeah.  Fuckin’ A, man.  You just turned off all the lights.  You could’ve warned us, you know,” some loud new Nindathu he’d seen a few times complained.


         “Not just lights.  Electricity,” a Barcuch said in a thick accent.  Taber noticed him pressing the close button for the storage room repeatedly.  Nothing happened.  He looked at Jules to see him red-faced under the only light.


         “I’m not done yet, dammit!”


         “Shit Jules, you are done.  Once Dondarrion hears about this he’s going to flay you,” Pensey said.


         “I said I’m not finished!  Don’t tell me how to do my job, Pansy!”  Though the lighting was bad where he stood, Taber could easily make out the flash of rage that went through the grunt.


         “Then fix it, Jewel,” Pensey replied, stressing the word out.  “And do it quick.”


         “Yeah, man,” the loudmouth got in, seemingly just for the sake of saying something.  The quartet walked away silently as the pair watched.  It wasn’t until they were out of eyesight that Jules finally took off the cover and sighed.


         “Give me the cutter, Taber, and stand by that storage room.  I need you to keep testing out that door.”


         “Ok, Jules,” Taber responded instantly.  ‘I hope Jules can fix this,’ he thought worriedly.  ‘No commander would ever look at me good again if I got into trouble.’


-------------------------


         The lab was the largest section of Weyon, as well as the one held with the highest priority.  It was here in which the purpose of the middle-of-nowhere station was presented: genetic experimentation.  Heavily illegal, it was what made the small station unknown to the universe in general.  It was also what made it an outlaw station should any leak occur.


         Renly walked between the different cells boredly.  A few fellow researchers were observing the various animals in each of the cells and scribbling notes to be entered into a computer later, but Renly hardly cared.  This damnable place needed something fun!  There was nothing to do!


         “You’re in early, Davies,” one of the older scientists called out.  Gegophski, one of the lead scientists, he saw when he turned to look.  The ugly white-haired man was a dwarf at just over 3', but the tiny Uchlin - humans of average height with a slight point to their ears - was a genius, tried and true.


         “I had nothing better to do so I figured I might as well take a trip through the zoo,” Renly replied with a grin.


         “Well not too much to do today.  Wren seems to be having more pains and Missy needs to be fed again.  Other than that you’re free for the day.


         “Yay.  Nothing to do again.”  Gegophski chuckled.


         “Many a lazy person would like to be in your shoes.”


         “Many a lazy person has an HV to watch,” Renly muttered before turning to walk towards Wren’s cell.  The giant red beast used to be a chimp before they had started work on it.  Now it was the universe’s friendliest potential mass murderer.  Wren looked like a giant red gorilla on steroids, but for the sad little face he used whenever someone came by.  Strong Wren was, but also docile.  And knowing the pains he received, likely dead within a month.


         “What’s wrong with you today, Old Red?” he asked, walking up to the cell.  Wren mewled sadly.  Death would be welcome for this beast.


         Pressing a button on the cell’s control panel, the glass of the cell changed to show an x-ray of the red monkey.  The readout on the data panel showed a number of stress points and, looking back at Wren, he could make out a number of small spasms running along his bulky muscles.  It was a common enough occurrence.  Wren had grown in height and bulk much too fast.  The joints were stretched, the muscles were crushing nerves, blood vessels and bones and the overall added density of his mass made it so Wren was usually overheating at temperatures over 4̊ C.  Renly shook his head in pity and increased the dosage in stress and pain relievers before walking to his next target.


         Missy was, to put it simply, a giant insect.  She was the spawn of seven subjects before her and she didn’t exactly classify as an insect any longer, but it was what she was most akin to.  The great black beast was most similar to a praying mantis, her ancestor from years before, though in truth she looked nothing like one.  Missy could best be described as hellish.  A quiet, still, 7' monster with sickles for fingers and beastly teeth covered thinly by lips.  Her small black eyes could barely be seen against her somewhat triangular skull.  And this beast, unlike Wren, was no gentle giant.


         Territorial and aggressive were only the tips of the iceberg for Missy.  She was a bred killer and a harsh carnivore.  Studies had shown signs of playfulness present in her mind when she was on the hunt.  Studies had also shown that every creature they’d brought before her showed intense fear for Missy.  And she sensed emotion better than a bloodhound. To add to it all, Missy had the intelligence of an average eight-year-old human and had used it in the hunts they tested her in.


