A Social Call Before Departure

The rifle in Katla's hands was different than she was used to. On Asgard she'd been trained in all manner of weapons, including those meant to kill, but she'd never encountered one like this.

"It's a lovely piece. I had it commissioned in honor of my tenth success. I've never enjoyed energy weapons in pursuit of game. A solid shot is far more honest. The silent hum of a beam will not bring a creature to flight should you miss." Foxley was explaining as Katla examined it further. It's stock was of real wood rather than the synthetic which most would have opted to use for its preservation. It had clearly still been lovingly maintained, its condition pristine despite the display where it had hung showing the myriad of prey it had brought down. Most of which Katla didn't recognize.

"It's very nice," Katla said honestly as she put it back. She hadn't really been expecting to handle a gun when Foxley had invited her to this small gala but the Captain had been most eager to show off her collection to a new person. The trophies and other weapons ringing the room telling of Foxley's personal pastime.

"Are you one for the hunt yourself Commodore? I've not yet had occasion to visit Asgard but I hear the Fenris is an excellent bit of sport," Foxley asked, speaking of the large six limbed-wolf like creatures that inhabited the verdant forests of Asgard's equator. The beasts had fine pelts that had almost had them hunted to extinction in the wild before the Great War. Ironically the war that had doomed the humanity of the time was their salvation and in the time since they'd restored their population. The Council of Jarls had banned the use of modern detection gear for the purpose of hunting making them quite the challenge for hunters due to their keen senses and swift movement in their home environment.

"Can't say I've been." Katla shrugged as she put the weapon back. "Always preferred to stay up in the stars a bit."

"I will be taking leave for an expedition after our next mission, I would be more than glad to invite you along. I assure you, there's no thrill greater." Foxley said with a smile

"I'll think about it. Speaking of our mission-" She was interrupted by a woman with a mask entering the room. It took Katla a moment to figure out that it was supposed to resemble something of a ferret, sections of it left out to show the skin beneath. Especially her neck which was fitted with an engraved collar, the image on it a fox pursuing a quarry that was hidden by the woman's long brown hair.

"Yes Nikola?" Foxley was clearly annoyed at the intrusion.

"Dame Duponte has arrived." Nikola replied, giving a short bow. "You wished to be informed."

"And now I have been." Foxley said, a bit of venom staining her voice. The **** clearly getting the message and bowing her exit. Foxley saw Katla's look. "Nikola is a family ****, life duration." Now that got Katla's attention. With the rarity of life slavery owning one was either considered a sign of **** prestige or cruelty depending on who was asked. As far as Katla was aware the Queendom hadn't participated in a Tier 1 war within the last 60 years making the oddity even more compelling. Foxley explained it. "Criminal. Attempted double homicide of a peer with near success."

"Damn." Katla wouldn't have expected it upon seeing her, she'd seemed a slight figure. "Who?"

"My mother and myself." Foxley said with a wicked grin. "I had yet to be born when it occurred but that my parents took her into possession is a wonder. I suppose they wanted to prevent some softhearted abolitionist from removing her collar."

"That sounds about right considering." Katla said, "She'd be quite a bit of change on the open market." Life slaves were always pricey for obvious reasons. Most fell into the ownership of the state in criminal cases as the crimes that created them either created far too many victims to have any kind of sharing arrangement or left the one who had the most right to them being dead and the family not wanting to see such a person afterward. Or a combination of the two.

"Ten million credits on the open market at least." Foxley waved off, "But we're keeping my cousin waiting. I wished to introduce you."

The look Foxley was giving to her cousin matched that which she'd reserved for the woman who'd almost killed her. Katla had gathered that the family had a strong naval tradition and that apparently extended to the side-branches. What drew Foxley's ire was that instead of the simple evening clothes that the other participants of the gala had opted for Dame Duponte was still in full uniform. A fighter pilot's uniform. Katla didn't mind getting an eyeful of the way the skintight suit of smart-skin hugged the red-head's curves but Foxley had a different idea.

"Cousin." The way that word was said wouldn't have been out of place loaded into the rifle Katla had held earlier. "It seems you missed the dress requirements."

"Sorry 'bout that cus. Came straight from a drill. Command is riding our ass about... well you know what." The woman who was clearly the aforementioned Dame Duponte said. "Didn't have time to swap into a dry." When in action the flight suit would be filled with liquid to allow for the pilot to handle additional G's without risk of passing out. In full war status even the pilot's lungs would be filled with breathing liquid to enable them to sustain the insane amount of **** exerted on their bodies. "This the one you want me to try and fuck?"

If looks could kill the Dame would be dead. It seemed that the straightforwardness of fighter pilots carried over even to Avalon. Considering that they were flying around in open space to fight against ships that were of a much greater tonnage and firepower one needed to have a certain level of boldness. Considering where that tended to lead they also gained quite the reputation for being sluts on both ends.

"Cousin. I don't know where you-"

"Auri, she's a Viking, we can be straight here. You see, my cousins hoping that we hit it off and you'll settle my ass down. Politics and bullshit. Meanwhile, I'm about to deploy, my command doesn't have any slaves on em and my usual outlets just got transferred. So what do you say? I'm on protection and I don't mind letting another pilot in my cock-pit" She seemed very proud of the oft-repeated joke, though more likely she was enjoying the distress she was causing her cousin.