Editing Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part One (section)

==To the Road Trip!==

===Welcome===


Jake gripped the armrest of his seat, nausea pulling at him.  “Does it always feel that bad?” he managed.

“Every single time,” Freya groused.  She was looking a lot more comfortable, though.  “You get used to it.”  The four seventeen-year-olds and sixteen-year-old in the party were strapped into seats in the officers' lounge of the patrol frigate Iron Tide. The utilitarian interior of the ship was livened up a bit in the lounge, naturally, with real wood trim on the bar and a variety of entertainments scattered along the walls.  All five recent High School grads were looking a bit under the weather, as the effects of Warp transition took their toll.  The very few other people in the room were looking much better.  But then, on a patrol frigate, Warp transition is a fact of life.

Freya, the most seasoned Warp traveler of the five, levered off her chair and shoved her restraints aside, shaking her hands.  She glanced over the little group as she did so.  There was herself, of course.  Freya Russ, heiress of the Space Wolves, and de facto Blood Princess of the Fenris system.  Her boyfriend, Alex Carlin, was with her.  Beside him was her cousin – or sister, really – Remilia Dorn, who had so little interest in the rulership of the Inwit system that she wouldn’t claim it if it fell into her lap, and the heiress of the Imperial Fists.  Next to her was Jacob Seager, Jake.  He was there as the more-or-less fiancé of passenger five, Venus, the daughter of the Primarch of the Salamander Legion.  All five were looking a bit green, save Venus, of course, whose obsidian skin and fiery eyes never changed their hue.

“All right, kids, on your feet,” Freya instructed, clapping once.  “No way to get the Warp Shivers to go away better than a brisk walk.  Let’s go, up up up.”

Alex wobbled to his feet, shaking his head.  “You say so, babe,” he grumbled.  Remilia climbed up too, her superhuman physiology easing her pain.

“So…this is it,” she said, excitement tingeing her voice.  She was practically beaming.  “We are officially on the way.”

“We are!” Freya said happily.  “So…nine days to Nocturne, then a month there.”

Venus smiled, leaning back in her chair.  “Home.”

“Terra’s home,” Freya said, then grinned eagerly.  “This is still gonna be AWESOME!” she squealed.  “Ah, I can’t wait.”

Jake unclipped his restraints, standing and stretching.  The tall, pale sixteen-year-old shook off the lingering Warp Shivers, popping his knuckles.  “I know!”  He grinned broadly, sweeping the room with his eyes.  “I’ve never even been on a ship before.  I have no idea what to expect.”

“Several days of tedium,” Freya said wryly.  They had already sent their stuff up to their rooms, to be deposited and sorted later.  They had been on their way down to the lounge when the jump warning came through the PA.  “Believe me, you want to spend as much time in the Warp as possible asleep.  Which means I, at least, am going to spend as much time in the gym as possible.”

“Sounds good,” Remilia said.  “Too bad they don’t have a pool, though,” she said, grinning at Venus.

“I know, I know, but I’ll make do,” Venus said.  She was the only swimmer in the group, and was under no impressions about being able to practice that summer, seeing as her immediate surroundings would be nothing but warships and Death Worlds for months.

An officer in a smart white and grey Navy uniform walked up to the little group.  He came to a halt several paces off and snapped off a respectful salute.  None of the Daughters returned it, though Alex and Jake both glanced over to see if they should.  “My Lords and Ladies Primarch, welcome aboard the Iron Tide,” he said, clasping his hands at his back.  “I am Lieutenant Commander Haarlan, the ship’s Liaison officer.”

“Commander,” Remilia said, nodding her head in a brief bow.  The other teens offered up an assortment of acknowledgements, and Haarlan gestured behind him.

“I’ve been assigned to ensure that your trip to Nocturne is as comfortable as it can be.  Is there anything I can do to that end now?” he asked.

“Assure me that that bar serves something I’m old enough to drink,” Venus joked.  Haarlan glanced over at her, and his face hardened a bit.

“I’m sure it does, Lady Venus.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Jake said, brushing himself down.  He looked over at the officer and extended his hand.  “Jake Seager.  Nice to meet you.”

Haarlan grabbed his hand and shook it briskly.  “Welcome aboard, my Lord.”

“Lord?” Jake chuckled.  “Thanks, but I’m not-”

“Alex Carlin,” Alex suddenly broke in, cutting his friend off.  He shook Haarlan’s hand too, looking pointedly at Jake.  “I don’t suppose I could trouble you to show me where the nearest restroom is,” he said to the officer.

“This way, my Lord,” Haarlan said, directing Alex to one side of the room.  As soon as Haarlan was out of earshot, Jake turned to the girl, eyebrows up.
“What was that about?”

Venus shrugged, mystified.  “No clue.”

“Does he think I’m royalty, too?  And Alex?” Jake asked, bewildered.

“I specifically said who each of us was when I put us on the manifest,” Venus said with a shrug.  Her shimmering black hair rippled over the thick fabric of her shirt as she did, catching the light over the bar.  “Names, titles.  He might just be confused.”

“Unless he’s making certain assumptions,” Remilia put in.