         When he approached the cell Missy was crouched into one of the far corners, as usual.  The room she was kept in was bloodstained so badly you could no longer see the white of the walls.  She made no move, no sound.  There was nothing to say she was even alive but for the life monitors on the data panel.  She was awake and alert.


         Typing a code into the control panel, Renly turned away before the huge, reddish-orange, thick-skinned rysna was pushed in for Missy’s three-day feeding.  There was a loud moan of fear from the three-ton bag of red meat and then there was screams and tearing.  Always the tearing.  Renly gave off a shudder and continued on to the more shallow sections of the lab where the freak zoo wouldn’t bother him.


         In less than a minute Renly was lying back on a stretcher with an arm over his eyes.  The lab went on as usual around him in it’s general silence.  It was when he heard the footsteps approach that he took the arm off his face.  Turning his head he saw Elly Avnel approach, her eyes turned toward the clipboard in her hand.


         Avnel was one of those rare women on Weywon who didn’t slink to the level of the many men stationed there and, in turn, closed herself off to most everyone around her.  She was a pretty girl, nothing to drool over, but pleasant to the eyes.  Mostly a mix between Pesnian - smaller, slighter humans evolved from when mankind first settled in space - and Frentan, she was short at just under five feet.  Her slightly-too-large lips never seemed to smile, though she didn’t have a cold demeanor about her either.  Her shoulder-length brown hair stood in stark contrast to her pale skin and both looked to receive equal amounts of grooming - or lack thereof.  She was by no means a knockout, but one thing did stand out beautifully on her.  As cliche as it was, Elly Avnel had two of the most beautiful blue eyes Renly had ever laid sight on.


         All this was taken in on a long, shameless stare.  He’d be lying if he didn’t say he was attracted to the woman.  She was prettier than most women he’d seen the past year, though less attractive than some, and she was pure as far as he could tell.  Untouchable.


         “Hey,” Renly finally said when he realized she was too tied up in looking at her clipboard to notice him.  She snapped her head up toward him, startled, but relaxed just as quickly.


         “Hello,” Avnel replied before looking back down toward the clipboard.


         “Has anyone ever told you you work too much?”


         “Yes, actually,” she said, not even looking up this time.  “They seem to think it’s some sort of magical phrase to get in bed with me.”  Renly would have laughed if he hadn’t realized he’d been shot down after only one sentence.  Still, he’d worked with this woman for over a year now, though they never conversed much, and to hell if she was getting out of this without at least making conversation.


         “Well it’s true just the same.  When was the last time you took a break?”


         “The last time I decided to be flattered.”  Shot down again!  And now he wasn’t even trying for anything!  Ok, so maybe that was a lie, but still, twice!  Maybe he was wrong about the whole cold demeanor thing.  More like frigid.


         “I’m not trying to flatter you.”


         “Then what are you doing?”  She finally looked up.


         “Just trying to make conversation.”  He threw the arm back over his eyes.  “But if you feel like getting offended, alright.”  There was a long pause.


         “Sorry,” she said quietly.  “What do you want to talk about?”  He took his arm off once more.


         “Eh.  Just curious to get to know you better.  Everyone here’s either a grunt with too much time on their hands or an old bag of wind.”


         “So you were asking me out?”


         “Yeah, I guess.  You think I was really expecting you to jump me?”  He had to admit he kinda did, at first.  Weywon wore itself on you after awhile.  Avnel finally gave him a small smile, if a bit sheepishly.


         “I’m sorry.  I guess that would be nice.”  Renly sat up on the stretcher and grinned.


         “You guess?  How unkind.”  Now she really did smile - not a bad look for her.


         “I have to finish going over a few notes.  Does dinner in an hour sound good?”


         “Sounds excellent,” Renly replied, pleased as he watched her walk away.  ‘Wonder how well she’ll like a good beer.  Hopefully it’s been so long since she had a drink it loosens up those iron thighs of hers.  A man can hope.’  He smiled pleasantly to himself.  Right now, nothing could ruin his good mood.


-------------------------


         Nothing was said between Kenshi and Kyrie as they walked toward the supply ship.  There were no tender words, no holding hands, no longing looks.  And really, neither wanted any of those things.  Tenderness could be saved for the romance novels.  They were more than friends and they knew it.  No need to shove it down each other’s throats.


         When the exit hatch came in sight with Pensey and Odesky leaning against either side and Westerly waiting just inside Kyrie stopped.  Tugging on Kenshi’s hand, she led him around the nearest corner and turned to look up at him.


         “Guess this is goodbye again,” she said softly.


         “Yep,” was all he could manage in reply.


         “So I’ll see you in five months?”


