(On the Hunt) Chapter 3

Pride: On the Hunt

Chapter 3

Joining Forces

They'd been called in with hardly any notice. Not a mission briefing, per se. Colonel Hawkins had called it just a follow-up. 'Just a follow-up' did not explain the information that had arrived to Keith and Flynn's datapads that morning…

"You read the files, Kogane?" Flynn asked under his breath.

"Yeah." Keith was sitting with a large mug of coffee, fingers steepled in front of his chin. "Will be interesting, that's for sure…"

There was a huge box of maple bacon donuts on the table; apparently that was a tradition now. Only Hunk and Lance were actually eating donuts, though Sven looked tempted. Hunk was starting on his second when the door opened and Hawkins walked in. "Morning, gentlemen."

"Morning, sir." Sven and Keith spoke at the same time, the others just saluted with varying degrees of seriousness.

Oh, and then there was Hunk. "Heya, big boss! Donuts are here!"

For a moment, Flynn's salute became quite indistinguishable from a facepalm.

Hawkins just chuckled, picking out a donut and taking a small bite before addressing them. "I have news for you all… and I don't have news."

"Oh, good thing you narrowed that down," Jace muttered. Sven elbowed him.

Keith was a little more circumspect. "News, but no news? That's not very… encouraging."

"Sounds about normal," Lance countered through a bite of donut.

"Totally." Hunk nodded. "Intel gonna intel."

"They're doing their best." Hawkins didn't sound wholly disapproving of the conversation track, and he wasn't—complaining about military intelligence was a tradition far older than the Alliance. But still. "On that note… firstly, I think you all deserve to know that they finished interrogating the crew of that carrier you helped capture at Echo Fox." That got everyone sitting up a little straighter. "Based on their information, Command discovered a massive breach at the New Brian Boneyard. At least a dozen ships missing, including multiple Leyte-class carriers."

Several jaws and one donut dropped.

"They took what from where?"

"The fuck!"

"What? That's… that's insane."

"And it took how fucking long for the brass to figure that out?!"

Hawkins let them yell—lord only knew he had when he'd heard about it. The New Brian Boneyard was a spacedock complex that served as the Alliance's primary ship graveyard. Hundreds of ships docked in a top secret location, ready to be reactivated in case of emergency. Needless to say, it was more heavily secured than some planets. Ships at the Boneyard did not just go missing.

He waited for the expletives to wind down before continuing.

"Obviously, Command believes it can only be an inside job, so I requested your unit's identity be redacted from the report and your records sealed until we know more." He smiled grimly. "I know, you're an Explorer Team, you can only get into so much more trouble… but we'd rather not give someone who's already sponsoring deadly attacks on Alliance personnel any reason to hunt you down."

There were a few nervous grins in response; Hunk looked down at the donut in his lap and blinked. "Uh, totally in favor of that."

"Safety first."

"One less thing to worry about."

"What about the pirates themselves?" Flynn asked after a moment, in a tone that wasn't entirely eager for an answer.

Hawkins shook his head. "A task force is being assembled to hunt them down. You're going elsewhere."

"Yay," Jace said flatly, and Sven elbowed him again.

"Elsewhere?" Keith repeated, ignoring the medic. He didn't like it when orders were that ominous.

"…That's where I'm afraid I don't have much information for you."

Oh. Well. That was certainly… a statement. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Intel has been working on decoding that crystal you recovered. It's slow going. What they are certain of is that it's pointing to something important. It may be what the Galra are searching for, so you'll be hunting it down."

"So more Galra treasure hunts?"

"Isn't that more or less what we just did?"

Hawkins looked at Lance and Flynn and shook his head slightly. "Maybe, maybe not. They're still working on specifics. But Command feels secure enough in the information they already have to assign you a new ship, one better suited for major cargo retrieval… and new teammates."

"…What."

"Oh yeah? Cool!"

The rest of the team's reactions fell somewhere between Jace and Hunk, manifesting as looks of more or less interest as Hawkins swept his gaze around the table. Keith exhaled, nodding. "Which is why Kleid and I received the files we received."

"Yes." The colonel absently juggled his donut between his hands as he spoke. "Your new ship is a Vagrant-class named Jupiter's Hammer. It's been mothballed for awhile—they're reinstalling the engines as we speak. You'll be operating out of midrange hangar L4-West. Command felt it was best to get you started early, so you can get acquainted with your new crewmates while you're getting the ship up to speed."

Flynn tilted his head. "A… Vagrant, sir? Not a Vanguard?"

Hawkins grinned slightly. "Yes, a Vagrant." Whatever that was about, it was clearly an engineering geek thing; Flynn and Hunk high-fived, while Lance arched an eyebrow at them.

"A mothballed ship that just got its engines back," Keith repeated, sounding wholly unconvinced. "You'll have your hands full."

"Sure, we'll have a ship to fix up while you're trying to deal with the new kids up front…" Flynn smirked, then muttered under his breath, "Jupiter's HAMMER? That'll be the first thing to go."

Keith eyed him. "You're getting just as many new kids as I am."

"Kids?" Lance broke in. That sounded like a kind of important point being glossed over.

Jace's eyes narrowed. "That had better be a metaphor."

"I would also like some clarification on the 'kids'," Sven agreed, looking between Keith and Hawkins.

Only Hunk, as usual, seemed unbothered. "Hey, plenty of room on the Island of Misfit Toys here, yeah? I'm good with kids."

Hawkins chuckled; he couldn't help it. "They are younger than usual for an Explorer Team, yes. But—and I'm sure this will shock you all—there's not a long list of candidates, and we're not exactly at the top of the list when it comes to requesting reinforcements. They're all very good at what they do, I assure you."

"They wouldn't have made it to this assignment if not," Keith said with a slow nod.

"Kinda don't think any stuffy old dudes could handle us anyway," Hunk pointed out.

Lance snickered. "Stuffy old dudes can't handle shit."

"Literally true," Jace agreed, getting yet another elbow from Sven.

Keith grimaced, eyeing Hawkins, who was after all the oldest in the room. The colonel noted his look and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Kogane, is this you calling me old?" he asked in a slightly chiding tone.

A round of snickers swept around the table, and Keith took a long sip of his coffee. "I said no such thing, sir."

"And I sure wouldn't," Lance chimed in with a smirk, looking Hawkins up and down. He really wasn't that old.

Eyeing Lance with his best don't even look, Hawkins cleared his throat. "In any case, we know two key parameters for this mission: you'll be traveling much deeper into the Interior Expanse, at the least, and what you're bringing back may need some diagnostic work. To that end you're being assigned a communications officer, a gunner, a systems analyst, and an electrical engineer. They'll be reporting tomorrow." He grimaced slightly. "When we have enough information for a full briefing, you'll be the first to know."

Keith nodded for the group. "Understood, sir."

"Any questions? Otherwise, dismissed. Kogane, Kleid, stay a minute."

A couple of odd looks fell on him. "Uh, if we did have questions, would you have any answers?" Hunk asked finally.

"…Probably not."

"We'll just have to figure out the details while they're shooting at us, big guy." Lance smirked. "As usual."

"We're a fucking Explorer Team," Jace agreed, sounding much less bitter than he once had; Lance grinned and slapped him on the back.

"Sure are!"

Chuckling, Hunk turned to them and held out both his hands for a high five. Lance obliged; Jace hesitated a moment, smirked, and hit his hand probably harder than necessary… then winced as pain shot through his wrist.

Lance burst into laughter.

