None of the soldiers dared move as the airlock mechanism whirred, though many tails were slightly quivering. Despite Rimush’s uninspired leadership, the men had grown accustomed and comfortable with the low stakes patrol. This complacency showed throughout the ship. Dirty walls, a few displays in disrepair, even the air filtration system wasn’t upkept on a strict schedule, leaving the faint scent in the air of engine grease and slightly sweet smelling coolant. It was the captain’s job to maintain standards of punctuality and cleanliness, meaning the Aranzah hadn’t had a formal inspection in several nanoquads.

  The airlock opened, and a Raleighan wearing a tantalum trimmed red and orange tunic stepped onto the carpet. The carpet made a loud squelch as he stepped forward. Inar’s ears drooped a bit as he involuntarily licked his lips.

  The visitor stood at attention, unfazed by the wet carpet. “Presenting his Eminence, Savior of the Raleighan Fleet, and Singular Leader of Raleigh, Lord Dren. All stand in deference!” He took a deliberate, ceremonial step to the right.

  Emperor Dren stepped onto the carpet, another squelch. Now Rimush’s tail was tucked down. Dren wore his ceremonial bronze crown, a tantalum trimmed red and orange cape, and bronze colored armor plated greaves. He purposely went without a shirt, displaying many scars from battle, including one that implied a dagger narrowly missing his heart.

  Dren performatively swept his gaze across the crowd, lingering on the various deficiencies present in the docking area. Rimush could name every single repair and maintenance item that had been neglected in his head every time Dren’s eyes paused.

  Dren spoke without averting his gaze from his inspection. “Magi.”

  “Yes, your eminence?”

  “My feet are wet, Magi.”

  “Yes, your eminence.”

  “Can you explain why my feet are wet?”

  The Magi conjured a handkerchief from his sleeve and blotted the carpet with it, returning quickly and elegantly to his ceremonial stance. He held the orange stained handkerchief at arms length. “This carpet appears to be bedding loosely stitched together with some unidentifiable orange fluid.”

  Dren grabbed the handkerchief and gave it a quick lick. “HTCS, 60/40 blend, spent…” Dren’s gaze turned directly to Rimush. “Well if you were trying to poison me, at least you didn’t go cheap. Now,” he turned to the first soldier on his left, “who does this ship fly for?”

  The soldier froze for a moment before averting his gaze downward, “Your eminence! This is the battleship Aranzah, of the 7th Patrol Wing of the Raleighan fleet! We fly in your service, Lord Dren!”

  “Odd…” Dren turned back to Rimush, “When the Emperor of the Raleighan fleet visits the flagship of a wing in the Raleighan fleet, it is expected that the flagship would be flying the flag of Raleigh.” Dren started to walk down the carpet toward his son.

  “Where are the red and orange of our homeworld? If there were some banners hung up,, it would at least serve as a distraction for the pathetic state of these walls.”

  Dren stepped just in front of Rimush, towering nearly a foot over him. “Name and rank.”

  Rimush looked unblinking at his own feet. “Your eminence. I am Captain Rimush of the Raleighan battleship Aranzah, 7th Patrol Wing of the Raleighan fleet. I serve only the Raleighan Empire.”

  Dren snatched the hat off Rimush’s head. “Should the captain not wear the captain's insignia?” Rimush remained silent. Dren placed the hat in Rimush’s hand. “Why don’t you give that poor soldier back his cover and take me to the bridge before you embarrass this ship even more?”

  “Y-yes, your eminence.” Rimush handed the hat off the Inar, who quickly and quietly walked it over to its owner. “If you would follow me to the lift.” Rimush, Inar, Dren, and the Magi entered the lift at the end of the docking bay.

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  The ride to the bridge lasted only a toq, which was exactly enough time for Rimush to come up with half a dozen potential punishments he’d be eligible for. Dren silently stared at the lift doors. None dared break the silence.

  The doors opened to the bridge, where twenty soldiers abruptly stood at attention, hiding cleaning sloths behind their backs. There was exactly enough time to clean up the control panels and lay out a small spread of refreshments.

  Dren couldn’t help but give a small chuckle. He fixed his demeanor before anyone could react. “Security officer!”

