POV: Captain Alenna Danaan Manaan

  Alenna awoke to the staccato chirping of her comms unit, the chime echoing through the soft haze of her headache like a dagger to the brain. She groaned, rolled onto her side, and winced as the sharp scent of spilled liquor and sweat greeted her. A silken bedsheet tangled around her leg. The room swayed gently with the ship’s motion, or maybe it was just the hangover.

  "Captain," came a voice—soft, polite, and dangerously close to alarmed. It belonged to Elian, her comms officer. "Bridge reporting Priority One message from Hiigara. You are requested to respond. Immediately."

  Alenna blinked blearily at the ceiling. Her throat was dry as dust. Her head pounded in rhythm with her pulse. "Message? What time is it?"

  "0432 ship time, ma’am. The message is… urgent."

  She sat up, slowly. Her sheets rustled as she pulled herself upright, brushing errant curls from her eyes. The room was still dim, awash in the soft blue tones of mood lighting and the lingering scent of incense. Then she heard the soft rustle near the doorway.

  A figure, equally nude, tiptoed toward the exit—one arm hastily clutching a pile of clothes. Alenna raised an eyebrow, still half-asleep. "You could’ve stayed for breakfast."

  The figure—a tall, well-built dancer from last night’s gala—paused just long enough to wink before slipping out the door.

  She sighed. Priorities.

  The console chirped again.

  Grumbling, she stood and stumbled across the room, entirely unaware of her unclothed state. The lights near the console flared as she approached, making her hiss and shield her eyes. It took three tries to hit the right button.

  The message began to play.

  This is Karan S’jet of Hiigara. The Mothership stands. The enemy has blockaded our skies. All Hiigaran vessels beyond the blockade—S’jet, Manaan, Soban, Naabal, Paktu, Somtaaw— all Kiths and Kithless Higarans, this is your call. Rally allies. Organize resistance. Return with vengeance.

  Alenna stared at the screen, the words piercing through her stupor like cold water. Hiigara… blockaded?

  Her hand trembled as she tapped the screen again, replaying the message. The second time, it sank deeper.

  Hiigara was under siege.

  That did it.

  She straightened, the adrenaline shoving the hangover aside like an offended maid. Her mind began racing. This wasn't a drill. This wasn't a prank.

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  "Comms, open a fleet-wide conference. Secure channel. Priority override." Her voice cracked but held firm.

  "All captains, this is Captain Alenna Danaan Manaan. Stand by for conference."

  The screen split into panels as each captain’s feed flickered to life. Vexin, as usual, was already lounging with a drink in hand. Seraya appeared haloed in candlelight. Mirra waved cheerfully from a bubbling mineral bath. Jaen… well, Jaen had clearly just ended a shift, judging by the way someone scurried out of frame giggling. Tyrael blew her a kiss. Halem bowed calmly. Liora merely raised an eyebrow.

  Alenna didn’t realize anything was off until Vexin tilted his head and grinned like the cat who’d just eaten the cream.

  "Well," he said with mock reverence, "if this is the new uniform for briefings, I fully approve."

  "It’s a bit minimalist for my tastes," Jaen purred, her smile all mischief. "But I have a few clients who’d pay handsomely for a live performance. Perhaps you’d consider doing a tour of Velariin’s Kiss?"

  Confused, Alenna glanced down.

  And screamed.

  She dropped out of frame like she'd been shot.

  From somewhere offscreen, there was the frantic rustling of silk and the muffled thump of a head hitting a table.

  "MEETING. MY SHIP. ONE HOUR!" Alenna screeched before slapping the comms unit off with a palm.

  Silence reigned for a moment.

  Then, Vexin leaned back, chuckling. "I love mornings like this."

  Jaen smirked. "Ten credits says she shows up in full Captain’s regalia just to overcompensate."

  Tyrael grinned. "You're on."

  One hour later, the Ferin Sha's grand conference chamber was aglow with morning light filtered through the viewports. The room, usually reserved for diplomatic balls and concerts, had been hastily converted into a war council chamber. Cushions were replaced with duty chairs. The piano was moved to the side. A holotable shimmered in the center, waiting to be filled with battle maps and fleet logs.

  Alenna arrived wearing the most pressed and ceremonially adorned captain’s uniform anyone had ever seen.

  Nobody said a word.

  Yet somehow, they were all grinning.

  She cleared her throat. "Right. Now that we’re all... dressed... let’s get to business."

  Liora was the first to speak. "There is no feasible way we can return to Hiigara and contribute to a liberation effort. We are a Kith Manaan Pleasure Fleet. Not a warfleet."

  "Speak for yourself," Mirra chimed in, raising a hand. "What if we staged a massive fireworks display? Distract the Vaygr with beauty. They’ll be so enchanted they won’t notice us sneaking past."

  Vexin leaned forward, swirling his drink. "Or we invite them to a gambling tournament. If they lose, they lift the blockade. If we lose, they get a one-day free pass aboard the fleet. High-ranking officers get three days. Fair?"

  Halem closed his eyes and folded his hands. "We send waves of positive energy. Peaceful intent. Their spirits will soften. The blockade will dissolve."

  "We throw a party," Tyrael declared. "Lure them in with music, lights, drink. Once they’re drunk and dancing, we sneak through and disable the inhibitors."

  Jaen grinned. "I say we offer Makaan a week of unlimited access to Velariin’s Kiss. After I’m done with him, he won’t remember his own name, let alone why he came here."

  Alenna buried her face in her palm.

  All eyes eventually turned to Seraya, who had yet to speak.

  She sat serenely, eyes closed, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

  "Seraya?" Alenna asked.

  She opened her eyes slowly. "There is no need for debate. The answer will present itself in three... two... one..."

  A knock echoed at the chamber door.

  Alenna looked up. "What is it? We’re in the middle of a meeting!"

  "Apologies, Captain," came the muffled reply of the guard. "But a VIP demands entry. He is a Kith-sa of Kith Somtaaw."

  All heads swiveled to stare at Seraya.

  She smiled.

  "As I said... the answer always arrives when it should."