"Fuck you, McClain." The medic grinned as he headed for the door, Sven giving him the obligatory disapproving look before following.

"You wish." Lance headed out too, with Hunk on his heels, leaving only the three ranking officers to stay and be businesslike.

Hawkins was amused, but became more serious as he looked at the other two. "I'm guessing from your comments that you two were able to look over the files."

"Yes, sir," Keith confirmed. Flynn just nodded quietly.

"I won't ask you to weigh in on Stoker's probation until you've met with him, obviously… but the sooner you can make a decision, the better. If you don't feel comfortable waiving him, we'll need to find you a different systems analyst somewhere."

"Aside from his disciplinary issues, he does seem to be the man for the job," Keith observed. Which really summed up the entire Explorer Team premise. "I like his qualifications."

Flynn nodded in agreement. "It would take something like…" He trailed off. He'd been about to say attempted murder, but that was actually kind of what had happened. "…it would take a lot to reject someone rated for his original posting, even if it didn't last."

The colonel nodded. "If you need anything clarified about the others, go ahead and ask. I know you didn't get much warning."

Most of the necessary clarification would come when they reported, of course… but there was one thing that had been bothering Keith quite a bit. "Brennan being assigned here I understand completely, and Hayes I suppose makes sense. But Starr? Top of his class, not so much as a citation for coughing out of turn?"

Hawkins gave him a look he didn't care much for; an odd mix of skeptical and stunned. "You don't know him?"

"Know him?" Keith looked to Flynn, who just shook his head, equally confused. "Am I supposed to?"

"…He requested your command, Kogane. Asked for you by name." Hawkins frowned. "We don't get many people who volunteer for an Explorer Team, we certainly weren't going to tell him no."

What? Keith could only stare in shocked silence for a minute. It didn't make any sense. "I'm fairly certain that I don't know him at all."

"Hmm. Guess you'll have something to ask him when he reports, then."

"Crystal Spur fanboy," Flynn whispered under his breath.

Keith made an attempt to shoot his second a death glare while also nodding respectfully to his supervising officer; it didn't go particularly well. "Yes, I guess I do."

Looking between them and laughing softly, Hawkins saluted with the hand that wasn't presently holding a donut. "Well, gentlemen… if that's all, I'll see you when we have more information. Here's hoping your new teammates will fit right in."

*****

All of the new kids—the new crew members—had been instructed to check in with Keith first. Which meant Keith was stuck in his office for the morning, waiting. Hayes had stopped by first, and he seemed fine. Nervous, but fine. The next appointment was more worrisome…

Stoker's qualifications were impeccable. Almost too impeccable. He'd graduated from the Academy at fourteen, and been assigned straight to the Dawn of Destiny—not only one of the Alliance's prized Unity-class dreadnoughts, but the flagship of the entire Orion Vanguard. He'd tested out at the highest levels in both systems engineering and special operations. It would have seemed like an elaborate joke, were it not for one key detail: Stoker wasn't human.

Baltans were a race of small, scientifically-inclined humanoids with a long tradition of ninja arts. They hardly ever turned up on this side of Alliance space; Keith had never met one. He wasn't sure he was looking forward to it. Apparently, at least in Stoker's case, the price of such remarkable talents was some… social maladjustment.

A lot of social maladjustment.

Someone knocked on the door. "Commander Kogane?" It was an unfamiliar voice, but she pronounced his name correctly. "Sergeant Faraday, MP. I'm here with Specialist Stoker."

Well, he was on probation. "Enter."

The door swung open, revealing a dark-haired woman in a military police uniform and… Keith tilted his head. The soldier with her was a slim young man with cold, catlike green eyes; he could easily have passed for human, if you didn't look at him too long. He flipped a short salute. "Specialist Stoker reporting, sir."

Here went nothing. "Have a seat." Stoker frowned but sat across from the desk while Faraday took up a post in the corner. "I've read your file, Mr. Stoker. But I'd like to hear your side of how you've come to be here."

"I stabbed one of my groupmates in a bar fight."

…He said that entirely too matter-of-factly. Keith arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He threatened me."

What now? That wasn't exactly what his file had—

"What the specialist means," Faraday broke in with a slight grimace, "is that his groupmate outright assaulted him with a bottle."

Immediately Stoker turned and scowled at the sergeant. "That's what I said. The clumsy idiot missed me."

In less than two minutes, this kid was already living up to his reputation. Keith sighed and held up a hand for silence. "How about you just tell me what exactly led one of your groupmates to go after you with a bottle?"

Shrug. "He's a fool. I told him so. Repeatedly."

Wonderful. "That… doesn't clarify the situation for me at all, Mr. Stoker."

"He didn't like me being smarter than him, sir." He said it slowly, patiently, as though speaking to a child. "We had words. Often."

Well then. "That being the case, one would think you could have found other ways to resolve the incident?"

Stoker gave him a look that was pretty clearly questioning his intelligence too. "Sir, I'm unfamiliar with other ways of resolving the issue of an idiot throwing a bottle at your head."

"Did you mention your issues with him to a superior prior to the incident?"

"Yessir."

That actually surprised him. "And they didn't do anything?"

Another shrug. "They told me I have issues with everyone."

I'll bet you do. Though that was hardly an appropriate response. "That's…"

Stoker seemed entirely unconcerned. "Accurate, sir. They did tell him to stop 'baiting' me."

Keith wondered just how much it would take to bait this kid, but saying so out loud didn't seem like the best idea. "And clearly he didn't, and as much as you didn't need to do that, I suppose he had it coming or it wouldn't be in your file as self defense. So, welcome to Explorer Team 686." He crossed his arms and leaned back. "We can only move forward, correct?"

"Experience says incorrect, sir."

"…That's the wrong answer." Keith arched an eyebrow. "Would you like to try again?"

Scowl. "I'm not planning to stab anyone else, sir, if that's what you're asking. I'm just here to do a job." Something in his tone made it seem like he'd had to say that a lot in his career.

Fair enough. "I'll take you at your word, then. I assume you've already seen the mission orders?"

Stoker's tone became delicate. "They weren't sent to me."

Keith highly doubted that would have stopped a systems analyst with a disciplinary record like Stoker's, but the young man's eyes darted over to the corner and stopped him just before he said so. Right. "Sergeant, you're dismissed."

Faraday startled. "But sir…"

"It's fine. Mr. Stoker isn't going to be any further trouble, are you?"

Stoker looked between the two of them. "I'm very dangerous, sir," he said flatly.

It was impossible to tell whether that had been meant as humor or not, and Keith wasn't actually sure which would worry him more. Faraday didn't seem convinced, either way. "Sir, you are aware the specialist is a trained ninja."

"I am very familiar with Mr. Stoker's qualifications, Sergeant. As he has promised not to stab anyone else, I am going to take him at his word. Dismissed."

She shrugged before saluting. "Yes sir. I'll be outside."

Watching her go, Stoker answered as soon as the door shut. "I have seen the orders, sir. They're very… vague."

Wasn't that the truth. Keith sighed. It had been worth a shot. "You know I need to waive your probation before you're actually permitted to deploy."

"Yessir."

"Is there any reason I shouldn't?"

"Probably several, sir." Stoker glanced at the door again. "But I am a ninja, and I've been letting Sergeant Faraday watch me anyway. She knows I've been humoring her. You can ask her if you need to."

