Dead Star Dockyards

"Please take her with you." Donovan nearly stepped on the blonde mass as he exited the pilot room, Arya's father in their traditional kowtow just beyond the entrance. "Please, I beg of you."

"Take it up with Titanyana."

"Her order was to seek your decision."

Donovan cursed under his breath. Telling someone to consult Titanyana or Diana was his go to for matters of 'the people' and their concerns that managed to reach his level, his focus being on industry and infrastructure for the time being. He expected a few of them to reach his ears, as the one steering this ship their solutions should still fit within his vision, or at the very least the budget. Titanyana's winery project was an example, a task entrusted to her which he provided input on. Now that Titanyana had given tacit approval of this by sending it up the chain, the burden of communicating fell upon him. 

"Step inside."

"Yes sir."

There was to be an inspection of the wheel and pit assembly for making wine, which would have to wait now, but given the unseemly blemish on the man's forehead Donovan couldn't get too upset. The circumstances of his daughter were extenuating, and he'd clearly paid enough of a bodily price to forgive a few minutes of delay. 

"Don't." Donovan had to stop the man from dropping into a kowtow once more. He wanted to see the man's face when they spoke. "Do you understand what you are asking?"

"Yes sir, and I think it would be best if she stayed with you, sir." The man's tail and ears showed some clear signs of distress at being told to stand during his plea, not that Donovan particularly cared. "The manner in which she was sullied has left a wound in her heart, sir, one I do not believe I am capable of healing no matter how hard I try. I must return to working eventually, you see, and I do not believe she will come to trust those around her as easily as she had before. Even if did have the time, I . . . I understand my limits as a man. I've never been privy to the secrets of a maiden's heart, you see, I-I-I could never understand how her mother, peaceful may she rest, came to love me, and I never felt as though I could properly reciprocate that depth of affection regardless of my efforts. And I don't want her to end up a ruined husk like myself. It's simply not something I can stand, not as her father."

"So you want to send her away to a place with total strangers? Somewhere that completely violates all semblance of normalcy for her" Resisting the urge to nod along, Donovan watched Arya's father with an expressionless face. He would not show any sign of trending towards acceptance or rejection. "You know you may never see her again, don't you?"

"That . . . is something I resolved myself to consider when she first rejected my embrace." A slight wince at the memory, not something Donovan thought he faked for sympathy. "That she eventually did accept me was a relief, of course, however it just . . . it just didn't feel the same. She didn't have the optimism and joy in her eyes I was so used to, and even though she was right there in my arms it seemed like she was still somewhere far away. If sending her to that far away place is what she needs to eventually come home to me a happy little girl again, I'm willing to let her go. If that means we become separated for the rest of our days, then that is something I will learn to live with, so long as it makes her happy. It's what her mother would have wanted for her . . . I think."

"You make it sound like this was her idea."

"It was, sir. The topic of how to handle her apprenticeship came up in conversation with her majesty, and Arya submitted that she could serve as her majesty's squire." That answered the question of what Arya would be doing whilst accompanying them. Should she be accepted, Donovan had little doubt Diana would rope her into an education as well. If such a reality would come to pass, he would ensure Titanyana took the lead in the role of educator, though he got the feeling this burden would find its way to him eventually. "Women of the Red Striped clan are generally granted squireship around her age to prepare for the possibility of becoming a fully fledged warrior, though I understand it is also the period of time during which many find their mates."

"And you are aware of the duties she would need to perform?"

"Maintenance and ferrying of her majesty's equipment, as well as the handling of minor chores. In return she will learn how to fight and properly conduct herself."

Donovan frowned, not disappointed with the answer itself but surprised to find the list exceedingly short. He supposed keeping one or two weapons in prime condition could be time consuming, as would the training, however chores at the Sanctum were going to be handled by the barracks staff and training in 'proper conduct' was hardly something he considered worthwhile. Regardless of whether or not Arya possessed talent, Donovan did not want her to end up wasting time while those with responsibilities in the academy were busy - which promised to be most of this year given his squad's integration into a larger army. Trebar and the Holifanians might play a bit fast and loose with how they ran their contingent in the academy, but he doubted they would let a child join in on their combat exercises.

