Rekhel I: Convent of the Burning Heart, Auxiliary GarrisonThe first time Bell caught the redhead looking, it she had dismissed it. Her nickname was "Creep" but Bellatrix wouldn't judge. Creep also kept away from the rest of the girls, reason enough for Bellatrix to take a liking to her. So she dismissed it the first time. People might lose themselves in thought, might not understand what they're looking at. The second time she caught her, Bell gave her a significant glance to let her know it was unwelcome. The third time she saw it, she called her on it.
"You got a problem keeping your eyes to yourself, cunt?"
Everybody else in the shower turned. The redhead's face went the same color as her hair, she sent her eyes to the floor immediately.
"Looks like the Creep's got herself a new reason to masturbate." Hili giggled.
"It'd be the first time she was interested in a man! You ought to be proud of yourself, Ogryn." Frygath said.
Bell had had enough of this garbage. She had tried to make friends. She really had. Sat in all the gossip circles in the mess hall, read all the same groxshit magazines about what the celebrities were up to these days, had tried to listen to the meaningless, uninformed opinions around her. But this was it. She finally snapped.
"At least Creep CAN masturbate, unlike the rest of you!"
Smiles vanished all around Bellatrix.
"What's that mean?"
"It means I'm showering with a bunch of schoolgirls, is what! Creep is the only one here who's less concerned with how her hair looks than how to handle a weapon!" Bellatrix half-shouted. "It means I know why you lot are all in here, and I'm not fragging impressed, is what it means! I'm the only one in here for violent offenses, the rest of you are here because you couldn't handle your shit! Can't handle finances to save your life, can't hold a job for more than a week, can't go a year without gross charges of negligence resulting in some sort of property damage! In short, you're all in here because you never left Base Education behind! Debt evasion, stealing, vandalism. Petty small time garbage that no self respecting adult would be caught dead doing, but you don't mind because you haven't bothered to grow up! " "
Bellatrix shoved her way through a mess of flesh to get to the locker rooms, giving her body a cursory wipe down with the woefully inadequate towel before throwing on her clothes. How did this end up happening? She had heard horror stories even in prison about how ruthless and psychotic those in penal battalions could be. She had heard stories of beheadings by fellow battalion members, unpopular inmates getting skinned alive, eyes gouged out, genitals mutilated and more.
And then there were the Rekhel Resulka's: more fit for cleaning graffiti off buildings than to be storming hostile positions. More worried about the lack of nail polish than the fact that they didn't know how to clean a lasgun. Absolutely un-fragging-believable.
"I'm sorry for staring."
Oh great. Bellatrix didn't bother turning. She had seen enough female skin for the day.
"It's fine." She said tersely, lacing up her combat boots.
"No, it's not fine. I know it weirds people out. It's...I mean...sorry. I'm sorry I'm a woman who likes other women and I got thrown in here with the rest of you. I shouldn't have. It makes all of you uncomfortable, and I know it."
"It's certainly not natural, that's for sure. But I also figure there's nothing you can do about it." Bellatrix grunted. "Girls in my facility managed to get themselves stabbed over it, I gave up believing that it's somehow your fault. Nobody risks a shanking over a sexual deviancy. Getting stabbed hurts, take it from somebody who knows."
"Is that your way of telling me that you'll cut me if you catch me staring at you again?" The redhead asked nervously.
"I didn't mean it like that, but now that I think about it, it doesn't seem like the worst idea I've heard. So yeah, next time keep your eyes to yourself or I'll use you for bayonet practice. That being said, please don't make me do it, or I'll be left alone with these twits and I may have to slit my own wrists if that's the case."
"Well, you may want to lay off the death threats, you're not making any friends here. It's bad enough that the medicae doesn't know what she's doing, it won't help if she accidentally-on-purpose lets you bleed out if you take a shell fragment to the throat."
"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind."
"And my name's Jillian. Jill for short. Not Creep. And yours is Bellatrix."
Bellatrix looked at her with a grin.
"What, you don't like the naming conventions around here? I was just getting used to the idea of being called Ogryn. At least the little brats have some idea that I could crush their skulls any time I want to. Going back to a regular name seems almost disrespectful, from that way of looking at it."