He made a good point. Keith could think of worse Explorer Team members than a hostile ninja who was, at least, apparently honest to a fault… though he could also think of better. "All right. I won't make a final decision until I've heard what Lieutenant Commander Kleid thinks of you, but I'm inclined to give you a chance. Dismissed."

With a wordless salute, Stoker stood and departed. Keith looked after him for a few moments, frowned, then pulled his datapad over and typed in a quick message. May as well warn Flynn what he was in for.

*****

Hangar L4-West was on a quiet part of base. What were known as the 'midrange hangars' actually held the largest ships on the Garrison; they were the middle ground between small craft hangars and spacedocks. They were a bit of a niche, and that was fine with Flynn.

The Jupiter's Hammer was enormous, by atmospheric standards. It could quite literally have fit the Firecrown into its gaping cargo bay. In fact, it was quite literally designed to do just that. The Vagrant-class had originally been intended to rescue stranded small craft. It did make sense, for an unknown retrieval mission, if the Alliance wasn't going to try to give a ten-man Explorer Team an actual stellar cruiser. Which would have been ridiculous.

Imagine, the brass not doing something ridiculous.

He was finishing up an external inspection of the ship now, waiting on his new engineering crew to turn up. They worried him much more than the ship's condition. Only natural, wasn't it? They had an electrical engineer who tended to cause explosions when he was upset, and a systems analyst who was literally on probation. Was he supposed to not be worried?

Coming around the side of the ship, movement caught his eye. There was a young man standing underneath the nose, looking both nervous and a bit lost. Is that one of my wrenchlings? He did have the right rank patch… "Looking for something, Specialist?"

The newcomer startled, then turned to him and startled again. "Uh, um…" His amber eyes had gone very wide. "Lieutenant Commander Klay… er, no… Kleid?"

Yep, that's a wrenchling. "That's me." He saluted casually, which the specialist returned with a shaky hand. "So, you must be Hayes or Stoker?"

"Uh, Hayes?"

A very timid wrenchling. I don't recall reading a file for one of those. Shrugging it off, he grinned and offered a hand. "Welcome to the 686. You can call me Flynn, we're pretty casual around here."

Hayes did not appear the least bit reassured, but managed a very brief handshake as he nodded. "Yes, sir. Sir Flynn… Flynn. Vince, I like Vince."

"Vince." Flynn studied him more carefully. He didn't look like a mad bomber. He just looked like nervous new blood on a questionable new assignment… which only made Flynn apprehensive as well. Damn it, he'd just mostly gotten over having to wonder about Hunk's violence threshold, now he had another one? "You can relax, you know."

"I… I'll attempt that, sir."

Relaxing was the absolute last thing Vince felt prepared to do at the moment. He'd been apprehensive enough about the Explorer Team posting as it was. Checking in with Commander Kogane earlier that morning had gone well enough—other than mispronouncing his name, embarrassing—but he was definitely not doing much to endear himself to his direct superior here.

Maybe if his direct superior had been a little less huge he would have been a little less intimidated. But then, all things considered, maybe not.

Flynn seemed to take it well enough, just giving him a wry smile. "You could start attempting it by using my name, but that's alright." He leaned against the ship's front landing gear. "What have they told you about the mission?"

"Yes si—Flynn." This would take some doing. "All I know is, I was told my assignment was an Explorer Team and that I was to report today. Any more detail would be appreciated."

"…Honestly I was hoping they might have accidentally given you more details." Flynn crossed his arms and looked up at the belly of the ship, scowling. "All we know right now is we're going to be sent out to go retrieve something… somewhere… eventually."

For a moment sheer surprise outweighed Vince's nervousness, and he blinked. "We don't even know what?" Ugh. He hated not knowing things.

Flynn shook his head, the odd smile coming back. "I could tell you everything you've heard about Explorer Teams is wrong, but it's probably not. This is what we get. But it'll be fun… ever worked on a Vagrant before?"

"No, but I've read up on them." Vince looked up at the ship, then back down at his new boss; Flynn looked young enough that he'd probably never worked on a Vagrant either. "It's the model that preceded the Vanguard, the last one was produced a little over sixty years ago, but they're still known for being solid. Built for spaceplane rescue. It's one of only about half a dozen ships that are small enough for atmospheric operation but also large enough for hyperspace thrusters."

Talking shop seemed to make Vince more relaxed, Flynn noted. At least slightly. He could work with that. And him already having read up on the ship was an excellent sign. "Thorough, I like it."

"I like to be prepared, si—Flynn."

"Excellent." Motioning for Vince to follow, he started heading towards the aft landing gear. "What we do know right now is, they took this thing out of mothballs for us and we've got to get it spaceworthy. This is your first deployment, right?"

Vince felt his face flush. "Yes, it is… it's that obvious?"

"I mean, yes? But I've also read your file."

Of course he has. What a dumb question to ask. That flush got hotter as he considered what was likely to be in his file. Crap, he knows I blow things up, doesn't he. "Oh."

Whatever more Flynn may have said was interrupted by the metallic clang of the ship's hatch, and heavy footsteps on the boarding ramp. "Yo, pit boss! I've gotta go get some—oh hey!" Hunk came around the ramp and a huge grin spread over his face. "New kid!"

Oh holy hell! Vince gulped so hard it physically hurt as he stared at the new arrival. Flynn was big enough, and this guy was bigger. He almost didn't even look real. He's… bigger than… they're both giants…

Whoever the new giant was, his dramatic entrance only earned a mildly exasperated look and a brief facepalm. "Vince, this is Hunk. Hunk, this is…" Flynn trailed off at the expression on the new kid's face, moved forward, and worriedly poked his shoulder. "Vince?"

Hunk. Of course his name was Hunk. Because what else would it be? Most of Vince's effort was being expended on not fainting, but he finally managed a weak, "Hi."

"Nice to meetcha!" The huge man had an equally huge grin on his face; it looked like he wanted to go for either a handshake or a high five but realized either one might kill his new crewmate. "I'm the resident master blaster here. But uh, I fix stuff too. Sometimes. When I don't have anything to make go KABOOM." He turned to Flynn without so much as a pause for breath. "Anyway uh, like I was sayin', gotta go get another pile of plates for that hole on deck three. I'll be back." Waving to both of them, he headed for the bay door. "Later on, Vince!"

Later… on… yeah… holy…

All he could do was stare. And stare. And stare some more. And then the sound of an engine revving drifted into the hangar, along with Hunk's voice yelling "Vroom vroom!" as the sound gradually faded away.

He only got something resembling his wits back when the noise was completely gone. "Uh. Was he real?" Maybe the stress is making me hallucinate…

"Afraid so." Flynn smiled sympathetically. "Bit terrifying, isn't he? But you get used to him." He opted to keep the more or less that went through his mind to himself.

"Uh… wow. If you say so."

"I say so." He laughed. "You can even believe me if you like."

"Is that an order?"

…Oh not another one of these. Flynn arched an eyebrow. "Should it be?"

Vince laughed nervously. "I don't know. I'm still attempting to relax."

"Would it help if I gave you some wiring to fix? We have plenty of wiring to fix."

"Wiring?" Immediately Vince brightened, and Flynn gave him a knowing look. "I would love to wire, si… uh, Flynn." Please just give me something to focus on.

With a nod and a motion to follow, his new superior led him to one of the aft landing gear. It was huge, of course—six wheels nearly as tall as he was—and there were several panels open, revealing the retraction mechanisms and internal structure. A diagnostic tablet and several tools were sitting on a workbench that had been pulled up next to it.