"If I am to accept her, I will ensure her duties extend far beyond those stated. Do you think she can handle whatever I throw her way?"

"I'm sure she'll try her best."

"I'm not asking how hard she'll try, I'm asking if she can handle it. If she commits to this, she will be committed for more than just a month or two, she won't be able to come back if she's not cut out for it. If you can't give me a guarantee, no amount of pleading will get me to accept."

"My little girl can handle anything you throw at her." Donovan almost broke into a smirk at how quickly Arya's father 'locked in' to a more serious face for that delivery.

"Good, I'll hold her to that."

"So you'll take her?"

"If nothing else, she'll be one less mouth to feed here."

- - - - -

"Boop!" 

"Hrmmn!"

Titanyana's tail flicked in response to the baby's protest of his poked cheek, tiny little hand flailing out towards her to bat away the interloping finger. Boromir was rarely awake longer than half an hour, something she'd been assured was normal for babies, and so these precious few minutes spent awake but not feeding was the only time she had to interact with and imprint upon this bundle of joy before she left. 

"Boop!"

"Mhmhm!"

Further flailing, but Titanyana's finger had already retracted beyond his reach. 

"Stop teasing, Titanyana. Let him rest." Petunia, exhausted from irregular feeding cycle of the child and surgical recovery, caught Titanyana's wrist before she could strike again. "You'll get to see him again."

"But not as a baby." Pouting, Titanyana gently twisted her hand free before surrendering her offending index finger to the infant's grasp. This was her cousin, her last remaining blood relative, and she wanted to be a part of his life as much as possible, even if that meant she was a little annoying at the moment. Besides, it wasn't like she was doing anything to seriously harm him! "Keep him safe."

"I'd sooner die than let harm come of him." Petunia smiled as the baby brought Titanyana's finger to his mouth and began to gnaw. "I'm much more worried about you."

"I'll be fine. The Sanctum isn't a particularly dangerous place. Donovan's training will be more likely to hurt me than anything else, and even then he should be able to fix me."

"Still, my son deserves to grow up with his cousin present." She brought her hand up to caress some of Titanyana's hair. "Crass though it might sound, I've no desire to see him assume the throne."

"But-"

"I acknowledge your urge to step down in the future, however I have decided I will not to accept it. Our traditions are important, and I suspect they will only become more important should we begin to adapt to the culture of the Terrans." The hand dropped to the chin, forcing Titanyana to look at her instead of the baby. "Throughout our struggles, your ancestors have carried the torch that served as a guiding light. It is imperative the succession be properly respected such that their will and sacrifices not be forgotten, even if their blood is no longer purely Nekh."

". . . it's not a decision that's coming any time soon, so I'd rather not think about it." Titanyana sighed and closed her eyes, submitting to the gentle scratching that started once Petunia finished with her justification.

"Mm, right. You'd need a child of your own to understand my feelings."

"Hah?!"

"No rush, there's plenty of time, and given the volume of their usual activities I doubt it will take long after you start to achieve some results."

"Petunia!" 

"Though, I don't think any of us would mind if you came back with a bump on your tummy." A lazy smile crept across Petunia's face as Titanyana's embarrassment peaked. The itty bit gums and tongue busy examining the tip of her digit didn't help matters, though she wouldn't dare do anything to extricate her finger from the imminent peril it had found itself in - the perpetrator far to precious to risk upsetting further. Truly the only misfortune was that Boromir would find the appendage unable to dispense milk, a tragedy beyond the words he was still unable to utter. "May I consider that sufficient payback for Boromir?"

Stunned, Titanyana stared back at Petunia in disbelief while she worked to sort out the spike of embarrassment and shock. How was she supposed to respond to that? Was there even an acceptable retort in this situation? Could she respond to a tease from a widow who had only just delivered her baby with something mean? Surely not, right?

"Yes." A horrible realization dawned upon Titanyana, one she never thought she'd have to consider. Petunia, for all her apparent vulnerability in Titanyana's company, did not have any embarrassing moments or traits she could leverage in retaliation. She had become a verbal threat with potential far beyond Diana's, if only because Diana had moments of relaxed silliness.

"Thank you, now if it wouldn't be too much to ask, could you carry him down to the rover for me? It would appear the time for me to leave the comfort of the Pegasus has come."