         “Mhmm.”  She smiled.


         “Good.”  Sliding her hands on his shoulders and pulling herself up, she kissed him lightly.  Kenshi lazily threw his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing his own lips back.  It felt good - better then good - and Kenshi couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be.  But then it was over and the two were walking toward the supply ship once more.


         Kenshi stopped a few feet outside while Kyrie stepped around a patiently waiting Westerly.  She finally stopped and turned next to a pile of empty crates.  Smiling at him, she gave him a small wave.


         “Later, Terran.”


         “See you, Rittu.”  Westerly closed the hatch as Pensey did the same from his end.  And then she was gone again.


         “Have fun, Tamaki?” Odesky asked with a grin.


         “Yeah,” he said.  He felt the muscles in his lips relax as his own smile disappeared.


         “Come on.  Got some cigars in the storage room,” Pensey said, pushing off the wall.


         “Right,” Kenshi replied.  As one the three grunts started walking down the corridor.


-------------------------


         Carrol sighed in boredom as he resettled himself into the security chair.  Eight hour breaks just weren’t long enough between five shifts.  Even Penmeyer, the consistent well-doer, was looking a little tired.  And of course Vriess was the most vocal of the three.


         “God damn Dondarrion and his fucking punishments.  This is just fuckin’ torture, man.  Need some damn food.  Tired of this fucking room.”


         “Shut the hell up, Vriess,” Carrol said, rubbing his temples.  “You got us into this.”


         “And you didn’t seem to be fuckin’ complaining at the time.”


         “I SAID TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!  Shit.  All you do is fuckin’ bitch and moan.  You got a problem with Dondarrion, take it up with him.  You’re giving me a fucking migraine.”  Vriess looked like he was about to burst, his face was so red, but instead just turned his chair and looked away, muttering curses.  Penmeyer, on the other hand, looked like he had just pissed himself.  Carrol ignored them both and turned to watch the porn that was the security station monitors.


         For half an hour that’s pretty much how it stayed.  Vriess sulked in the corner while Penmeyer scanned the monitors and shot the occasional glance to the other pair and Carrol stared blankly ahead at some random corridor monitor.  The silence was so thick that all three men jumped when the subspace radar chimed in.


         “Fuck, man,” Vriess mumbled and went back to skulking.  Penmeyer was the one to answer.


         “This is station 52270897.  Please state your business here.”


         “This is supply ship Ansdell, identification 229360-1648029-545,” a gruff voice announced somewhat angrily.  “One of my men left baggage on board.  Requesting permission to come aboard for a few minutes.”


         “Let me get you clearance,” Penmeyer replied and switched over to the captain’s office.  Vriess mumbled something about the “stupid fucking navy”, but both men ignored him


         “What is it?” Dondarrion’s restrained voice asked a quarter minute later.


         “Sir, the supply ship just came back and is requesting permission to come aboard.  They say they left some baggage here.”


         “Permission granted.  Tell them to hurry about it,” he said before cutting the connection.  Penmeyer switched back to the supply ship.


         “You have clearance.  Captain Dondarrion requests that you be quick, however.”


         “I’ll tell my guys,” the voice said and the radio went silent.  Penmeyer started to get up to open the hatch, but Vriess quickly stopped him.


         “I’ll open the hatch.  Anything to get out of this damn room,” Vriess said, sending a snarl over to Carrol.  Carrol sneered back.  As the red-headed monkey walked out of the security station.  Penmeyer looked at Carrol.


         “What’s his problem?” the kiss-ass asked.  Carrol snorted.


         “Do I look like a fuckin’ psychologist to you?”  Penmeyer looked away, embarrassed.  “Knob,” he muttered and looked at the security monitors.


         The usual was going on.  Sex, gambling, sex, gambling and a little work mixed in for the hell of it.  The storage area of the East Wing was still mostly out, though the ever famous Jules and Taber had managed to get most of the lights back on, at least.  Vriess, meanwhile, was stalking down the corridors angrily and Carrol followed him from camera to camera.


         And then he was gone.


         “The hell?” Carrol said.  Penmeyer turned to him.


         “What?”


         “Vriess.  He just disappeared.”  Penmeyer looked around the monitors.


         “Everything seems to be working alright.  Maybe he’s playing some trick.  You know how he is.”