Freya shook her head, her red braids bumping off her arms.  “Whatever.  Who’s thirsty?”

“Aye,” Remilia said, walking straight over the bar.  Jake put the question aside.  He was going to be here for a while, he could always ask Alex later.

The four teens trooped up to the O-Club lounge’s bar and sat down, as a Lieutenant that looked barely older than they did bustled up, desperately trying to keep a grin off his face.  “My Ladies, my Lord, how may I serve you?”

“Hi there, Lieutenant,” Remilia said, running her hands over the smoothed, glossy wood of the bar.  “Just a round of waters, I think.”

“Can’t risk something heavier seconds after my first Warp transit,” Jake joked.

“Ah, the first jump, Lord?  It’s something you'll soon forget,” the Lieutenant said.  He grabbed a few glasses from behind the counter and started filling them.  “It gets so much easier with time.”

“I bet.”  Jake lifted his glass, waiting until Alex hurriedly walked up to the bar in time to join the toast.  “To the road trip, then?”

“To the road trip,” Freya giggled, clinking her glass with the others.  Each teen downed some water and set their glasses down, all solemn ritual.

The Lieutenant beamed.  “Well.  Let me know if you need anything else, will you?”

“Actually,” Venus asked, leaning forward a bit.  “I was wondering how often this ship finds itself serving with the Salamanders, since it apparently makes the rounds between Mars and Nocturne.”

“In battle, my Lady?  Never, that I know of,” the young Lieutenant confessed.  “In other duties, all the time.  As far as I know, however, you’re the first Salamander we’ve had aboard in the flesh.”

Venus blinked.  “Then…what other role does the ship serve?”

“The Tide serves as a patrol vessel, ranging ahead of convoys between Nocturne and Sol,” Haarlan said, walking up behind Alex and standing beside the group.  “Since that route is so secure, it’s often called upon to ferry VIPs and secure cargo that the normal Mechanicus and Navy convoys can’t carry in a sufficiently timely manner,” he explained, standing at ease next to the bar.

“Something I can get for you, Commander?” the Lieutenant asked brightly, turning to the liaison officer.

The older man didn’t even turn his gaze.  “No, Lieutenant,” his voice suddenly a bit more clipped and toneless.  The younger man seemed to shrink a bit.  Remilia quirked her brow, sensing some history, but kept any questions she may have had to herself.

“I see.  Thanks,” Venus said, arriving at the same conclusion.  The Liaison officer nodded once.

“Of course.  Here,” he said, digging in a pocket, “is my personal vox code.  Please do contact me if you need anything else.”

“We will, thanks, Commander,” Remilia said.  Haarlan nodded once, then turned on his heel and walked off.

As soon as the senior officer was gone, the Lieutenant behind the bar shook his head.  He turned back to his guests, smile back on his face.  “Anyone need a refill?”

“A story, I doth detect,” Freya said slyly.

“Nothing that literally every single ship in the fleet doesn’t have from time to time, Madam,” the Lieutenant said ruefully.  “Political officers don’t tend to like the junior officers much.”

“So that’s what he does on the weekends, huh,” Freya said drily.  “There’s no surprise.”

Jake blinked.  “Uh…”

“Political officers are assigned to liaise with the Munitorum directly,” Venus supplied.

“Ah.  AH.  I…yeah.”  Jake swirled his ice, thinking that one over.  “Yeah.  That would explain it.”

“Well.  Anyway,” the Lieutenant said, clearly trying to steer back to smoother ground.  “Is there anything else I can get you, my Ladies, Lords?”

“Ah, no thanks,” Remilia said on behalf of the group.  “So…what’s your name, anyway?”

The young officer paused, surprised.  “Ah…I’m Lieutenant Kines, my Lady.  It’s an honor.”

“Thanks.”  Remilia glanced over the room, noting how many more people were streaming in.  “Is this the time of some get-together?”

“Well…sort of.  A lot of the junior officers come by around this time, the first day after a jump.  Just a good-luck thing, you know,” Kines said, shrugging nervously.  “I assure you that you’re not intruding.”

“Good.  Then, I think we’ll stick around, if that’s okay,” she said, tapping the side of her drink with one finger.  Kines refilled her glass, then grabbed a few bottles of something for the other officers who were drifting up to the bar.

A member of the ship’s fighter complement wandered up, still in day uniform.  “Hey, Chuck, how’s it going?” he asked, dropping onto a stool.

“Eventful.  How’s the deck, Commander?” Kines said, sliding a bottle of something down to him.

“Packed.  We had something like half again the usual cargo crap,” the pilot said, before the red glare off the mirror behind the bar caught his eyes.  He followed the light to its source-

“Hi,” Venus said.  The pilot stared for a long moment, shocked, then carefully looked away.

“Greetings, Lady Venus,” the pilot said, his demeanor shifting entirely.  Kines shot Venus a tiny grin, glad to have found a coconspirator.

Gradually, other officers drifted over, and the vacationers settled in, talking to a few people, being stared at by most others.  When the hour came rolling by, Freya glanced meaningfully at her bare wrist.  Kines took the hint.  “My Lords, Ladies Primarch, if you’d like, the mess is open for dinner now,” he said.

