12y, 3m AV
Rooney’s Pub
Champion and Sergeant Daar of Clan Stoneback
Daar most certainly did not slack on his training. As with the Whitecrest Brothers he learned quickly and grew faster, stronger, and more cunning on a nearly daily basis under the skilled and relentless tutelage of Warhorse, Rebar, Snapfire, and crew. Daar’s own progress shocked him; the isolating exercises especially proved a breakthrough, enabling him to blast through old injuries and existing limits like he was thirty-five years younger and at the cusp of adulthood. He gained weight and muscle tone almost as fast as he could eat, dropped what little unhealthy excess mass he had, and improved across all dimensions of his physical ability so quickly and so completely he could only look back ruefully at the years of opportunity missed without the training insights he’d learned.
Clearly, Clan Stoneback had much to learn from the Humans. They treated pain as an old friend and used medical science to its best advantage. Gone was the notion of “toughing it out” in Daar’s mind, and in its place was a more calculated science, one adapted to maximize Gaoian ability.
He enthused about this excitedly with ‘Horse and ‘Base as everyone else watched amusedly; meatheads will be meatheads and that seemed to cut even across species. How could his Clan have gone so long without such an obvious approach to training? What else had they missed? Regaari only chittered ruefully and explained the facts of Human life.
“Not only are they better than us, Cousin, but they can make us better too. It is simultaneously inspirational and humbling.”
“But we have much to teach them in return,” objected Daar as he took another swig of his beer. “We’ve seen that many times!”
“Indeed. And then these fine gentlemen,” he waved his paw expansively at the gathered SOR cadre, “They will take those lessons, greatly improve upon them, then re-teach us our own knowledge far better than we ever managed!” He grinned as he said it; he was not particularly bitter or resentful about any of it—not anymore—but he felt a bit cowed by the experience nonetheless.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Dex.” Baseball reached over and roughly noogied Regaari’s crest in precisely the way it irritated the snarky Gaoian. “We both learn a shitload outta this. Ain’t that good?”
“And you fellas are the best wingman that there ever was, too.” Sikes gave a lecherous grin. He and Daar had, over many beers, formulated one of the most ridiculously transparent come-on routines anyone on the team had ever seen, and to the frustration of Gaoian and Human alike, it was tremendously successful. They watched as Daar ambled over to a group of attractive human females while Sikes sat behind with the group, attempting to act as nonchalant as possible.
Firth—himself a man with an impressive record of romantic success—was the first to open fire. “Heh, so entry level. I mean, I’m not mockin’ it, but the pet dog routine has been around forever.”
And sure enough, a glance over at Daar showed him chatting and chittering with the ladies, who were by that time fascinated by his chest and head fur. They paid him an almost obscene amount of attention and he drank it up like the happy, simple being he was.
Neither Regaari nor the rest of the Brothers took much offense to the comparison. Perhaps they might have, months ago, before their perfect immersion in human culture and its quirky worldview…but no longer. Nor would Daar take offense. In fact, he seemed to embrace it. He was dog-like in many ways, so why should the comparison be objectionable? The humans saw many positive qualities in Daar and his fellows and projected those qualities through an adopted canine affection. It was meant well! Why such consternation about “civilized” behavior, especially when it was actively detrimental to doing?
The “civilized” Clans could stand to get a little dirty now and then.
“I note he’s consistently luckier than any of us right now,” remarked Titan. Another glance over at Daar revealed the three ladies were now aww’ing and complimenting him, scritching deeply in his chest and stomach fur, and affectionately rubbing his ears and neck. His eyes were closed, his tongue hung out of his mouth, and his tail wagged furiously. He even grumbled happily like Bozo did from a particularly good belly rub.
Regaari had to look away. There were limits to the Brothers’ indulgence.
The humans did not notice. “Well, I mean, he is pretty as fuck.” Firth grinned a toothy, shit-eating grin. “Just look at ‘dem cheeks, all blushin’ n’ shit!”
“Guys…”
Sikes was much like Arés in that he had an easy trigger for embarrassment. For him it was any remark on just how painfully country-boy handsome he was, even with his almost grotesquely enormous muscles that were the pride and price of any SOR operator.
“What? It’s true. The silly boy is just too good-looking for his own good.” Firth nodded towards Daar, still in the throws of scritchy bliss.
“Wait, who are you talking about, Daar or Sikes?”
“Yes.”
