Fracture - Book One of the Glass Galaxy Trilogy

Chapter 14: Grezma

April 16th

10:40 AM

We sat together in the cafeteria eating breakfast, garbed in our new uniforms. They were the same dark-grey as Viliana's combat armor, with little adornment aside from an epaulet on each shoulder to denote rank, and they were deceptively comfortable. They were semi-form-fitting, similar to Teracon armor, and while they weren't exactly air-conditioned, they didn't make me feel like I was laying inside an oven, so I was pleased with them.

And I had to admit that I felt significantly more professional now.

I watched a group of pirates eating on the other side of the cafeteria, and I noticed that they were sitting straighter, jostling each other less, and talking much calmer than usual: they were feeling more professional too.

"I'm not sure that I like this," complained Reaper. "If I wanted to be a faceless cog in a machine then I would go live in the Alliance or something."

I looked at her. She had washed up, doing up her long dirty-blonde hair in a bun, and it made the scars on her face stand out even more. On first glance she looked like a clean, professional soldier, but a closer look would reveal the sharpness in her eyes, the razor-glare that she viewed the world through, and it was impossible to miss the caution that underpinned her every move. She still didn't fully trust me and what I was doing with the station, but that was fine. So long as she continued to help me, I didn't care if she hated me.

"You're not becoming a faceless cog," I responded, "you're becoming a disciplined professional. You can see for yourself the effect that the uniforms are having on the crew." I motioned towards the group sitting away from us. Then a thought popped into my head. "But maybe it might be more effective if you didn't wear the uniform..."

Everyone looked at me confused.

"Reaper," I explained, "you discipline your crew with force, right?"

She nodded, "Of course. It's the most effective way to get someone to do something that will risk their life."

I returned her nod, "Then maybe it would be better if you and your sergeants weren't wearing the uniform. Your all-black armor: you wear that partially for intimidation, right?"

"Among other things, yeah," she answered.

"Well I think that we should make you your own uniform. One that's pure black so that the crew knows to listen to your authority." I could see in her eyes that she liked knowing that she still had authority.

"I could do that," Aria chimed in. "I should be able to make black dye using the ore we've mined."

"Put me down for one of those black uniforms, too," said Abaddon.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "You didn't strike me as a disciplinarian type."

He laughed, "Oh no, I'm not. I just think that I look better in black."

"Then no," I said. "The black uniforms will be reserved for disciplinarians. I'll leave it to you to decide who will be a member, Reaper."

She nodded, a malicious smile twisting her face, "Good."

I took a bite of my omelette, the foreign meats and vegetables inside significantly tastier than the nutrient-bars I had to eat on my ship.

"So how long till the Grezma are supposed to get here?" I asked Reaper.

She swallowed down a bite of her omelette, "They said they'd be here around the 20th, so we've still got a few days."

"Is there anything that they're particularly interested in?" I asked. "We need their help so it would be a good idea to prepare an extra gift for them in advance."