“Excellent.  Where to?” Freya asked, standing up.

“It’s two decks directly below us, Madam,” the Lieutenant said.  He seemed about to say more when he suddenly cut his eyes left, the smile fading from his face.

Haarlan walked up behind the group, standing at respectful ease until they had all turned around.  “Dinner is served, my Lords, Ladies Primarch.  Shall we?”

“Ah, just in time,” Remilia said, standing up.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Alex said, leaning across the bar to shake Kines’ hand.

“Certainly, Lord Carlin, thanks for coming.  And welcome aboard the Iron Tide,” Kines replied.

===Who's Hungry?===

Alex hurried after his friends, following the political officer out.  Once all six were in the corridor outside, Haarlan summoned a lift.  As he reached out to press the button, however, Remilia frowned.  “Wait, I thought the mess was below us,” she said, as Haarlan tapped the button for the deck above them.

“The officers’ mess is, Lady Remilia, the Captain’s Hall is above us.”

“Exalted company,” Jake murmured.

“Hardly, Lord,” Haarlan said.  “Technically, Lady Primarch Venus has authority over the whole convoy.”

Venus laughed aloud.  “An illusion I’m glad to dispel,” she chuckled.  “I’m not here to assume command.”

He smiled.  “I’m sure he knows,” Haarlan said, holding the lift hatch open.  “But it would be improper not to let you dine with the ship’s Captain on the first night of the voyage,” he continued.

“Well, thank you, Commander,” Venus said, unconsciously assuming the lead in the little gaggle of people.  Some parts of command were easier to remember than others.  As they marched up to the entrance of the Captain’s Hall, the pair of formally-dressed Naval Provosts outside clicked their heels together and saluted.

As Haarlan returned the salute formally, Venus tugged her hunter green jacket a bit tighter.  “I feel underdressed.”

“I’m sure the Captain wouldn’t mind if you were to pause to change into something more formal,” Haarlan said graciously.  Alex and Jake glanced at each other in sudden unease.

“Nah, I didn’t pack anything more formal than this,” Venus decided, pushing the hatch open.  Haarlan’s face froze, but he followed the group in, clearly wrong-footed.

The Captain and a few Salamander serfs in formal uniforms were already in the room, discussing something with a man whose clothes suggested membership in the Scholastica Psykana.  At the arrival of the party, however, the conversation ceased.  The Captain immediately marched up to the group and dropped to one knee before Venus, who skidded to a halt when she saw what was going on.

“My Lady Primarch Venus.  I am Captain Roemer of the Iron Tide.  It is an honor to have you aboard.”

“Please rise, Captain,” Venus said, annoyance and exasperation buried in her voice.  Jake winced.  “And thank you for ferrying us to our destination,” she added as Roemer rose to his feet.

Roemer nodded respectfully, though he wisely refrained from saluting, which technically would have been a breach of protocol while none of his guests were in uniform.  “I hope you find our military fare to your liking, my Lady,” he said, gesturing to the table and moving to sit down.

Venus didn’t move an inch.  When Roemer noticed, he glanced over his shoulder, to see Venus rubbing the bridge of her nose.  She looked up at him, lips compressed.  “Is this going to be an issue, Captain Roemer?”

The Captain blinked, nervously glancing over at Haarlan.  “I beg your pardon, my Lady?”

“Captain, I do appreciate that you’re honored to be transporting us on your ship, really,” Venus said, as her companions shifted or looked at each other awkwardly.  “But let me clarify: this is a road trip.  We’re going on vacation.  So…please, let’s keep things as informal as we feasibly can, all right, Captain?” she asked, smiling to take the edge off.

Roemer stared at Venus for a long moment, then acquiesced.  “Very well, Lady Venus, if you insist.  However, it would be downright rude of me not to offer you and your guests a dinner suited to your station.  In this, I insist.”

Venus nodded her assent, walking over to the table, where the other senior crewers and the psyker had been nervously waiting the entire time.  “Of course.  Please don’t take this the wrong way, Captain.  But I have four years, or more, ahead of me, instructing batch after batch of teachers and classmates not to treat me like a china doll.  I’d prefer the summer vacation I enjoy beforehand be free of that sort of thing,” she said, her voice easily slipping into the effortlessly regal inflection of born nobility.  “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said warmly, sliding into her seat, and offering up the carefree grin that had melted Jake’s heart in an instant.

Roemer managed a smile of his own, sitting in his seat at the side of the table, next to Venus’ own.  Jake quickly slid into the seat at her other hand, while the rest of the party found chairs where they could.  One of the serfs, however, leaned across the table to address Venus in person.  “I’m glad you were able to make it home, ma’am.”

“Hm?” Venus looked up from her plate to look at the serf, and her jaw dropped.  “Isaac?  Is that you?”

“Well, you’re about a foot higher, but yes, it’s me,” the aging serf smiled.

“Isaac!  It’s good to see you again!” Venus said happily, as she leaned back from the table to allow the servitors to deposit her meal.