The men all nodded their heads in agreement. Sikes blushed harder. At that moment Daar came quite literally bouncing over like a giant, hulked-out Tigger, excited to share his new friends. His movement was very unlike the other Gaoians; he was perfectly at home on his hind legs, on all fours, or some flowing transition between the two. It gave his movement a very purposeful, organic, and competent feel that, frankly, the Whitecrest Brothers seemed bound and determined to avoid.
At least, they avoided it whenever other Gaoians were present. Alone with SOR and their fellows? They too moved like a Gaoian was clearly meant to move. It was their guilty pleasure and a thing they sorely missed whenever they returned home. Which, it must be said, maddened them to no end.
“Snapfire, look! I made friends! This is Stephanie,” he gestured with his huge paw, “And this is Melissa, and this is Ashley!” He looked back, “Did I pronounce them right?”
“Yes!” Stephanie giggled as Sikes gave her a slightly embarrassed, boyish grin. “And who are these?” Daar had scored a hit if the happy faces were a tell. It was surprisingly easy to read the humans when one could smell their mating pheromones, and of course, there were enough similarities between species that Daar could make educated guesses at who would like whom.
Accurate guesses, by the scent of things. All the Gaoians could smell his success. Daar practically purred with happiness. “These are my friends, and they’re the best men you’ll ever meet.”
The Brothers left the humans to their devices. After Daar got goodbye hugs. And more scritches.
The Gaoians left the humans alone to make acquaintances with each other, which, to Daar’s resounding credit, seemed to be progressing quite well. The general feeling was not overtly primal like so many evenings; instead it was perfectly innocent and friendly. As the Brothers left there was talk about going for a walk around town, maybe seeing a movie at the local theater. Or, perhaps, just a nice evening in the park, talking and holding hands.
A delightful idea! One the Gaoians decided to copy. They went to the small park near the Alien Quarter which was slowly becoming a preserve of native life from many worlds, including Cimbrean. It was beautiful, pleasant, a protected island away from Deathworld life, a serene fairy tale in the midst of something far more beautiful and terrifying.
It was favored by the Gaoians for it’s delicate and simple aesthetic. It was also an ideal space for the small detachment from Clan of Females who had recently arrived. Many friendships and mating contracts blossomed in public spaces where Gaoians could meet in friendly surroundings. This park seemed particularly good, for several new Mothers were already with cub. The detachment was mostly young and adventurous Sisters just entering their age, dipping their claws in the waters of the mating game.
A pleasant and peaceful place, all told, which made Faarek’s outburst more than a little inappropriate.
“You are truly without shame.”
Daar ignored the accusatory tone and grumbled happily to himself, pleased to see everyone around him socializing so well. “Of course! I’d do anything to help my Brothers win mating contracts. I mean, it wasn’t hard, really. All I had to do was get the best belly rub of my entire life. What’s not to like?”
“But…A belly rub, Daar. You were practically mating with them!”
“Fah, it ain’t anything to humans. It was perfectly innocent!” He gave an amused and defiant little growl. “Besides, she smells wrong for a mating urge anyway. It was just…nice. Really, really nice. You should try it!”
That seemed to upset Faarek beyond his capacity for self restraint. “How can you disgrace yourself like this!? You prostrate like one of their pets for their amusement and wallow in their conceit. It’s as if—”
Daar growled dangerously. Every Gaoian in the park noticed immediately and watched the sudden confrontation keenly.
“I do what I do, Brother, because that is who and what I am. I do not pretend to be anything but a talking animal.” He growled deeper, “I don’t really care what you think.”
He crouched back on his hind legs, ready to accept a Challenge. The crowd was deathly silent.
Faarek flattened his ears and snarled for a moment. His fire was up and he, too, was primed for a fight, quixotic though it may be. But a thought struck him right at the moment he was prepared to attack. He visibly calmed and regarded Daar with a contemplative eye.
This confused Daar. “…What?”
“You…just called me Brother.”
Daar paused and regarded Faarek warily. “I…guess I did.” There was really only one word to convey the sudden confusion. “Fuck.”
“So…are we Brothers, Daar?”
Daar stood, paralyzed with indecision. There as a long, pregnant pause. But finally, Daar deflated and slumped to the ground, all aggressive energy gone. “Yeah. I think so. An’ I don’t fight Brothers. Ever. Against Stoneback code.”
Cautiously, Faarek approached Daar and sat down on the ground with him at a comfortable (and safe) distance away. “Well…neither do we.” He regarded Daar for a moment. “Still. How does one resolve conflict in Stoneback, then?”