"Yeah, well Creep insinuates that I'll follow them into their bunks and violate them in the middle of the night, so I don't much appreciate it."
"Then change it. Or embrace it. It's much more gratifying when they think you're going to sneak into their bunks and slit their fragging throats, isn't it? It'll shut them up real fast. If they fear you for your sexuality, then take full advantage of it, I say. Let them think you're going to flay them and use their skin for a sweater or something, and they'll actually stay out of your way instead of jeering at you at every opportunity."
Jillian sighed.
"Surprise surprise, not everyone wants to be feared, you know. Some of us just want a little respect."
Bellatrix finished lacing her boots and turned around to find Jill half-clothed. At least she was covered now. Bellatrix, while being a mature adult, didn't like looking at nude women any more then she liked eating the same food at every meal time.
"You're not gonna find it until you earn it. Do things. Hard things. Do things that nobody else is willing or able to do. Keep running when other people stagger. Make it a point to stare into the corner when you're showering. Read the manuals till you know the Chimera inside & out. I don't earn respect because frankly I don't want any. These girls aren't worth earning respect from. But I know what I respect, and that is somebody who takes then time to make a place for themselves instead of just waiting for everybody else to just move aside and acknowledge them."
Jayne sideways looked at her while buckling her pants. "You don't want any respect from them? Is that why you sat with them all lunch hour yesterday, listening to them talk about Prince Holgan's dress coat?" she asked casually.
For a moment Bellatrix didn't know what to say and began tripping over her words. "I-..ugh, fucking...you know what? I know why you're called The Creep now. Do you ever stop just watching people? Like, what the actual fuck? If you want respect, why do you just lurk in the shadows and leer at people and eavesdrop on them?"
The other woman's face flushed in anger. "I like company. I like companions. I just don't like talking is all! Does everybody constantly feel the need to yammer at all hours of the day, huh? Does nobody but me find silence refreshing? Does all silence have to be pregnant and awkward and shameful?"
This conversation was getting to be trying, and Bell was already on a short fuse. "No, but friendship, like any type of relationship, requires an element of trust. When you're silent, people take it to mean that you're secretive. When you're secretive, it means you've got something to hide. When you've got something to hide, nobody trusts you and you don't earn any friends. You've got to open up and make yourself at least a little vulnerable if you want people to trust you."
Jillian finished pulling down her shirt and gave Bellatrix a look of disgust. "Right, because calling everyone a cunt, telling them that they're immature, and then threatening their lives is going to earn you so many friends! Like you've got some moral high ground to talk down from on the subject of friendship!"
With that, Jillian stormed out of the locker room. Bellatrix heard titters from the showers and immediately knew that the whole crowd of them had been clustered around the door, eavesdropping. It took all of her self control not to storm back there and begin beating every one of them to red paste.
{Line Break Here.}
Tau Gal'eath Battleship Hann'ie: Deep Space to the South of Rekhel.
H'wann was ecstatic. His very own drone, bought from the Tech Syndicate. It was a humble little thing with the barest combat routines, and had cost him the better part of his month's pay. And it had no equipment on it beyond the anti-grav unit that would keep it aloft. But it was his.
Never before could a Tau buy his own combat drone, they had been regulated to peacekeeping or military personnel only. But now anybody could own one. Not many people wanted one of course, usually one simply gave some money to one of the private security firms on the Fleet, and drones could be a hand full if you didn't know all the tech involved and how to maintain them.
But H'wann did. And whatever he didn't know, he vowed he would learn. And of course, it gave him something to talk about at work.
Thankfully, his friend Ir'yr had taken over the computer systems, letting H'wann patrol his seven-corridor path along the ship like any other guard. Ir'yr had everything up to speed in no time, and H'wann's helmet had been updated with route maps, relevant updates on altercations or deployment changes, lists of usual trouble makers (which were thankfully few in this sector), and even a list of establishments that had cropped up onboard. Most were simply kiosks in the corridors, but once in a while there was an open storage unit that somebody leased from the captain to make an impromptu shop. All in all, H'wann was too busy looking at all the new curiosities to feel like a security guard.
Fortunately, his coworker Krogeck was with him to forcibly drag him away every time he became enamored with some bauble or new piece of tech that some low-income Earth Builder was peddling. Krogeck had moved in from a neighboring Kroot Warsphere, drawn by promises of tau flesh to consume.