“It is, ma’am,” the serf said.  He turned to the table and addressed the other guests.  “Lord Vulkan appointed me seniormost member of the Salamander contingent aboard.  Venus and I,” he added, smiling at her as he said it, “are old sparring buddies.  Such as it is.”

“Hah!  Even by the time I finished your courses, you could still kick my ass raw,” Venus confessed.

“Bah, you were holding back by the end,” Isaac said, waving off her concerns.  As the servitors finished depositing the food, however, he paused respectfully, as Roemer stood and offered his glass to the room.

“My Ladies and Lords, on behalf of the officers and crew of the RHN Iron Tide, SLFG 98, I wish to offer you all the compliments of the vessel.  By the behest of her Primarch Ladyship Venus, I’ll only get to do this once, so please,” he added, smiling benignly, “accept my humble gratitude for your presence.”

“Thank you kindly, Captain Roemer,” Venus said, standing and bowing formally, pausing just before her hair dipped into the food.  “I look forward to the journey.”

The meal itself went amicably.  Remilia and one of the serfs engaged in a conversation about the most recent shifts of Terran politics, while Alex and the psyker – the ship’s Navigator’s assistant – found a common ground in their shared love of scrumball.  Jake, meanwhile, was bursting at the seams with questions about their destination.  “So, when we arrive, what do we expect?  Dock in orbit, or on Prometheus?” he asked eagerly.

“Prometheus station itself,” Isaac said.  “We’re going to be offloading substantial amounts of cargo first.  Some Martian hardware for the Legion, and a few new satellites.”

“That’s just fine.  I can’t wait,” Jake said, grinning to himself as the servitors cleared his appetizer plate away and dropped off a plate of something that smelled awesome.

“First time leaving Terra, Lord?” the Captain asked.  He held his cup to the side for the servitor to top off with wine.

“First time leaving the atmosphere, really,” Jake said.

“Ah, a Terran born and bred, eh,” Roemer said knowingly.  “I had never left Proximus Station until I went off to the officers’ academy.”

“Well, no, my family’s actually Martian by history, at least my father’s side is,” Jake explained, in reference to his Magos grandfather.  “But my mother’s side of the family and I have lived in the hives our whole lives.”

Roemer paused, cup halfway to his lips, and glanced the pale young man over.  “Ah…a hiver, then?”

Venus very slowly turned to face the Captain, as did Jake himself.  “Surely that isn’t an issue, Captain,” Jake said, an instant before Venus could.

“No, no…of course not,” Roemer said hastily.  “I simply didn’t know that any members of the Royal family lived in the hives.”

“I’m not a member of the Royal family,” Jake said truthfully.

“Forgive me, Lord, but I’m confused,” one of the officers to Roemer’s side asked, presumably so the Captain himself wouldn’t have to.  “What relation do you have to Lady Primarch Venus?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Captain,” Venus supplied.  Roemer shook his head again.

“Well, I apologize for my presumptuousness, Lord,” Roemer said.  “I must have been misinformed.  I was told you were a relative of Lady Misja.”

Jake chuckled self-effacingly.  “I’m just some guy from Hive Tetra, Captain.”

“I see.”  The Captain just sort of looked at him for a moment, then returned to his food in silence.  Venus looked worriedly at her boyfriend, but he was smiling into his dessert.

“Lady Remilia, if I may ask, how did the horrible situation with Lady Morticia resolve?” the ship’s mate asked.

“As well as any teenage girl getting shot can be,” Remilia said heavily.  “She’ll make a full recovery.”

“Excellent,” the officer said.  “We were all devastated when we heard that she had been hurt.”

“The assassin got twenty years,” Remilia informed him.

“Seems a bit light, really,” the officer noted.

“Twenty years of waiting for release from prison, followed by a lifetime of looking over your shoulder for the Death God and the Night Haunter?” Remilia pointed out.  She smirked cruelly.  “Sounds like a punishment to me.”

The ship’s mate nodded slowly.  “In hindsight, that does sound…just.  Well.  We’re all glad to hear that she’s going to be all right.”

“So were we, believe me,” Remilia said.

Freya glanced sideways at her down the table, and tapped her finger on the surface once.  Remilia nodded agreement.

“Captain, thank you for this excellent dinner,” Venus said, apparently catching the vibe.

“My honor, Lady Venus,” Roemer said, rising to his feet and bowing courteously.  “I look forward to having you with us on our journey.”

“My gratitude,” Venus said, the weight of nobility lending the statement gravitas, and bowed formally as the party stood.  As they wended their way through the decorated stateroom, she rose and turned a smile to Isaac.

“Isaac, my old friend.  Want to pick up where we left off?” she asked, suddenly mischievous.

The serf nodded glumly, plodding over to the hatch after a perfunctory salute to the Captain.  “I guess it’s been too long coming, hasn’t it?”

“Far too long,” Venus said cheerfully.

“Well…at least allow an old man his final rest,” the serf said wearily.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, you’re younger than I am,” Venus said dismissively.  Haarlan held the hatch open for the group as they departed, walking by the guards.