Daar stared for a moment, then his eyes lit up and he wagged his tail. He answered with a very playful growl and a full-bodied pounce, then playfully pinned Faarek to the ground and nuzzled happily. “We wrestle!”
And so they did. It wasn’t even a contest. Within seconds Faarek was laughing and wriggling in a futile attempt at escape, while Daar effortlessly held him pinned to the ground. He upped the ante by snuffling in Faarek’s head-fur, which was for most Gaoians a particularly ticklish spot. He surrendered instantly.
“Oh Fathers, stop!” Daar did so and grinned down at his hapless victim. “Oh…whew.” Faarek gradually caught his breath. “I concede, you massive thing! Get off!”
He didn’t. “I win!” He settled his bulk down on Faarek more firmly. “Now, usually, I’d just demand you buy me my favorite snack, or something.”
Regaari chittered amusedly. “He likes roasted Nava cutlets. On sticks.”
Daar nodded vigorously. “It’s gotta be on the little sticks!”
“But we can’t get Nava here.”
“Exactly! So instead…” Daar grinned evilly, “My coat is getting long and I need a good clip, an’ I know you Whitecrest have some fancy tools…”
Faarek blanched. “…must I?” Stonebacks were legendary for the pungent smell their undercoats could accumulate no matter how much they groomed. All laboring males had the same problem but Stonebacks were defined by hard physical exertion in terrible environments.
Fortunately for Faarek, Daar understood, even if the stereotype wasn’t entirely true. “…no. Not if you really don’t wanna.” He sat on his haunches and considered. “Okay. Maybe…just a small favor later. Or a snack.”
“I’m returning to Gao shortly. Maybe…I can bring some Nava back?”
“Would you!?” Daar’s wiggling became almost intolerable.
Faarek chittered amusedly. “Yes, now get off!” Daar did so, and the sudden awkward pause that hits after any such encounter made itself known to the Brothers.
“Well.” Regaari studied his now expanded group of Brothers. “Maybe you should make Stoneback’s position on the matter clear, so there are no future misunderstandings.”
“Oh! Uh…” He paused, as if recalling something. He recited, “We of Stoneback believe we should not deny our animal nature. It is to our advantage to perform across the full range of physical capability. Civilized behavior has its place but it should never interfere with living or doing anything. To us, that is Important.”
He grinned slyly, “And just ‘tween me and y’all, a female don’t pick a Stoneback like me for my refined manners or my favorite poet. She’s after my muscles, fur, claws, and teeth. Why shouldn’t I show it off?”
The Brothers duck-nodded in agreement.
“What about Whitecrest?”
Regaari replied, “The sharpest tool a Gaoian can possess is their mind.”
Daar duck-nodded agreeably. “Why not both?” He pounced and growl-hugged Regaari, “Just don’t forget us dummies, heh.”
Regaari chittered in feigned annoyance and escaped. “You are far from stupid.”
“I know.” Daar thought for a moment. “I mean, yeah. I suppose we are Brothers. Ain’t we in the same, uh, ‘Clan’ by now? These trials are certainly on par with anything I experienced in Stoneback.”
“So…‘Clan SOR.’ Makes sense.”
“Hmm. Should we talk about this with the humans?” Thurrsto was, as ever, concerned with formalities and protocol. “Can… can males belong to more than one Clan at the same time?”
“Father Fyu did.”
“To be fair,” said Faarek, “He was in his own way even more of an exceptional Gaoian than Daar. But…yes.” Daar shrunk into himself a bit in embarrassment at the unexpected compliment.
The reaction by Faarek was one of shock and sudden, newfound respect. Gaoian males were, as a rule, a little vain, especially Clan members. It was always good and wise to accept praise with grace but seldom does a male act like such praise wasn’t his due.
That was not the case with Daar. He had a massive ego, of course; as arguably the most important Stud alive, he had every right. But his fundamentally grateful nature had been set long ago as a young cub, already an astounding physical prodigy but struggling with his studies. Regaari, being a bit small for a Whitecrest, needed to strengthen up, so he helped Daar study in their spare time in exchange for some extended training.
Daar passed and he never forgot the favor. In his mind, he would not be in the position he was without Regaari’s assistance, and Regaari had no need to help. It was pure altruism and Daar loved him for it, and ever since that incident, Daar held a kernel of humility within him that Regaari treasured. Most people did, once they saw it. Daar’s acceptance and training in Stoneback further fanned that aspect of his being. Stonebacks believed in the value of honest, hard labor, and in the redeeming nature of teamwork. Glory was to be shared, not hoarded. Big jobs required many Backs, and why should anyone get more credit?
