Omoikane 06 Anarcho-Musari

Omoikane 06 - Anarcho-Musari

The slaves the slave boat was carrying were little people.  To me, they looked like dwarf ovids.  Sheep people, but small and cute.  And small, cute dog people.

I wanted to sit down among these people and pet them.  

The dog folk mixed themselves among the sheep people, then carefully reinforced them, and gently moved them back.  They were protecting their friends.

I caught Stephanie's eye.  We were both having the same reaction to these guys.  Not a diplomatically appropriate one.

"My name is Jay,"  I said, "I'm the Captain of this ship. I am pleased to meet you.  Where would you like us to take you?"

And some snuffling and discussion, one of the Dog Folks came forward.  He was large among the Dog people, so he was almost 120 centimeters tall and weighed about 35 kilograms.  He was black and tan and had pointy ears.  He was built a little chunky.  Not fat, but stout for his size.

"If it pleases you, Sir,  we're from Pequadela. We'd much appreciate a ride there."

I turned to the screen in the transporter room and called up the local charts.  Pedquadela wasn't much of a deviation from our course.  It was marked as Boa-Olavax territory.

"Hailey to the bridge.  Once we're underway, our course will be for Pequadela, I've highlighted it."

"Aye, Sir."

I took a deep breath to control my reaction. "Alright, the next step is medical.  Is anyone injured?  Tell us what you need to be comfortable."

Looks all around: "Food, water, a safe place to take a nap.  Our captors were not especially nice to us, Jay."

The Sheep folks were called the Fuufta.  Their home world was under the domination of the Agusopan bird people.  They weren't eager to return there.

Of course, the Pequadela folks adopted them immediately.  And it felt like it would make the dog people sad to separate them from their friends.

As a Starfleet Officer, I always figured there would be tough parts to diplomacy.  But resisting the urge to snuggle with a potentially allied species was just weird.

Later, we discovered, of course, the quarters set up they preferred were communal, with pillows and soft furniture to lounge and snuggle on.

Fortunately for us,  they considered humanoids coming in to join the fun a grand time and perfectly appropriate.

-*-

In sick bay, they had two different holographic doctors working with the medical staff.

Zellan Hobolisk was working on one of the Mussari Crew.  A Mouse woman, with a burned, mangled arm. She sat in one of the medical beds.  It looked more like a dentist chair in that configuration.

"Doctor, how are we doing?"

"Well, emergency post-combat medicine on eight different species, including three I've never seen before and two others I've only read about,"  

Hobolisk was an older Tanaki man, his linoleum-like scales darkening with a purple undertone. He looked like a human wrapped in a snake. He was dressed in a fashion I'd call Starfleet casual.  His pants and boots were standard issue.  He was wearing a lavender high-necked short-sleeved t-shirt.  That was from two Starfleet uniforms ago.  Then he had the blue jacket Starfleet Doctors liked to wear. His had pockets, and the pockets were full of medical tools and gear.  He was also wearing a belt with a lot of stuff attached to it.  He had a scanner frame that looked like old-fashioned sunglasses.

He shot me a sideways grin. "I love it."

"Those buttons on your shirt,"  The Musari woman said, "That's rank markings, right?"

"Yes, ma'am.  I'm Captain Hailey, the commanding officer."

"So this guy has to do whatever you say?" She threw a nod at Dr. Hobolisk.

I made a face. "That's the theory."  

He looked at her over his scanner, making the glasses analogy even more apt. "I can overrule him on medical issues.  Like telling you to hold still, please." Hobolisk said.  Neither one of us said anything, but it hung in the air between us.  If Hobolisk thought I was off base, he'd tell me to fly a kite in a heartbeat.

He'd gone through Starfleet training and Starfleet officers' training, and then quickly abandoned every part he didn't want to use.

I liked him a good deal.  I was dreading the day when something Starfleet and official clashed with his good-natured casualness.  

"Why would anyone do that?  Offer up their will and volition to you like that?"

I took a deep breath. "It doesn't work like that unless there's a serious crisis.  We found that for my people, during an emergency or, say, combat, it's useful to have one person in charge, giving orders to resolve the problem.  The rest of the time, we're here because we want to be.  We agree to do things the Starfleet way so we can go do Starfleet things."

"What if someone thinks you're wrong?"

"Well, under normal conditions, part of my job is to hear what my crew people think and then make an informed decision based on what they tell me."

"Except under red alert."  

"Yeah, when things are dangerous, then we may not have time for discussion and consensus building. When we've worked together for a long time, we understand each other.  My crew understands me and why I make the decisions I do.  I understand them and how they like to do things and what they're good at."

"And what if someone refuses to do what you say?"

"That could be bad.  Remember, we agreed to do things the Starfleet way before we started. So. If, sometime during the trip, if one of my people decides they don't like doing things the Starfleet way anymore, or if they decide I am hopelessly misguided, they can quit."

"Except during a red alert."

"Yeah, in a fight or other crisis, starting an argument or refusing to follow orders can get people killed.  So that's really bad.  We try not to do that."

"What happens to someone who refuses to follow orders during a red alert?"

"Then we throw them in the brig until a court martial can be convened."

She shook her head, "Crazy."

I wondered how the Musari raider ran at all. "How do your people do it?"

"Well,  Raada said let’s go raid and steal from the slavers because, like, fuck slavery, right? And we were all yeah, fuck slavery."

"How did you know what job to do?"

"I'm a weapons tech.  It's my thing.  I like to do it. I especially like making big guns shoot better at tyrants and slavers."

"And you trust Raada to make good decisions when there's fighting?"

"Yeah.  He has a track record."

"What happens if someone decides he's wrong in the middle of a fight?"

"Well, we try not to do that, either, so we'll encourage the dissenter to wait until later.  But if he really disagrees, he can go sit out.

If he tries to interfere, then I have to decide if I want to stun him, or just kick his ass until he stops making trouble."

"So, how long have you signed on for?"

"Well, every time we get to Musari or a friendly world, you have to decide if you want to keep going or cash out.  Some crews that have been together for a long time might elect new captains and quartermasters.

Raada's old crew is pretty loyal to him, so I figured, why not give it a shot?”

"Wow,"  I said.  It sounded like old accounts of some pirates on Earth. It also sounded precarious and likely to fail under pressure.  I didn't say any of that.  Diplomacy.

"Yeah.  We're free.  We go where we want when we want."

I nodded, "I will bear that in mind.  What's next?"

She thought about it. "We need to make some money to pay for the trip and the repairs.  Probably once you're gone, we'll see if we can catch up to that Orion Fuck and take his ship.  Selling that to Agusoapans will make a nice haul."

I nodded, "Okay.  Good luck."

Bloodthirsty anarchist mouse people.  Stay in Starfleet long enough and you'll see everything.