“Still, I may need the night to get back into shape,” Isaac said, brushing invisible lint from his spotless black and green uniform.

Venus sighed dramatically.  “Oh, if you insist.  Be there…say, 1000 tomorrow?”

Isaac finally grinned.  “Count on it, Venus.”  The group entered the lift, he tapped the button for one of the serfs’ quartering decks.  “Wear something durable,” he said under his breath as he got off.

Roemer sat back down, pouring himself another drink.  “Well…that was different,” he said to the room.

“Royalty they may be, but kids none the less,” the psyker noted.

“Bah.  The consort of Lady Venus isn’t even a noble,” the ship’s mate pointed out.  “And such disrespect!  A bloody road trip?  Do they not know of any civilian lines to carry them to Nocturne?  This is a frontline warship!”

“Do you know of any civilian lines to carry them to Nocturne?” the Captain reasoned.  “It’s a Death World.”

“Yes, sir,” the mate allowed, “but to divert us like this, then refuse any ceremony, seems ungrateful.”

“How were we diverted, exactly?” Roemer asked.  “We were going this way anyway.”

The mate nodded, conceding the point.  Roemer continued.  “I will admit that I was surprised by the Lady’s friend.  How would she even meet a hiver?”

“Nothing wrong with hivers, Captain,” the psyker counseled.

“Well, color me surprised,” Roemer said.  “I would have thought the Lady would have chosen someone a bit…classier.”

“You don’t even know the lad,” the psyker said, standing as well.  “I am glad, however, to hear that Lady Morticia is on the road to recovery.”

“Yes, that was welcome news,” Roemer said.  “Well.  We shall have to see how this goes.  At least she seemed familiar with Sieur Isaac.”

Haarlan glanced sideways at Venus as the hatch closed.  “Have you some history with the man, my Lady?”

“He kicked the shit out of me for seven years,” Venus said with grim humor.  Haarlan stared at her, shocked.  “He was the unarmed combat instructor my father hired to teach me close quarters combat.  I never really took to it like Furia or Farah, but I learned a thing or two.”  She turned her smile on Remilia.  “I wonder if he’ll find it as easy as it was to throw me over his knee when I’m a foot taller.”

“I…see,” Haarlan said.  “Did you know he would be aboard?”

“I’m shocked.  I thought he was reassigned to Nocturne itself a long time ago,” Venus said.

“Tomorrow, on Terran Sports Network, the Rematch of the Century!” Alex said, in the voice of a sports announcer.  He leaned forward, gesturing to Venus and the now-departed serf.  “In one corner, the living volcano, in the other, some guy I just met!”

“Do kindly fuck off,” Venus said sweetly, as Jake and Remilia laughed.  Haarlan stared.  Freya sniggered behind her hand, muttering something.  Venus turned to her and cocked a brow.  “Something to add, Freya?”

“No, nothing you didn’t already know,” Freya said, all airs and modesty.  Venus’ eyes brightened and narrowed, flooding Freya’s corner of the lift with light.

“Uh huh.”  Venus slowly crossed her arms.  “That gym’s seeing some trade tomorrow…”




===Healthy Competition===

The group arrived back on the deck where they had been before and wandered back into the O-Club.  “Who’s up for a nightcap?” Freya asked, breezing through the hatch into the club.

“I’m in,” Alex said.  “Something fortifying.”  Freya smiled.

Kines was still behind the bar, deftly handing bottles and glasses out to officers crowding around him.  The crowd parted before them though, and somehow all five managed to find seats.  “Hello, Lieutenant,” Freya said cheerfully.

“Hello, Lady Russ,” Kines said.  “What can I get for you?”

“A glass of ice water, a glass of orange juice, an empty glass, and directions to the nearest dartboard,” she said cheerfully.  Remilia and Venus exchanged exasperated looks.  “I have bets to harvest.”

Kines stared, as did several of the officers around them.  “Uh.  All right…” he said, slowly filling the order.  “There’re a few dartboards in this lounge…over on the far wall,” he said, pointing.

“Superb.  I’ll be back a few hundred credits richer,” she proclaimed, taking her glasses and departing.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, my friend,” Remilia said gravely.  “Never get between Freya and anything she can turn into a competition.”

“I don’t plan to,” Kines said, back to business.  “Anything I can get you, my Lady?”

“Just a soda, I think,” Remilia said.  “We have to accommodate the young folk,” she said, waving cheerfully at Jake, the only sixteen-year-old in the room.

“Har har,” Jake grumbled.

Venus tapped a finger on her chin, looking over the selection.  “Just an orange too, I think.  Then I’m going to watch Freya put seasoned fighter pilots to shame.”

“I need to see this,” Jake said, standing and following his girlfriend across the room.

Freya was holding court, balancing the two full glasses in her hands with the empty one on a vacant stool near a dartboard.  A few officers, their expressions balanced between astonished and cautious, watched from the sidelines.  “Well?” Freya asked.  One fighter pilot stepped forward, dropping a ten-credit coin in the empty cup.

“Sure, I’ll step up,” he said.  He grabbed the blue darts and put them on the stool next to the empty cup, hefting the red ones for himself.

