“He wants want?” Star Colonel Roland Becker howled.
The blocky, giant of a man reared up, reminding his subordinate so much of their Clan’s own totem - the towering Ghost Bear - standing on its hind legs.
“Aff, Star Colonel. This Lyran has-“ Star Captain Elizabeth was cut off as Becker - she could not stop thinking of him as some sort of ursine hybrid now - lunged forward and with a casual flick of his wrist sent his desk flying end over end.
Papers, plastic folders and data pads went sailing as the desk crashed into the wall with a crash.
Enraged, Becker squared his shoulders and stared about as if looking for fresh prey. His fists were clenched and his breath coming in short rapid snorts.
It had long been rumoured the cluster Commander was the result of a Mechwarrior/Elemental hybrid sibko and looking at the hulking, dark haired man with the thick mat of chest hair sticking out from the neck of his jumpsuit, Elizabeth was starting to believe the barracks scuttlebutt.
“Star Colonel, he has invoked a trial of possession, bargaining for the right to hunt a Ghost Bear. His challenge must be met,” she said.
Her commander shook his head, his face a mask of hate.
“This... this barbarian Surat demands to take part in our most holy ritual?” He demanded
“I shall kill him in orbit, destroy his ship with our fighters and give him the death he deserves - cold and forgotten tumbling through the inky, cold black.”
He’d worked himself into a rage again and was now pacing the tiny room, heedless of the strewn items he was standing on and kicking about.
“I shall kill that... that... Freebirth piece of amphibian shit! I will rend him, I shall destroy him! I shall make him bleed!”
“Star Colonel, you have to admit this Count Schneider is bold, quaff?” she said.
Her CO turned on her, murder in his eyes.
“I only mean that he demands what is only granted to our best, blooded warriors.”
Becker stopped: “Star Captain, explain your worlds quickly. If you do not, you shall face a trial and your Trianry will be looking for a new leader while you attempt to train snot nosed sibkins, despite the lack of your tongue”.
Elizabeth smiled. The Clans put little emphasis on physical beauty - knowing, correctly, it was just vanity and that the true mark of a Warrior was strength of arms. But Elizabeth knew how well her wide, sensuous smile and perfect white teeth charmed her commander.
“Sir, this Freebirth asks for a warrior’s reward, quaff? So set him a warrior’s test to prove his worthiness. Make him sit a trial of position to ensure his eligibility.”
The big man smiled slowly. “Aff, Star Captain. Aff. For there is little chance this monied Surat will survive.”