Many males did not truly believe in those words. Daar did.
Regaari looked fondly upon the slightly embarrassed Daar and returned to the business at hand. “I agree fully,” He said “Sadly, we must keep this to ourselves for the moment. We will need to see what the Clan Fathers would think, and inter-Clan alliances are always complex things.”
“Our Clans are already aligned,” pointed out Daar.
“Should make it easier.” Regaari stood up straight and smoothed his now permanently unruly fur. “Let’s sleep on it, as the humans would say. We’ll talk tomorrow. And after that…we will see.”
They nodded their agreement and continued their walk through the park. The conclusion they would reach the following day was almost foregone; one only needed to watch them interact. After the awkwardness faded, and Faarek and Daar were no longer nursing a grudge, nor Faarek’s leadership challenged…
Clan SOR enjoyed the outdoors, together.
12y, 6m AV
Quarterly Physical Assessment/Bioergonomics measurements
Master Sergeant Christian (Righteous) Firth
“Whenever you’re ready, Firth.” Kovač made a disinterested gesture at her scale.
He sauntered over with a cocky lop-sided grin, naked, free, stinky, and uncaring. He had just sprinted the five kilometers over from his exceedingly strenuous performance assessment and had his shorts off the instant he arrived at the lab. “You gonna measure me while you’re at it? I bet mine’s the biggest now!”
The other operators chuckled and rolled their eyes. Firth, Burgess, and Arés, being the supreme athletes of the team, were the last to be evaluated owing to their longer and harder courses. They were just arriving at the body metrics lab and were therefore about to perform for a captive audience. Not that anyone cared; the others were too busy completing the remaining indignities of their examinations. By now this had become so commonplace and so mundane in their lives, there was not a trace of modesty or shame to be found in anyone.
Kovač, for her part, gave him a look that was simultaneously amused and annoyed. “No, Righteous, I’m not going to be an accomplice in your ridiculous dominance games. You get measured in private like everyone else.”
“Aww, you’re no fun!” He glanced over at Warhorse with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Afraid I’ll upstage your boy?” ‘Horse had just returned from his physical and was, if anything, even more ripe and disheveled than Righteous.
“I somehow doubt that, Christian.” Everyone could hear the smug pride in her voice, which earned the both of them cat-calls and jeers. “But since you insist I will say that you and Adam have the exact same groin plate. We literally just manufacture two of the same size. There, happy? You both win.”
“I note you didn’t answer the question,” grinned Firth.
“Nope, sure didn’t.”
“You evil woman, adding fuel to the fire!” He clucked in mock indignation. Firth and Arés took the teasing with good grace as always.
But for once Adam had a comeback line. “Before you ask: no, I’m not going on another bender with you, and no, I’m not gonna whip it out like last time, no matter what Skinamax is showing!” He chuckled, “You’re never getting me that drunk ever again.”
Militaries had a way of changing a person’s perceptions and priorities, a handy bit of alliteration Righteous was fond of repeating. And like everyone else in the room, he was more perturbed by ‘Horse avoiding a drunken adventure than of any notion of what might happen. After all, it was all in fun, right? Who cared?
Firth certainly didn’t, especially when he thought he might win whatever game was afoot. “You huge pussy,” he chuckled. “How am I supposed to beat ‘ya if you won’t play?” There was nothin’ more fun than teasing a best bud!
“I don’t wanna embarrass you.” Another grin, “And I’m still bigger. Deal with it.”
Kovač rolled her eyes in silence as the men bragged and bantered, which Firth noticed and teased her about. After all, it was her opinion that such vulgar behavior was probably their coping mechanism for everything they endured. Firth found himself agreeing with the idea. It was a fun distraction that seemed easy to fall back onto. And, hell; if women could be irrationally insecure about their attractive friends, couldn’t men do the same?
At least the men had a clear set of measurements to compare. That made it easy for even a crude caveman like Firth to play along. It a was stupid and macho game they played, every ridiculous alpha-male stereotype all rolled into one…so why did they, even knowing what it must look like to outsiders?
Because it was fun, obviously.
Firth chuckled to himself, bounced on his toes a bit to keep the blood flowing and prevent lactic acid buildup, and presented himself for the techs to examine, arms outstretched and feet planted wide.
“Awright, fine. Let‘s get this show on the road.”