“Attaboy,” Freya said, grinning broadly.  She downed the orange juice in one gulp, then dropped a coin of her own in the cup, setting the empty cup down beside it.  She scooped up the blue darts and waited, eyes narrowed.

Jake crossed his arms and watched, as the pilot took a few practice swings, then unloaded the darts into the board.  His aim was above fair, and most struck near the center.  Freya nodded slowly, then stepped back.  “All right, who’s next?” she asked.

“What?  You’re not going, Lady Freya?” the pilot asked.

“Oh, I am, but I go last.  Keeps the blood out of the water until the last moment,” she said slyly.  “I’ll match any bet you care to place.”

“Oh, words,” the pilot said, though he looked like he wanted to say much more.  Several other officers stepped up to try their luck with the red darts, and a few managed to do even better than the first once had.  Freya matched each bet, until the empty glass was full of credit chips, coins, candy, and other tokens of wagers.  Finally, it was full, and she stepped up to the line as well.  She downed the ice water, which had been perspiring in her hand the whole time, and turned to face the board in profile, rolling the darts around in her free hand.

She sighted down one dart and let it go, slamming it into the board just above the center bullseye.  “Got you,” she said happily, picking up another dart.

“Got what?” Jake asked.

“The range,” she said cheerfully, and her wrist blurred.  The other darts slammed into the board like homing missiles, knocking other darts loose and filling the center of the board entirely.

The crowd went silent.  Freya made a show of breathing on her nails and wiping them off on her shoulder, as if it were not even a thing.  “All too easy.  Good game, gentlemen,” she said, picking up the cup and making to walk off.

“Ah ah ah, just a moment, madam,” a voice said from the crowd.  All eyes turned to a grizzled-looking Warrant Officer, who had been watching the spectacle since it began.  “Put that cup down, if you please.”

“Something wrong, Chief?” Freya asked, a hint of a canine growl in her voice, just…just barely loud enough to hear.

The Warrant glared at the darts on the floor.  “One more,” he said.  “Horse.”

“Hm.  Pair of balls on you, Chief,” Freya said appraisingly.  The crowd rumbled, apparently sensing blood.

“Put your money where your confidence is, my Lady, and I will too,” the Warrant said, pulling a blank card from his pocket and swiping it through his reader.  He tapped a number in, dropping it on the stool where the cup had been.  Freya picked it up and swiped it herself.

Her red eyebrows went up when she saw the number.  “Oooh, a risk-taker.  I do so approve,” she said, her voice low and thoughtful.  She looked up with a calculating gleam in her eye, staring down the challenger.  His eyes stayed level, unassuming.  She grinned suddenly, displaying her fangs.  “You’re on.”

“Good,” he said, grabbing the darts from the board and scooping up the ones from the floor.  The crowd took a few hasty steps back.  Freya and the Warrant lined up, both turning to face the board in profile.  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

Freya grinned tightly.  “Thanks,” she said quietly, and threw the first dart.  It thudded into the very center of the inner bullseye, and the Warrant nodded.

“Sure.”  He threw his own, and it knocked Freya’s loose.

Freya nodded, impressed.  “Cool.  Try this.”  She hauled off, sending one deliberately into the very highest point of the board.

The Warrant tossed his own dart, neatly knocking Freya’s out again.  “Like this?”

Freya’s eyes narrowed as the crowed oohed and aahed.  “Hmm.  Hey, this is horse, not score attack, right?”

“That’s right, yeah,” the Warrant said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Nifty,” she said, and changed her stance, now facing the board with her left hand.  “Try to keep up.”  She threw another dart, and it landed dead center of the board.

“Oh, and subterfuge is employed,” the Warrant groused.  He turned as well and threw, but the dart clattered off the wall next to the board.  The crowd broke out in applause and catcalls, with several dejected officers reluctantly passing their jubilant neighbors coins and cards of their own.

Freya preened, sliding the Warrant’s card into the cup and sticking her hand out.  “Good game, Chief,” she said happily.

He sighed, taking her hand.  “Good game.  I should have specified stance rules.”

“Should have, but you didn’t,” she noted, picking up the remaining darts on the stool and *thunking* them into the board, one by one.  “See you next time.”  She bounced over to where Jake and Alex were standing in awe.  “Kiss,” she instructed leaning out and fluttering her lashes.

Alex pecked her on the check and gathered the empty drink glasses.  “Nice job, baby.”

“Was there every any doubt?  I mean really?” she asked, walking back to the bar, lucre in hand.

“Not for a moment,” Alex said.

Jake shook his head, squeezing Venus’ hand when he returned to his seat.  “I dunno, I think that Warrant might be back for blood tomorrow.”

“Let him come, I can’t be beat at darts,” Freya said proudly.

“Mission accomplished, madam?” Kines asked, rubbing a glass clean.

“Aye aye,” Freya said, placing the cup on the counter.

Kines stared.  “Say, that’s impressive,” he said.  “I doubt you’ll find so many willing volunteers tomorrow night.”

“You said yourself that there’s other lounges aboard,” she reminded him.