"This gear has been showing several power faults. I believe it's a pretty standard system, but I'm sure you'll tell me if I'm wrong." Flynn smiled.

Studying the system and the wires, Vince gave a long sigh of relief. This he could handle. This was absolutely his wheelhouse. No pun intended. "Very standard, can I get right to work?"

"Absolutely." Flynn pointed past the rear of the ship; three doors were set into the back wall of the hangar. "If you need any other tools, the supply room is that open door on the left. If there's anything else you need from me, just yell—I have to go in and have a look at the engines." That wry smile again. "If all you need is for me to stay the hell back with the engines while you get settled, that's also fine."

At least he wasn't offended, Vince supposed. He cracked his knuckles, looking over the tools already laid out. "I'll get a few things and get right to work." Time to see about fixing this mess of a first impression… he headed for the supply room, feeling relief filling him all over again. He couldn't get lost in the wiring soon enough.

"Have fun." Chuckling slightly, Flynn headed back to the boarding ramp, stopping just inside the ship's hatch and frowning. That was… certainly not what he'd been led to expect from the new electrical engineer. At all.

Here we go again…

*****

The next time the buzzer to his office went off, Keith didn't even look up from the service record he was studying. There was no reason to keep poring over this file. He was about to get his answers. But he couldn't help it…

"Enter."

The door softly swished open. Keith slowly raised his eyes from the datapad he was looking over, blinking. He knew him, all right. Or at least, he remembered him. "You're…"

The young man straightened and offered a perfect salute. "Ensign Cameron Starr, reporting, sir."

You've got to be kidding.

It came rushing back to him in an instant. He'd been on shore leave from the Vesuvius, dropping by the Academy to visit some old instructors. Captain Arleone in Personnel Management had asked if he'd give the class a talk—how could he refuse? He was one of the youngest Commanders in the Alliance, his career already being cited as an inspiration to new students. He'd gladly agreed.

Starr had been in that class. More to the point, Starr had been there after that class. When Sky Marshal Wade's daughter, apparently a little too impressed, had grabbed Keith and kissed him out of nowhere… which in itself would have been an awkward embarrassment. Add the Sky Marshal walking in right then to pick up his daughter for lunch, and the next thing he knew he'd been off the Vesuvius and awaiting his fate at the hands of politicians.

And here he was.

With some effort, Keith shook himself from the memory. "Well, now I remember where I've seen you before."

Starr blinked. "You remember me?"

"Hard to forget, considering the circumstances." He set his datapad aside and exhaled. "So, Mr. Starr, why did you request my command? Most people wouldn't request an Explorer Team assignment, especially not with your qualifications. And I would think, after the last time we saw each other, I wouldn't be a very good role model."

"Not a good role model?" the new comms officer repeated, dumbfounded. "Sir, the talk you gave was amazing. I'd never heard anything like it." He paused a moment, frowning. "…Also, Jenna was an idiot."

Keith studied him carefully. Maybe it had been a good talk—he didn't remember much of it, considering what had happened afterwards. A good talk still didn't seem like enough. "You understand you're only raising more questions. What did I say that makes a promising young officer request an Explorer Team? I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of what Captain Arleone intended."

"Probably, sir." Starr shuffled his feet a little. "Um, it's just… I've got this family tradition, you know? There's been a cosmonaut or Alliance naval officer in my family almost nonstop since the 1960s." Keith's eyes widened, that was quite the pedigree. "I heard all this stuff about the family legacy growing up, then all my Academy instructors were all about ambition and doing what's best for my career. Then you went up there and talked about tradition and honor and duty and it just… it really hit home. So I was waiting to ask you some questions, but after Jenna, well…" He shrugged sheepishly. "I looked up all I could about you instead. Your records, your dedication, doing things the right way—you even earned a Crystal Spur! I just… wanted to serve under someone like that, sir. So here I am."

Blushing at the praise, Keith suddenly had a realization. My god, Kleid was right. He kind of is a Crystal Spur fanboy. Maybe he'd keep that to himself. "I see. Well then, welcome to the—"

He was cut off by the door bursting open, and a dark-haired kid in a rumpled Aerospace Division uniform barged into the room. He was wearing the single stripe of an aerospace cadet—distinct from an Academy cadet—and skidded to a halt as if he'd run the whole way here. "Brennan reporti…" That was when he seemed to notice there was one more person than expected in the room, and he trailed off with a sheepish grin.

"Um…" Cam eyed the intruder, but wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Uh… hello?" Keith seemed to have the same issue, but recovered much quicker. "Do you know how to knock, cadet?"

"Yeah…" Daniel made a face. He knew how to knock, he just… forgot sometimes. This is what you get for being early.

Keith looked between the two kids and sighed. He was pretty sure he knew who the cadet was, but it didn't hurt to double check. "I'm guessing you're Brennan?"

Daniel coached himself for a moment before answering. Be respectful. Be respectful. "If not, I'm not sure why I said 'Brennan reporting.'" That was totally respectful.

"…Right." Keith sighed. Definitely Brennan. Maybe if the cadet hadn't barged in like that, he would've actually heard the first introduction. "Well, the two of you are both bridge crew. So, since you're both here…" Keith trailed off as Daniel sat in the chair on the opposite side of his desk, smiling at him.

Though the commander didn't react immediately, Cam did. "Dude, you don't sit when your commander hasn't invited you to."

Daniel blinked. "Who the fuck are you?" Who did this kid think he was? The bar on his uniform was that of an ensign, the naval equivalent to an aerospace cadet. Screw that. He barely tolerated being scolded by superiors, he definitely wasn't going to take it from someone of equal rank.

"Especially when you're first reporting, and especially when it's someone like Commander Kogane," Cam continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"Oh god." Daniel couldn't tell if this kid was dishing out some cringy ass kissing, or if he was just a fanboy. Neither of those options impressed him much.

Before he could say anything else, his earlier question finally caught up to Cam. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm Ensign Starr."

"Daniel." He gave a small wave as he introduced himself.

Keith had been grimacing throughout the exchange. This didn't bode well for bridge crew efficiency. Maybe he should at least make an actual proper introduction, seeing as these two obviously didn't know how. "Yes, he's Ensign Cameron Starr. Starr, this is Cadet Daniel Brennan."

Cam looked between Brennan and the commander, scowling slightly. There was still a disrespectful smirk on the cadet's face, and he didn't like it. "Dude, you're crazy. Show the Commander some respect." How someone could disrespect protocol so blatantly was completely beyond him.

"And you're a kiss ass. That's a whole other kind of crazy," Daniel snapped back. Fanboy needed to chill.

"Excuse me?!" Cam growled. Who did this guy think he was?

"Are you deaf too?" Daniel had never understood that. Why did people always say 'Excuse me?' as if they hadn't heard him? It was clear they definitely had heard him.

"Boys, enough." Keith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a little frustrated with how this was going. Time to regain control. "As I was saying, you're both on bridge crew, which means you both report directly to me. Mind your manners and your language."

"Yes sir. Apologies, sir." Cam blushed, embarrassed by his behavior. The new arrival had just been so infuriating.

Daniel raised an eyebrow at Cam's blush before responding. "Yeah… real sorry." He wasn't, but oh well. With this guy, he was sure he'd be apologizing for lots of things he wasn't sorry for.

His insincerity wasn't at all lost on Keith; it was obvious how he'd gotten this assignment. "However, Mr. Starr is right. I didn't give you permission to sit, Mr. Brennan."