         ‘Yeah.  Stupid and vain,’ Carrol thought.  He searched through the monitors.  The corridors around East Wing were clear of all life aside from the storage area where Jules and Taber worked.  There a light flickered repeatedly on and off every three seconds while Jules and Taber kept trying to repair the muddled electronics.  Taber stood stupidly still, merely watching his partner work while Jules tampered inside the ceiling, the top quarter of his body shoved between the metal panels.  He kept dropping things, too.  Some sort of nut.  Every couple seconds he’d drop another where they landed...


         “Nowhere?” he whispered.  “Restart the system.”


         “Huh?” Penmeyer asked, staring at him with that usual stupid look.


         “Restart the damn system.”  Still that idiotic look.  “NOW YOU FUCKING KNOB!!!”  Dondarrion’s pet flew to work typing in a quick code on the main control panel and the system went out.  When the monitors restarted Carrols eyes went straight toward the East Wing picture.


         “My God,” Penmeyer whispered the same moment Carrol thought it.  In the middle of the exit hatch lay Vriess, the five holes in his back still smoking.  Around him stood three dozen men dressed head to toe in black armor.  And then another.  A tall man with long, lean features.  His skin was dark, but not quite tan, and his hair jet black.  Unlike the others he didn’t cover his facial features, didn’t even wear the same armor.  All he had was a long black coat covering the dark clothes and small weapons underneath.  What was startling about him, though, wasn’t the lack of full dress, unlike his counterparts, nor the unsettling smirk on his face.  It was the two harsh golden eyes which took in everything around him.


-------------------------


         The cigars weren’t of the best quality, but they weren’t half bad, either.  And it wasn’t like any of the three men could really complain about them.  Luxuries were something rare on Weywon.  Still, it would be best Dondarrion never found out about this.


         “You guys do this every time a shipment comes in?” Odesky asked, taking a pull from the brown stick of leaves.


         “For the last year or so,” Pensey replied.  “Tamaki actually got this all started.”


         “Tamaki eh?”  Odesky squinted at the Terran.  “Never knew you were much for breaking rules.”  Kenshi smirked and took a deep puff.


         “I like my cigars,” was all he said.  Odesky let out his snort/giggle and Pensey smiled.


         “Be sure to have me included in the next shipment in.  Better than playing nice for a drop of wine.”  Odesky inhaled deeply and promptly coughed out the smoke.  “Shit,” he wheezed.  “Forgot.  Don’t inhale cigars.”  Kenshi and Pensey chuckled and together the trio pulled in a mouthful of spicy smoke.


         The storage area was perfect for a quick smoke.  Dondarrion never cared to check supplies and there were no smoke detectors or cameras in the room.  It was a bit annoying with the flickering lights, what with Jules still working on repairs, but at least the blast door to the area worked now - from the inside, that is.


         “When do you think that Taber guy will get things fixed?” Odesky started, not being able to shut his mouth as usual.


         “Jules you mean?” Pensey asked.  The blabbermouth nodded.  “Few hours or a day.  Never can tell with him.”  Kenshi chuckled.


         “Remember when he put out the barracks?”


         “Yeah.  Thank God I wasn’t in there,” Pensey said.  Odesky looked confused.


         “What happened?”  Pensey nodded toward Kenshi.


         “You tell it.”


         “Alright,” Kenshi started.  “Jules is fixing the lights near the barracks when he crosses some wires and the entire room goes out.  When he managed to get the lights working again an hour later the room is, bar a few, one giant orgy.”


         “Yeah,” Pensey laughed.  “Nasty stuff.  In pitch black guys were with other guys and somehow didn’t know any better.  Or at least a lot of ‘em.  Many people freaked out.”


         “Transfer requests went out like nuts.  Of course, a lot of them never went through.”


         “Damn.  All this because one guy fucked up?” Odesky asked.  The others nodded.


         “FUBAR,” Kenshi whispered lightly.  The others looked at him strangely, but he made no attempt to explain.  Jumps from common tongue to Terran were scarcely understood.


         The trio spent the next minute in near silence, for once.  Odesky put out his cigar after another coughing fit, but the other two kept wearing theirs down.  Odesky was the one who broke the quiet, of course.


         “You hear that?” he asked.  The long ears of his Nindathu heritage twitched slightly.


         “What?” Pensey asked.  The blabbermouth gained a strange look.


         “Thought I heard something.  Nevermind.”


         Kenshi listened closely.  He heard nothing.  Then...something...  Sounded familiar.  Standing up, he opened the storage room door.  The sound came again.  It wasn’t loud, but he knew what it was clear as day.


         “Is that gunfire?” Pensey asked.  There was no confirmation needed.  Kenshi frowned and pulled his pistol from his holster.