“Well…the staff officers’ lounge and the enlisted lounge, sure,” Kines said.

Freya offered up a feral grin, her eyes glinting in the shifting light of the bar.  “Problem solved.”

Alex downed his tonic, washing the bitter taste down with another sip of water.  “I think it might be time to turn in, actually,” he said.

Remilia nodded, finishing her own drink.  “I think so,” she said reluctantly.  She glanced meaningfully over at Venus, who caught the hint and nodded invisibly.  Freya, beyond her, did as well, and Remilia stood up.  “Well.  Thanks for the drink, Lieutenant.  I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she said.

“My pleasure, my Lady,” Kines said warmly, waving the group farewell as they packed up to go.  Haarlan, who had sat there fielding questions and being glared at by the pilots the entire time, stood up to guide them back to their rooms.

As they exited the lounge and the ambient noise died down, Freya suddenly stopped dead.  “Fuck, hang on,” she said, turning back and making for the bar.  She jogged across the room, reaching the bar again, looking around for her cup of winnings.

“Ma’am?” Kines asked, pausing.

“The cup.  Where did it…ah,” she said, snatching up the money and other prizes.  “Almost forgot.”

“Can’t have that,” Kines observed.  “Want a bag?”

“Ha!  Why not,” Freya said, dumping her gains into the plastic bag Kines offered.  She paused before turning away.  “Actually…I was wondering.  Do you know where I can get an internal deck map?”

“Well, I’m sure Haarlan has one,” Kines said.

“I mean one of my own,” Freya said.

Kines blinked.  “Well…no, madam, the vessel’s layout isn’t exactly written down somewhere a boarder could find it,” he said.

“Oh.”  Freya cocked her head.  “Then…how do new crew get used to the ship’s layout?”

“Extensive training on simulators, and color-coded lines on the decks and bulkheads, ma’am, correlated to the rooms along the corridors,” Kines said.  “What are you trying to find?”

“The gym, if there is one,” Freya said.

Kines brightened.  “Ah.  Deck fifty nine, corridor two.  The color code is Green for quarters and recreation.  Blue is batteries, Red is command, Yellow is engines and maneuvering.  There’s also wall maps in places.”

“Great, thanks,” Freya said, grabbing the bag.  “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’ll be here.  Sleep well, my Lady,” Kines said, resuming his scrubbing.

Freya rejoined the others, bag in hand.  “Can’t leave without my bankroll!” she announced.

“Hah!  Hey, can I get some of that?  I promised Dad a souvenir,” Jake joked.

“Challenge me tomorrow, and maybe you’ll get some,” Freya said, getting into the lift.  Haarlan keyed the deck for their quarters, and they were off.  Upon arrival, the group moved to the end of the corridor, and found their rooms had been tidied up in their absence.

“All right, then.  My Lords, Ladies, I will see you on the morrow,” Haarlan said.  “Breakfast is served from 0600 to 0700, in the Captain’s Hall.”

“Are the enlisted and officers’ messes open other times?” Venus asked, pausing on the threshold of her room.

“I believe so, madam, if you would prefer a later time,” Haarlan said hesitantly.

“Not later, earlier,” Venus said.  “I get up much earlier.  But hey, that’s all right,” Venus said, noting his expression and misinterpreting it.  “I’ll just go to one of the other ones.  Good night,” she said, closing her hatch.

“See you all tomorrow,” Remilia said, moving to start her own bathroom rituals.

Freya dropped her bag in the chair by the hatch, heading for the bathroom.  “Wow, look at you,” Alex said, pawing through its contents.  “There’s gotta be six, seven hundred credits in here.”

“That last bet is a good half of it.  I almost feel bad, exerting my absolute dominance over that guy like that,” Freya said casually from the bathroom, before the closing hatch cut her off.

Alex snorted, dropping the bag and surveying the room.  It was nicely appointed; it must have served as a VIP room frequently before.

Venus’ room was identical.  She finished up in the bathroom and Jake took her place, as she pulled a sleeping shirt on.  When Jake was done, he snapped his fingers once and the lights died completely.  He made his way over to the bed and slid in, snuggling up next to Venus under the covers.  She rested her head on his shoulder, accepting a little kiss on the forehead with a contented sigh.  “Day one,” she said.

“Heh.  Yeah.”  Jake squeezed his arm around her shoulders, grinning.  “Man.  Nocturne.  I can not wait!” he said, nearly giddy.

“I’m happy you’re so excited.  I doubt there’ll be much ceremony after the first few days,” she said, closing her eyes so his world wasn’t bright red.
“Which is fine for me, as you know.  Are you looking forward to it?” he asked her.

“I am.  A few of the ceremonies are just formalities, some are more meaningful.”  She thought it over.  “Hmm…I guess you can’t actually attend some of them.  They’re specific to blood relatives of Dad, and Legionnaires.”

“Oh.  Well…all right.  I’ll just chill out somewhere.  If such a thing is possible on Nocturne,” he joked.  She chuckled softly.

“So…I hope you weren’t offended by Roemer’s little Q&A session about your origin story,” she said.