Mr. Brennan. Daniel rolled his eyes. He was one of those, great. "Noted."

Keith's eyes narrowed at his attitude, but for now he decided to let it go. Pick your battles. He's going to drive me to drink. "Regardless, I believe we're done here. You'll both report to the ship by 0800 tomorrow morning. Hangar L4-West."

"Yes sir," Cam said immediately.

"Sounds good." Daniel went back to smirking. "Won't be early this time. Promise. See you tomorrow, um…" He trailed off, realizing he'd forgotten the fanboy's name. "Fanboy."

Keith just wanted them to leave before starting up again. "Good. Dismissed."

Cam saluted and glared at Daniel as he left. Daniel just smirked and rolled his eyes at the glare, then shot Keith a mock salute before walking out. This was going to be a fun assignment.

*****

Pidge was nervous. He wasn't about to admit to being nervous, but he was nervous nonetheless.

Faraday had been called away soon after he'd left Commander Kogane's office. Suboptimal. He didn't generally like her staring over his shoulder, but he wasn't sure he liked her being gone for this, either. Going to a new assignment always felt a bit like… what was that game his old groupmates had joked about? Rushing roulette? Russian roll it? Something like that. He would just have to do his best and hope it was sufficient, which…

…Well, he'd been told there was a first time for everything.

The bay door of Hangar L4-West was open, revealing a ship that reminded him of a huge silver streamray. Only one person was immediately visible, working on the landing gear. He looked human—black hair, dark brown skin, unremarkable build—and did not seem to be at all aware someone was coming up behind him as he crouched next to an access panel.

To be fair, sneaking up on people was a talent of Pidge's. Much more so than interacting with them.

He stopped a few feet away from the other specialist, waited a moment to see if he'd been noticed, then spoke up. Quietly, so as not to startle him too much—that lecture had been drilled into him thoroughly. "Hey."

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Humans. Fine. "HEY."

The voice snapped Vince out of his focus and he jumped, turning to see… what now? There was a rather angry face glowering down at him through slightly tinted glasses. "Um…?" He straightened, noting with a little detachment that someone here was finally shorter than him. In fact the stranger was very small, and looked a little too young not to belong at the Academy…

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Commander Kleid," he said with barely concealed irritation.

Vince was a bit irritated too, to be honest. He hated being interrupted. But he tried to push it aside… this must be the other guy Flynn mentioned. What had his name been? "Are you, uh, Stokes?"

The intruder did not seem sure how to respond to that. Finally he muttered, "None of your business."

"Uh…" It had been a yes or no question! "What?"

"Would you just…" Angry Kid paused, crossing his arms and scowling. "Would you please just tell me where to find the Lieutenant Commander."

There were probably opsec protocols here, but they were on the Garrison grounds, and letting Flynn deal with this guy sounded wonderful. "Oh, he's uh… with the engines. He said to just yell if I needed him."

Angry Kid didn't move. "So… yell?" he said impatiently after they stared at each other for a few more moments.

Why don't you yell? crossed Vince's mind, but it didn't seem like the correct way to deal with this. Who is this guy? Taking a deep breath, he turned to the boarding ramp and gave it the best he had. "FLYNNNNN!"

The other guy sprang back, eyes wide. "Komora sa kye?!" There was suddenly a knife in his hand. Vince hadn't even seen him draw it. But he saw the dark glint of the blade, felt adrenaline surging… the wire he was holding crackled and sparked violently, and he dropped it with a startled yell.

On the upside, the burst of lightning backed Angry Kid off more. On the downside, he'd been on this job maybe fifteen minutes and was already causing explosions. For another very long few seconds, they glared at each other through the faint ozone haze. What is wrong with this guy?

Evidently he wasn't the only one wondering that. "What was that for?"

"You're asking me?" Vince pointed to the knife. "What's that for?"

"It's a knife," the stranger answered immediately, dropping into a clear defensive stance. "It's for cutting things. Or stabbing, if necessary." His eyes flickered down to the burnt wire. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" Vince's jaw dropped. "Me?!" Angry Kid just kept glaring, and there was still no sign of the chief engineer. "If I yell for Flynn again you aren't going to stab me, are you?"

"If you—" He trailed off, staring blankly for a moment. "…Since when do humans take things so literally?"

"You said to yell!"

"Jalekya…"

Oh, now that wasn't nice… whatever it was. Vince frowned at him, eyes darting back to the knife, debating on whether he should really yell again or not; that answer had not been a no.

Flynn had actually heard the first yell, the Vagrant was just a large ship. As he reached the boarding ramp he heard an unfamiliar voice snarling an unfamiliar word in a decidedly hostile tone; that seemed less than ideal. He jumped off the side of the ramp and turned to see…

Faex. "Drop it!"

Oh thank god. Vince would never have imagined the sight of Flynn—let alone Flynn looking furious and holding a very scary-looking firearm—could fill him with the kind of relief it did right then. He caught his eye, trying with all his might to get help! across without speaking it, and got a barely perceptible nod in response.

Angry Kid did not drop the knife. He did calmly return it to its sheath as he turned, seeming neither startled nor particularly bothered by the large man with a large gun pointed at him. "Lieutenant Commander Kleid?"

"…Yes," he answered warily, lowering his gun… slightly. The stranger's nonchalance was unsettling. "Who exactly are you, and why are you threatening my electrical engineer?"

In response he drew up straight, saluting as though he hadn't just pulled a knife on Flynn's electrical engineer. "Specialist Stoker reporting, sir."

Vince blinked. Seriously? Okay, so he wasn't Stokes—but it seemed like he could have just said that earlier…

Flynn seemed to share his disbelief; it took him several long seconds to get words out. Finally he gestured to the back wall. "My office is on the right," he said icily. "Go and wait."

"Yessir." Stoker nodded calmly and brushed by Vince without another word.

That… had seemed way too easy. Flynn stared after him until the office door closed, then turned to look at Vince, who still looked stunned and slightly terrified. Understandable. Maybe this was the military, but having a crewmate pull a weapon on you in the hangar was rather outside the normal realm of expectation.

Then again, based on Stoker's file, maybe it should have been more expected.

Holstering his gun, he took a cautious step towards Vince. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Neither of those questions had easy answers right now; Vince opened his mouth and let out a couple of ragged squeaks before actual words came forth. "I'm in one piece, and uh, I don't know."

"You don't know why our systems analyst just pulled a knife on you?" He sighed, looking at the door again. "Honestly sounds about right."

"He said he wanted you, and I said you said to yell for you, and he said to yell. So I did. And he pulled the knife, and uh, well, full disclosure, the wire I was holding sparked."

…Oh. And here they were with the other problem. Flynn looked down at the wire, which was still smoking a bit, and the diagnostic screen it had landed on, which was bearing a quite large scorch mark. "Yes, yes it did." Looking between Vince and the door where Stoker had vanished, he shook his head in bewilderment. "Does the Academy not teach anger management anymore?"

"I've had a few lectures on it," Vince grumbled, feeling heat rush to his ears. It's just never really the problem.

Flynn studied him for a moment, then picked up the diagnostic tablet and rubbed the soot off with his sleeve before handing it back. "I'd better go deal with him… going to be alright here? That middle door is a break room if you need a few minutes, there are decent couches."

Though he appreciated the offer, a break was the last thing Vince wanted right now. Wiring calmed him. Thinking about stabby crewmates did not. "I'd rather just get back to the work."

"Okay." Flynn patted his shoulder; he seemed much less scary now. "I'll be back sooner or later."