H'wann didn't know how he felt about that. The idea of somebody actually eating a tau made him squeamish to the point where he actively avoided the thought of it. In the Old System, it had been expressly forbidden for Kroot to dine on tau flesh. But to many Kroot, they viewed this new change as one might view a sudden windfall. Like new folks in the neighborhood who already knew the local customs and were prepared to integrate themselves into the community by being good Samaritans and helping their neighbors. H'wann couldn't deny that the Kroot had made themselves much friendlier now that the taboo had been lifted.
Luckily, each Tau could expressly state in his After Death Notice that his body would be disposed of in proper manner. H'wann had very promptly checked the "Customary Cremation" box upon receiving his ADN Card. To this day, H'wann was unaware of anyone who had checked the "Auction organs to various medical or miscellaneous firms" option.
Unluckily, Krogeck wouldn't shut up about the thought of eating a Tau corpse, and had repeatedly asked H'wann very pointedly about which option he had chosen on his After Death Notice. Finally, H'wann asked him about it. "Why does it matter? What do Kroot even get from eating Tau anyways? What do you want from our genes? Our intellect? Our eyesight? Our pheromones?"
To which Krogeck had responded "Your lack of humor, possibly."
If there had been some sort of joke there, H'wann had missed it. Finally, Krogeck shook his head vigorously, the equivalent to a sigh, and asked H'wann what he had heard of The Settlement Rumor. The Settlement Rumor was exactly that: A rumor that the fleet of the An'caa would soon settle a world.
Many Tau had been clamoring for it since the Great Division. The fleet of the An'Caa had been fugitives since Ge'on G'alt's speech on the rejection of the Greater Good. To this day it was unknown if they were being pursued, but regardless it was widely thought that the Fleet had to settle a world of it's own sooner or later. The growth of the fleet was extraordinarily limited for as long as the An'Caa remained fleet based.
The problem was that no world had yet been found. All worlds had been classified as too dangerous and unpleasant, or already taken by some other race. Taking worlds belonging to the Imperium would bring swift retribution that the An'Caa could ill afford. Taking worlds belonging to the Orks would bring Waaagh. But the public perception was steadily shifting. The Tau among the fleet were aging, and wished to start families before it was too late and they became infertile, leading to a growing feeling of anxiety. The commonly held opinion now was that the fleet should risk war with the Orks, and try to scrape by on rugged determination and the ingenuity that necessity always brought. Several senior corporations had pledged that they would settle the next habitable world with or without Ge'on G'alt's support.
Happy to be off the subject of the culinary practices of the Kroot, H'wann acknowledged that he had spent some time on the public forums. H'waan had merely been a child when the split had happened, but it had taken some considerable time for all the Tau to come around to the idea of a total dissolution of the caste system. In fact, many of the older generation still believed that The Split had been a bad idea, but had only now finally accepted it as the new direction of their lives whether they liked it or not. The newest cycle of rumors held that Ge'on Galt now had an outside benefactor backing the An'caa settlement venture. If that was true, then it was a huge relief for all involved. The fleet held several thousand tau souls, and even more auxiliaries. But it was a very large galaxy out there, and even a small Tyranid splinter fleet might dwarf their numbers a hundred to one. Outside help would be very welcome.
"Did you know that we will most likely be called to fight if we settle?" Krogeck asked. H'wann snapped his gaze from a very nice warsuit on display to his right. "What? How? Why?"
Krogeck chuckled. "Why so concerned, Tau? Did you not join security for the action?" the Kroot asked.
This was something H'wann couldn't answer. True, he had joined for action. At least, that's what he liked to believe. Had he just wanted the shiny suit and gun, like some juvenile looking to play hero? H'wann didn't like to believe it. But most people didn't like to believe negative things about themselves. "I like to think I would be able to save lives. Technically my family belongs to the Water Caste. Maybe I was just being nonconformist, rebelling against my parents. But I hope that's not the case. I just wanted to help, in all honesty, and the Fire Caste caught my eye. Before we dissolved the caste system, that is." He confessed.