“Nah.  I surprise people.  I like that,” Jake said.  Venus laughed, bringing a smile to Jake’s lips.  She hugged him across the chest as she lay on her side, and he tugged his arm free to squeeze her hand.  “You don’t think it will happen on Nocturne itself, do you?” he asked.

“Not even once.  Believe me, compared to the way so many Nocturneans live, Terran upper hivers live like royalty anyway,” Venus said quietly.  “Now…I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

Jake squeezed her hand again, then rolled onto his side, facing his back to her, as they had found it was the most comfortable position for someone who lacked her heat tolerance.  She lay flat on her back, eyes still shut, and rested, letting the faintest sound of his heartbeat – which her augmented ears could pick up even over the ambient Warp drive noise – lull her to sleep.

Remilia slid her earplugs in and turned the light on, burying herself in her magazine and thinking over the events of the day.  The dinner had been enlightening, for sure.  She had never met a ship where psykers of lower rank than the Navigator themself was welcome at the Captain’s table.  And the complete lack of tension between Roemer and Haarlan could either be good or very bad.  A political officer and Captain who got along that well were either trusted comrades – which Kines had hinted wasn’t the case – or toadies.

She sighed in frustration, turning the light off and tossing the holomag onto the table.  Either way, it meant an interesting trip, she supposed.

Alex finished up in the bathroom, and emerged to find that the room was already pitch dark.  He grinned triumphantly, and quickly doused the lights in the bathroom too, stripping his clothes off and waiting.

Silence.  He paused, listening carefully, but she was completely quiet.  He stepped forward, wondering if she was even playing their game.  Then, the faintest noise, someone shifting their balance on the carpeted deck, caught his ear, directly in front of him.

He nodded.  His heart rate spiked.  He felt himself harden up as he walked quietly, adrenaline running through his limbs.  He moved as silently as he could, not even trying to hide from her senses, but still playing the role.  Finally, he paused, a few inches from where he had heard her, and raised his arms slightly.

He heard the sound from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.  Darkness.  Then…suddenly, it was in front of him again, and he felt her hair brush against his outstretched hands.  He moved his hands together, and felt the solid racks of muscle along her flanks.  She slid into his arms, pressing her entire back against his front, and clasping her hands over his.  “Have you ever had sex in the Warp?” he asked, his voice rough and throaty.  “Because…my god, you’re about to.”

“Not yet,” she whispered softly.  “Show me how.”

And he did.


Freya cradled the cup of water she’d brought from the bathroom in her hands, listening to Alex slow down.  More than just coming down from the peak, he was relaxing.  She hadn’t told him what it sounded like, or that she listened, but she did.  She let her super-human senses tell her a story.
His heart was slowing a little, his pulse was quieting.  As it did, the tiny movements in his skin from pulsing blood grew less distinct.  His skin lightened as his circulation slowed, and his bare chest settled as he took shallower breaths.  She waved the light down and watched as his eyelids relaxed.  As the adrenaline in his body faded away, the melatonin of late night and endorphins of the afterglow seeped through him, relaxing his muscles and tendons.

She took a sip from her cup, listening.  The sound of his breath and heartbeat both slowed, growing more sluggish, as he drifted off to sleep.  The muscles in his tongue and jaw tightened, just a tiny bit.  She smiled, looking down at his body on the mattress next to her.  He was familiar.
She had asked her father once if actual wolves had senses that refined.  He had said no; that she and his battle-brothers were even better, and special.  They were more than their namesake, and more than human.  Freya didn’t know if that was true or not, and probably never would.  But she enjoyed them for what they were.

Freya wasn’t a psyker.  She couldn’t sense the instant his mind was freed from activity and released into dreams.  But she could smell his pheromones, and she could hear his heartbeat as clear as a bell.  And when he fell asleep, she smiled to herself again.  “I love you,” she whispered, so quietly that even she could barely hear it.  He didn’t stir.

Freya drank the rest of the water and cleaned herself off with a handful of tissue.  She tossed it in the trash and slipped silently under the covers, pushing her braids out from under her head.  Even with the lights off, and the room almost absolutely dark, she could see, just a little.  When she played their game, she couldn’t actually see him all that well, in the darkness of a ship cabin; the way she found him was the way she eluded him.  She used her hearing, which didn’t need a medium more complex than atmosphere, and even if he was still she could hear him perfectly.  When he walked into the room blind, she could catch him.  She’d never hurt him, of course.  She had vastly more control than that.  But she had inherited more than her namesake’s senses and competitive attitude.  She was playful, and the thrill of eluding him and letting him catch her – or not – felt better than nearly anything they did afterwards.

She turned her head slightly, and watched his chest expand and contract as he breathed.  She could hear the rush of air, and even smell the air he exhaled.  She watched his skin darken as his heart pushed blood through him, and lighten as he pulled it back through his veins.  The ventilation system of the room pulled the smell of their mating away, replacing it with the flat, sterile air of the ship, and his head tilted towards the air vent slightly.

Freya closed her eyes, and listened to Alex sleep.  “Thanks for playing,” she whispered.  “Good night, Alex.”