Nodding, Vince watched him go before turning back to the landing gear. Better him than me.

*****

Cam was at the gym; he'd needed to blow off some steam. That… that Brennan guy had completely ruined his first impression. Barging in like that, really? He sighed, trying not to think about that brat anymore. The treadmill had done a pretty good job of helping him work through his annoyance. He'd taken a short rinse and now it was time for nice relaxing steam. Pushing on the door to the sauna, Cam smiled. This was just what he needed.

His smile disappeared almost as soon as it appeared.

Sitting in the corner of the room was none other than Brennan. Of course he was here. The universe was obviously punishing him for… well, for something. They made awkward eye contact for a minute before Cam decided that he wasn't going to let him ruin his steam too, and sat down on the opposite side of the room. He pointedly ignored his new crewmate; it would be good practice for the future.

Daniel, on the other hand, wasn't interested in being ignored. All he could focus on was the awkward silence. He wasn't a fan of silence in general, but awkward silence was the worst. It didn't last very long before he had to say something. "So, uh… you got the hots for Kogane or something?" It was an honest question, considering how he'd fanboyed earlier.

"What?! I am not—I don't—I'm not even gay! And certainly not for a superior officer!" Cam protested. Daniel smirked.

"Too bad, you're kind of hot. But for not being gay you sure did fawn over his ass in there."

Cam chose to just ignore the first part of that. "I admire him, okay? He's a good officer, and a good man, and if it weren't for… stuff… he'd still be at the top of the list when instructors are suggesting role models. Am I supposed to not look up to him?"

Of course that's all there is to it. Daniel rolled his eyes."Oh you're supposed to look up to him, I've heard all about it. More than once." Many of his professors had tried that shit. They'd told their classes to model themselves after a few different officers. Kogane had been one of them, but he'd never met the guy before today. "Didn't know anyone actually did it."

Nodding earnestly, Cam continued, either missing or ignoring his sarcasm. "He was one of the youngest Commanders in the Alliance! And then that stupid bitch…" He fell silent, cheeks going bright red.

Oh? "Ooooh, we gonna gossip? What'd the stupid bitch do? And which stupid bitch? There's a whole lot of them around here." Maybe he's not a completely lame fanboy.

"What? We can't gossip about our commander!" Cam shook his head. "It's against protocol."

Sigh. Nope, he was back to being a lame fanboy. Hot, but lame. But calling people stupid bitches was against protocol too, so maybe there was hope if he just pushed a little harder. "You're on an Explorer Team, dude. You can bend protocol a little. Hell, it's probably expected. Now spill."

"I don't like you much, just so you know." Cam glared.

"Really? Between the glaring and the scoldings I would've thought we were best friends," Daniel retorted, rolling his eyes. Then he sighed. He was doing it again. That thing where he'd be a complete ass and people, for whatever reason, wouldn't want to be his friend. It hadn't taken long at all.

Cam sighed too. Brennan was an ass, but they were going to be working together. A little bonding couldn't hurt. Hopefully.

"Okay, fine. Commander Kogane came to my Personnel Management class and gave a talk. I was really impressed, so I stayed after class to ask him some questions. But one of my classmates, Jenna—Jenna Wade, she's Sky Marshal Wade's daughter. She was always a bully who thought she could get away with anything." Cam's tone dripped bitterness. He'd met a few others like her; children of high officers who thought they were entitled to just coast through the Academy. He couldn't comprehend it, and he'd have matched his heritage against any of them. "She grabbed the Commander and kissed him right there in front of everyone… including the Sky Marshal standing in the doorway, it turned out."

"Wow…" Daniel winced. "Never met that particular stupid bitch. Met her dad though." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Nice guy." They had in fact met more than once; the contempt was deep and mutual.

"Oh yeah. Great guy. The look on his face, I thought he was going to have heart failure."

"Too bad he didn't." Daniel paused a moment before smirking. "That explains how Kogane got this job. How'd you get kicked here?"

Cam took a moment to reply; he knew exactly how this was going to go over. "I… like I said, I admire him. I read up on his career and thought he's the kind of commander I wanted to learn from, even if it is on an Explorer Team."

Oh for… Daniel wasn't sure if he should laugh or roll his eyes. "You asked to be here?"

"Yeah, I did."

He probably shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. "You may not be gay, but you totally have a thing for that guy."

Glare. "You're horrible, Brennan."

"And that's why I got this assignment!" Daniel had been trying for a laugh, maybe even a smile. He got neither.

"…You're proud of that aren't you?" Cam asked after a few moments.

"Well, yeah. I don't fit military standards, but I'm too good to throw away." Those hadn't been the exact words used by his professors or the Commodore, but that had been the gist of it. "That's like a badge of honor." Daniel smiled, but Cam just rolled his eyes

"You're crazy."

"I think you've mentioned that before."

"Well it needed repeating."

"Probably." Alright, maybe the guy really wasn't all that bad. The fanboy thing would definitely need to be worked on, but he seemed scrappy. Daniel could work with scrappy.

"So, if you're such a runty brat with obvious issues with authority…" Between his behavior in the Commander's office and, well, his mouth, him not being a fan of authority hadn't been a big jump in logic. "…why the hell did you join up in the first place?"

"A runty—a what?!" Daniel had heard the question, but he was more concerned with the 'runty brat' part. What did that even mean? Was he being called small? He was taller than the fanboy was!

Cam eyed him slyly. "I didn't stutter. Maybe you should see a doctor and get your ears cleaned out? Could be part of your problem…"

Huh. That was actually a semi-impressive insult. "And here I thought you were just a fanboy with no redeeming qualities." Smirk. "I joined for the action. Mainly flying, but I guess there weren't any Explorer Teams needing a fighter pilot. Shooting is fun too."

Cam made another small but accurate jump in logic. "So adrenaline junkie."

"I prefer the term daredevil," Daniel corrected. Adrenaline junkie made him sound like, well, a junkie. "And what about you? Why'd you join? I'm assuming being Kogane's ultimate fan wasn't the initial goal?"

"…Would you stop? I just admire him! Maybe you should stop mocking and try learning from him too, you could sure use it."

Sigh. If they were going to get along he was going to have to nip that in the butt. "Alright, that's it. I'm declaring your love for Kogane a no-no topic."

"I don't love him!" Cam snapped. "For crying out loud, I just—"

"—Ah! Ah!" Daniel wagged his finger at him. "What'd I say?"

"Know what, fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. "You stop calling me fanboy, I'll stop defending myself with why he's worth looking up to, deal?"

"Deal. Now answer the question. Why'd you join the military?"

That topic could probably get him in trouble too; he doubted Daniel cared much about history. "Family tradition. Plus I needed off the moon."

Daniel's eyes widened slightly. Maybe he really was kind of interesting. "You grew up on the moon? That's pretty cool, dude."

"Yeah. Bazadva. Base Two." Cam didn't sound nearly so enthused. The moon had a certain mystique about it, to people who didn't live there. The original colonies had been kept almost fully intact. No domes, no terraforming, just a living relic being preserved for posterity. "There is nothing to do up there. My Granny raised me, she was Russian… very Russian. If I hadn't gone into the military I'd just be on a nonstop vodka bender."

"Yeah? My grandma's Korean. Hates me." Well really she hated his father—totally understandable—and him by association—not as understandable. Oh well. "And I don't care how boring the moon is, it has to be way cooler than Utah. Nothing but suburb-filled desert." He smirked. "Vodka wasn't my thing though. Breaking into abandoned warehouses and blowing shit up was more my style."