If Krogeck cared about H'wann's inner dilemma, he didn't show it. "We're part of Firing Solutions Security. Firing Solutions Security is a subsidiary of Dragon Force Enterprises." H'wann reeled. Dragon Force Enterprises, often shortened to DFE, was one of the leading corporations pledging it's support on colonization.
"Oh." H'wann said, rather weakly.
"You better get your personal feelings squared away, Tau. If we settle an Orkish world, we're going to be on the front lines. Orks aren't smart, but they don't play nice and they fight to the last one standing. I don't want to be fighting next to a kid who has half a mind to throw down his gun and run to mommy about how he made the wrong employment decisions." Krogeck said impassively, as if he didn't really care despite his personal stake in the issue.
H'wann inhaled deeply. "I'll get on it" he said, with more confidence than he really felt. Whether he liked it or not, he had pledged three years of his life regardless of his personal feelings on the issue. He could quit if he was ok with accepting the contract penalty...which was a lot of money.
The rest of the shift passed in silence. Krogeck no longer had to pull his coworker away from displays, as H'wann was too busy stewing in what he would do and how he would go about doing it. Spending time on training manuals on the onboard forums suddenly sounded like a very good idea. That and the training sims suddenly seemed like they were worth spending money on. The Hann'ie still had all of it's training decks fully operational, but they required resources to keep them in good condition. Since everything was now privatized, funding came in the form of service charges. One could pay single-use fees for a single scenario run, 10-hour fees (Measured in time actually spent training in the sims), 25-hour fees, 50 hour fees, or 100-hour fees for the truly ambitious.
There were cliques of Fire warriors who usually spent time in the training decks, the so-called "Sim-rats" who were there day after day. H'wann didn't like them, they looked down their noses at anyone who couldn't pull sufficient scores in the sims, and they usually weren't in any mood to help. It was for this reason H'wann had avoided the training decks, but now he was considering buying a 10-hour time pack. That is, once you get your next check. You don't have any money after buying that drone...Gah. This was going to take some consideration. Note to self, read the fine print before accepting job offers he thought to himself darkly.
Eldar Craftworld Jusai-Iex Deep Space to the South East of RekhelNot as planned.
That was all Onshin could think as he paced in his room. A harlequin. A harlequin on the Vet-Ala.
For the first time since his engagement with Fharzan all those years ago he felt...humiliated.
Onshin had taken the path of the Autarch quite purposefully from the beginning. It was actually one of the few paths one could choose from the outset of their Coming of Age. And Onshin had...well, not relished it... But everyone had told him that he had such drive, motivation, and integrity. And especially among the egalitarian Eldar, such words were never said without weight. Whenever Onshin spoke, heads turned. He had become complacent in his position as Autarch, and now he cursed himself for it. He had simply become so accustomed to being assured in his decisions. He had grown...
Prideful.
At he now felt disgusted with himself. Despite what others thought, it was indeed possible for Eldar to have their ego punctured. And like all emotions Eldar felt, they felt it much more keenly and more deeply than others. Not many beings could make an Eldar feel ashamed. But then, not many beings were Harlequins.
Suffice to say, Vet-Ala would be joining the fight against Fharzan and the Flensed Corpse. Not because they needed to, not because they had been handed orders from the Harlequins to...
To...
"...to save the Jusai-Iex craftworld from the arrogance of a single juvenile boy so attuned to his personal vendettas that he could not see the death of his own Craftworld in a trap of his own making."The Fates of the Farseers had been correct: They would win the coming engagement, there would be no doubt of it. But not because of the brilliant cunning of Onshin, the Dark Kindred's Bane. Not because of his tactical brilliance or his courageous leadership or his web of intrigue. No, it was only because if the Harlequin had not tugged the Strings of Fate then nothing would be left of Jusai-Iex than a smoldering hulk of wraithbone adrift in space.
And to top the blow, Onshin now had a debt of honor to pay the Necromancers. They had fully intended to deny his request for help. They had been content to let Jusai-Iex to engage the horde of coming Dark Eldar alone, which ultimately would have destroyed them. If a Harlequin had not personally intervened on Onshin's account, he would have led his craftworld straight into the maw of it's own destruction. They were saving his craftworld. His craftworld, who had been so enamored with Onshin's brilliance years before in the first outmaneuvering of the Flensed Corpse that they had given him undue deference in his Path.