"You can continue for a bit if you'd like." Titanyana's head snapped back towards the door in terror. How long had Donovan been there? "Like you said - no rush, there's plenty of time."

Again, Titanyana's face flushed. 

"I accepted Arya's proposition, by the way. I can help with the physical training and the education to some degree, but you'll be in charge of her on the whole." Donovan dragged the wheelchair around to the side of the bed, ignoring Titanyana's mental conniption. "Remember, just keep yourself relaxed while I lift you into the chair. The last thing we want is a tear so close to departure."

- - - - -

"Blegh, too sweet." Diana spat into the grass, wiping her pinky onto a handkerchief to get as much of the freshly crushed littervine juice off as possible. 

"I did not think you were capable of such words, Diana." Donovan paid no mind to the juice gushing from the opening at the base, his attention focused on the gentle rolling of the wheel in the basin. This run was more of a demonstration than anything, using berries harvested 'early' and not allowed to rest properly so it could be observed properly before they needed to leave. The product would also be something of an experiment, testing to see the effect both the environment and greenhouse would have on the potency of the wine when harvested at different time frames. 

"Hmph. It was also sour, I'll have you know."

"Then lead with that."

"No, that's not how it works. Grape juice is supposed to be a little sour when the grapes are unripe. Complaining about it would be like kicking a block of concrete and then wondering why my foot hurt."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I felt like it." Diana made eye contact with Donovan for a second or two before sticking her tongue out, the tender pink surface tinged with a hint of green. 

He allowed himself to smile at the endearing display of immaturity. A part of him understood Diana's urge to taste the liquid, though the source was probably a bit different. He'd be more interested in the chemistry, seeing how fermentation altered the taste and experimenting with the fluid to see if he might be able to induce a similar phenomenon in himself as it did with the Nekh - Diana just wanted to see if it tasted good. There was possibly a deeper desire within the both of them to determine if it could somehow be leveraged for some economic benefit, but again their end goals would probably differ. Diana would be more interested in the mercantile side, wanting to market it abroad for profit, while Donovan would most likely be looking for a more abstract benefit like increasing birth rate beyond the Nekh.

"Are there any issues with it?"

"No sir." One of the women waiting for her turn on the wheel responded to Donovan with a smile. "It works better than the one I am used to, much less resistance on the wheel, and the plumb for the collection tube is very helpful for keeping the juice flowing. Thank you for making this for us."

"You should thank Titanyana. She was the one responsible for the design, I just ran ideas past her to iron out possible flaws." He hoisted himself onto the platform, ducking under the bar and dancing around the women busy pushing to get to the meshed collection area at the end. The sack or so of berries offered to the wheel had been compressed to the point they might all fit into a cup. What little liquid was left clinging to the surfaces were slowly being drained away over the mesh, assisted in part by someone gently pressing down a small metal plate on the dregs. It was a shame there wasn't leeway for some sort of pump and hose to help clean everything off though, everything would need to be washed by hand. "Do you think this batch will be successful?"

"I'm sorry milord, but I can't be certain. I don't think it will be a failure, but sour berries are usually indicative of poor end quality."

"Does that quality pertain to taste or aphrodisiacal effect?"

"More with regard to taste, though I can't say it won't be detrimental to efforts in the bedroom." She answered nervously, not confident in her answer.

"Well, have fun with it." Donovan nodded in understanding. Considering how long they'd been doing this, it wouldn't be surprising if they didn't fully understand what an underripe batch would do. There wasn't a need to do anything but the most effective recipe, and their paranoia about wasting resources meant they probably didn't make such a mistake very often. "Effective or not, I'll let each of you ladies take a bottle to consume or hand out at your leisure once it's done, and I would like you to submit a report to Seppard or one of his aides about the results as well as any problems or ideas you might have."

"Of course, sir." 

"Thank you, sir."

He let them have an opportunity to vocalize their gratitude before dropping off the side of the platform and walking back to the rover. All of them were either widows or women well beyond child-bearing age so they would not have a 'legitimate' use of the liquid, however he would grant them the potentially 'defective' product regardless. He recognized they might have children or grandchildren or family friends who could make use of it in their stead, and there was always the possibility those who'd lost their husband might want to reminisce about their dearly beloved once more.

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