Cam just stared at him, again. "And you're back to showing that you're insane."

"I was bumped straight to an Explorer Team for a reason, y'know."

"Obviously." The steam, and this conversation, had done all it could for him. He stood up, hand on his towel to make sure it was secure. If it fell he was certain he'd never live it down. "Guess I'll, uh, see you around. Weird runty brat."

Daniel groaned, annoyed. "And by 'around' do you mean tomorrow at 0800? …And stop calling me that! What does that even mean?" He better not be calling me small.

"You don't want to know." Cam grinned. "Later, brat."

"Whatever man."

Cam hightailed it out of there at full speed. Just like always. He wasn't running from his new crewmate. Of course he wasn't.

Watching him disappear, Daniel just shook his head, snickering. They were going to get along just fine.

*****

Flynn had never seen much use in having an office. The bay was his domain, he didn't need a damn desk to sit and be bored at. All he'd even bothered to bring into this one was a heap of technical manuals and a neon OPEN sign that he may or may not have stolen from the Garrison Grill on a drunken bet. It wasn't exactly going to lend a lot of gravity to the situation, but it was what he had.

Stoker was sitting in the chair across from the desk, his knees drawn to his chest, staring quietly at the floor. His green eyes flickered up as Flynn entered, and he met them icily.

"You're off to a hell of a start," he scowled, closing the door behind him. "I've read your file, I know how you earned your slot here, and I know Kogane's talked to you because I got a message from him and all it said was 'good luck'. So let's get something straight here: I don't care what you want to do in bar fights, but stabbing is not acceptable conflict resolution in my engine bay. Are we clear?"

He expected hostility, and quite possibly a knife. Everything in Stoker's file, let alone his introduction, said that would be the case. Instead the young man shrank back slightly, lowering his eyes back to the floor. "Yessir. It was a misunderstanding."

A misunderstanding?

There were several things Flynn wanted to say about that, but he bit them all back. The kid—at this moment he suddenly looked very much like a kid—seemed completely sincere. No sense pushing until he got the expected hostility; he'd take this.

Figuring out how the hell that had been a misunderstanding seemed like a priority, though. "Explain."

Stoker nodded without hesitation, speaking in a quietly clinical tone. "I asked him where to find you. He said he could yell for you. I didn't expect him to mean literal yelling, and reacted poorly." Frown. "Then he set off sparks, which seemed wholly unnecessary."

How two identical stories could barely resemble each other, depending on the speaker, was fascinating. "You didn't think pulling a knife on him might also be wholly unnecessary?"

"Yessir. It was an overreaction." He looked back at the floor for a few moments. Somehow he seemed more focused than chastised, as if he were trying to remember something. "Do I need to apologize?"

"…That would be the best course of action, I think." What the hell?

Almost as soon as he'd said it, Stoker stood and turned to the door. Then he paused. "Should I do it now?"

Flynn rather doubted Vince would want to see him right now, but putting it off didn't seem likely to be productive. Maybe it would settle things down. "Best you do."

Nodding, the young man slipped out the door without another word. No way in hell was he going out there alone. Following a little behind the new wrenchling, he found his hand wanting to go to his sidearm, just in case… he resisted the urge. If he could not need to pull a gun on a subordinate again, that would be ideal.

Sure enough, Vince did not look thrilled to have Stoker turn up again; he gave Flynn a mildly betrayed look. Stoker ignored the tension. "I came to apologize for the knife," he muttered as it became evident Vince wouldn't speak first. "My name's Pidge." He gave a short nod of greeting.

It was all Vince could do not to let his jaw drop. Um… what was he supposed to say to that? The absence of the word sorry wasn't lost on him, but did he point it out? No, no. His mothers had raised him to be a gentleman. "I accept your apology," he said a little stiffly, then attempted a smile. "I'm Vince. Sorry about the sparks."

Pidge just nodded. Was that an acceptance? That was probably an acceptance…

"Can you two manage to not kill each other?" Flynn asked, looking warily between them. He still had to decide whether he was going to second waiving Stoker's probation or not, and clearly that decision would take some time.

"Wait, each other? …Uh, I mean, sure."

"I'm just here to do a job, sir."

…That was probably the best he could hope for right now.

*****

"You will be the last to enter, and expected to address the hall. Whatever greeting is customary for your people will be appropriate. Remember that you are an honored guest here, and have nothing to fear."

Romelle nodded as Kalindra ran her through the etiquette primer one more time. Earlier she'd focused on every detail. Now she was mostly asking for the familiarity… something, however slight, to ease her nerves. She had been self-conscious since she'd arrived, and now—standing just outside the banquet hall, waiting for the page to announce her—she felt very underdressed.

Truthfully, the skimpy outfit was not quite as unpleasant as she'd expected. It was surprisingly comfortable, the fabric feather-soft, the gold accents and strings of crystal separated from her skin by silky gauze. She certainly would not be comfortable wearing this in front of her family, but at least the discomfort wouldn't be physical… perhaps it really was some kind of Drule tradition.

The announcement seemed to come far too quickly. "Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Romelle of the House of Lachesis of Pollux."

No turning back now. I am a princess of Pollux. My dignity is not to be questioned.

Romelle squared her shoulders and held her head high as she walked into the room. She saw the upset looks on her father and brothers' faces, and the glance King Zarkon shot his son upon seeing her—perhaps he didn't approve either. However, the look on the Prince's face made her shiver.

Stopping before the head table, Romelle curtsied. "King Zarkon. Prince Lotor. Father.  Brothers. Guests. It is a pleasure and honor to be here with you this evening."

Zarkon rose to his feet. "Princess Romelle, we welcome you to our world, and soon to our family. Please, child, rise and join us."

Romelle rose and nodded her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty. It would be my honor to join you."

Zarkon held a hand out to her, waving her around the table to the open seat between him and Lotor. Her father and brothers were seated on the other side of the king. Avok, her oldest brother, was whispering furiously into her father's ear, who slowly held his hand up to silence him.

Romelle moved to the empty seat and Lotor stood, pulling the chair out for her. "Thank you, Your Highness," she murmured politely.

"You're welcome." He leaned closer to her and whispered directly into her ear. "You look ravishing."

She blushed. At least someone was appreciative of her attire? "Um… thank you, Your Highness."

He responded with a smile that bared brilliantly white teeth and glinting fangs. Immediately she had to fight down a flinch; it looked so predatory, but then, the Drules had fangs. They couldn't very well smile without showing them, could they? What else could she expect?

Lotor stroked her hair, then took his seat and lifted her hand, kissing it. It would be very rude to shiver, skimpy clothes or not… the heat in her cheeks was spreading to most of her face, anyway. The prince released her hand after a moment, and his gaze turned to his father, who was still standing and clearing his throat for attention. Which couldn't possibly have been heard throughout the hall… it seemed directed quite specifically at one prince.

"Friends and subjects, we are here for two important celebrations. We welcome the planet Pollux as valued allies of the Ninth Kingdom. A toast first to their wisdom, and a glorious future together!"

Voices rang throughout the hall. "To the wisdom of Pollux!" Romelle didn't raise her glass—she knew that would be a breach of protocol, being after all a subject of the toast—but it made her feel all the more conspicuous as everyone around her toasted and drank.