  One of the men discreetly dropped his rag behind a console as he walked to the center of the bridge to stand at attention. “Your eminence. 2nd Lieutenant Kuwa, security, reporting.” Kuwa, despite his inexperience, had a particular confidence in his performance, and it showed in his posture.

  “How many foreign ships pass through this sector in a given picoquad?”

  “Your eminence, we monitor five hundred two regular BTFO freighters and passenger ships that pass through this sector on various schedules. At least ten pass through the sector on any given picoquad. Including two irregular ships, we have seen fifteen ships pass through in the past picoquad.”

  “And in your time on this ship, have you seen any armed foreign ships?”

  “Your eminence, we scan every ship in the sector. I have yet to detect anything beyond mining grade plasma emitters.”

  “And how many of these ships has this crew raided?”

  Kuwa faltered, not speaking immediately. “N-none….Your eminence!” He caught himself slipping in decorum at the last moment.

  Dren simply sighed. “I wish to speak with Captain Rimush.”

  The bridge crew practically ran toward the lifts. Inar, moving at a slower but deliberate pace, gave a worried glance to Rimush as he left.

  “Magi, my package?”

  The Magi pulled a parcel out of his sleeve, seemingly much larger than would be expected could be hidden in his tunic. With two hands, he gave a slight bow and handed it to Dren before wordlessly turning and leaving with the bridge crew. Dren turned back to Rimush as the last lift closed.

  “Rimush, my boy!” Dren crushed his son in an overly enthusiastic hug. “It’s been five nanoquads! I hardly ever hear from you! Are you well?”

  “Y-yes, father?” Rimush was disoriented by the change in tone, his left ear being mashed into his father’s cape.

  “Your mothers ask for you. They worry you do not eat enough. I’ll sadly have to tell them you’ve stopped growing at all.”

  “Father, I am twenty one nanoquads of age. I think that’s a forgone conclusion.”

  Dren released Rimush, patting his shoulder. “Yes, yes. You’ve come of age on this ship. Can’t say it’s the nicest one in the fleet. But, your mothers and I are just happy you seem to be doing well.”

  “Thank you, father.” Rimush straightened up a bit, separating his shoulder from his father’s hand. “You caught us a bit by surprise with this visit. May I ask why you waited until you were in the sector before announcing a visit?”

  “Does the savior of the Raleighan fleet need a reason to visit his youngest son?” Dren crossed his arms across his chest.

  “No…”

  “Did it occur to you that perhaps I simply enjoy fracking with the slackers in the fleet?”

  “No,” Rimush lied.

  “Good. The truth is I did come here for a reason and wanted a bit of discretion before you found out.”

  “‘Found out’, father?”

  Dren opened the package. “First, gifts! Your mothers insisted on some provisions.”

  Dren handed over several packages of smoked and dehydrated organ meats. “I may have taken one for myself on the trip here.”

  Rimush received the stack of packages with both hands, spirits lifting a bit.

  “I think your birth mother is the one that sent the tripe. She expects you to visit soon.”

  “Of course, father. I will return to Raleigh on my next leave.”

  Dren reached back into the package. “And this…” He retrieved a jewel encrusted tantalum bangle, “is from the Varygoff family.”

  “I…don’t understand.”

  “Oh, we’ve received a few gifts from them very recently.” Dren wiggled his small finger, revealing a similarly ornate tantalum ring.

  “Sounds like an interesting development. Secret talks with the Visthan kingdom?”

  Dren laughed before returning to his imperial composure.

  “Rimush, I have news. At attention!”

  “Yes, your eminence!”

  Dren began to pace back and forth in front of Rimush, as if pontificating. “To ensure stability for Raleigh now and for the future, I have negotiated to arrange a marriage between the Visthan crown princess and Raleighan nobility.”

  This certainly piqued Rimush’s curiosity. “That's a wise decision, your eminence. This will certainly prove to be the beginning of a long standing peace between our peoples. So who's the poor bastard?”

  Dren stopped and turned to face Rimush again. “The…poor bastard?”

  “The one you're marrying off to Vix’s knife eared Guhspawn, your eminence.”

  Dren looked annoyed. “You, Rimush, have the PRIVILEGE of becoming Vistha’s next king.”

  Rimush stood, ears drooped and slack jawed.