Zarkon smiled as the goblets clinked down, a smile somehow much less disturbing than his son's. "And now, my subjects, I ask you all to formally welcome the avatar of our alliance. Princess Romelle, the first a'kuri of my first and only son, who shall soon be an honored Princess of Korrinoth and our kingdom."

Now she felt even more self-conscious, as more cheers rang out through the hall. "To Romelle, a'kuri of Lotor! Long may she stand at his side!"

That word again. Romelle was much more confident in her fluency in Drakure than she was in either her clothing or her impending courtship, but some nuances escaped her. Swallowing hard and gathering her courage, she looked to Lotor. "Your Highness, if I may… what is an a'kuri?"

He set his glass down and raised an eyebrow, then smiled again. "You must feel free to ask me anything, Princess. A'kuri is the title of honor for one being courted."

Feeling free to ask him things was out of the question, but she did relax slightly. "Thank you," she murmured, and took a drink of her water to give herself an excuse to look away.

A first course was being served now, delivered by servants in fine vestments: some kind of pale, pulpy fruit drenched in a rich red sauce, sprinkled with… something else red and unidentifiable. Romelle had never seen anything like it. Her first bites were tentative, but she was again surprised to find it quite tasty.

"Meskotha," Zarkon commented beside her, and she jumped slightly. "A delicacy from our ancestral homeworld. Eating meskotha signifies the beginning of a great journey, and brings fortune to the endeavor. Do you like it?"

"It is delicious," she said softly, but truthfully. And I can use all the fortune I can get.

Once the fruit was done, servants brought water and wine around. Lotor took a long drink of his water, then looked at her. "Come with me, Princess. The most auspicious time to formally begin our courtship is immediately after the meskotha is eaten." This time when he bared his fangs she had no doubt it was predatory. "It's just a small ceremony."

A small ceremony. How bad could that be? She nodded and went to stand—he motioned for her to stop, then rose and pulled out the chair for her. Unsettling as he was, at least he was courteous… she would get used to his mannerisms in time. Wouldn't she?

The banquet hall was arranged around a raised stage. A hush fell over the guests as they approached it, and Romelle braced herself. She'd already been up in front of this crowd once. She could certainly do it again. Lotor extended his hand to help her up the steps, and she accepted with a slight blush.

That blush became much less slight as he pulled her forward and caught her in a deep, hungry kiss.

A small ceremony?!

Reflex was screaming for her to push him away. She might have even made a halfhearted attempt at it—he didn't react, but drew back a moment later. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her brothers looking stunned, her father grimly resigned. Bandor, her younger brother, looked away, and Avok turned to reassure him.

Lotor's voice drew her full attention back to him. "The first gift of many," he murmured, tracing his hand up her arm. "Did it please you?"

Her blush wasn't going anywhere, especially not when his fingers started playing with one of the fastenings on her shoulder. She'd never been kissed like that before, and this didn't seem like the place to try to figure out whether she'd actually liked it. Only one answer was acceptable here. "I… am honored, Your Highness."

He smirked slightly. She felt the fastening he'd been toying with give way, letting one string of crystal slide down her shoulder. "I could honor you further," he offered, moving on to another clasp. "We could fully consummate our alliance here and now, before the eyes of all."

What?! That didn't sound like a small ceremony in the least. No. You must be strong. For Pollux… she fought down the screaming desire to push him away and flee. There was nowhere to go, and no doubt she wouldn't pay the price alone. "If… if that is your custom, Your Highness…"

A flutter of gauze fell away, and he leaned forward to kiss her bare shoulder. "A ruler creates his own customs, dear a'kuri. Come, let us set a new tradition in motion today…"

She shivered as his lips touched her; she definitely didn't like that. Especially not here, not now, not like this… her eyes flickered up to the main table again. King Zarkon's eyes were narrowed in cold focus. Avok looked about ready to leap from his seat, while Bandor looked like he wanted to run away as badly as she did.

Her father's gaze was locked on his plate, and she gave him a smoldering glare of betrayal. You sentence me to this and won't even look me in the eye? For half a second, she lost sight of everything but fury. Then Lotor's hand went to her breast, and all hell broke loose.

*****

It had been coming on since Romelle had first entered the room in that ridiculous dress—dress was too generous, really. King Kova had been trying more and more desperately to keep his elder son under control, to not ruin the alliance with his temper. But some things couldn't be tolerated.

This treatment of Romelle was one of those things. In front of so many people, including her little brother? All the worse.

Avok himself wasn't certain whether the last straw was his sister's accusing look, Lotor's hands on her, or Bandor biting his lip and flinching away. Perhaps all of the above. Either way he was out of his seat before he knew it, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Enough! We were promised an alliance, not abuse and humiliation!"

His father grabbed his arm. "Avok, sit—"

"—No, Father. This was not the agreement!"

King Zarkon barely even reacted; one of his eyebrow ridges arched in a way that might have been skeptical, approving, or anything in between. He was difficult to read. His son, on the other hand, was not. He released Romelle and turned, placing a hand on his own sword with a scowl. "Insulting your hosts is a poor beginning to a working relationship."

"As is insulting your guests!" He vaulted over the banquet table without so much as knocking over a single glass, glowering up at the stage. "If you wish to make a vassal of Pollux you must earn it. Draw your sword!"

Lotor slowly looked him up and down, then nodded and turned to Romelle. If he'd touched her again Avok was sure he'd have lunged. But instead he calmly refastened her sleeve and murmured something to her; the low buzz of the other guests drowned it out, but she immediately rushed off the stage with a look of intense gratitude. Then he turned to him again. "Will you duel me for the honor of your sister and planet, Prince Avok? Come, then. I welcome it."

Avok stepped up to the stage, his eyes narrowed. "I will face you in any challenge, Prince Lotor."

The Drule prince sneered. "A battle to the death? We'll see just how—"

"—Lotor." King Zarkon scowled, slightly. "You are both royal heirs, and you will behave as such… and there is no need to so offend either Kusand or our new allies. A battle to the blood will suffice."

Though he'd known that was coming—Kusand, the god of hospitality, would certainly not care much for killing someone at a banquet being held in their honor—Lotor couldn't quite keep the annoyance from his tone. "Yes, Father." This Avok was large and strong and moved like a skilled hunter; fighting him to the death would be such fun. He drew his blade, flashing in the light. "To the blood, then."

The Polluxian drew his own sword. It was a dull gray, in contrast to the nearly glowing silver of Lotor's ceremonial blade. A weapon that had seen time and blood and battle. He respected it… immediately he lunged, trying to catch the other prince off guard, only to be easily parried.

Avok pushed him back and withdrew, his cloak billowing as he whirled around. The move reminded Lotor somewhat of a mongoose—that half-conscious thought made him halt in his second lunge, and Avok's worn blade arced just in front of his nose.

Baring his fangs in a genuine smile, Lotor stepped back and took a more defensive posture. This was enjoyable. Few opponents ever forced him to change his tactics. Almost immediately the Polluxian prince was bearing down on him, in a series of short slashes that were easy enough to block. He recognized them immediately. They weren't supposed to land, just to bait him into giving up an opening. Grinning, he parried just enough to keep Avok complacent, then feinted and lashed out with a strike that nearly caught his ribs.

A soft gasp that might have been Romelle caught his attention. Avok's, too, if the way his eyes narrowed was any indication; he wasn't enjoying this nearly as much as Lotor was. A shame, really. Maybe he'd come around in time.

All Avok wanted to do was end this as quickly as possible, but the Drule prince was skilled. For a moment he considered the possibility that he might lose this challenge. What would happen to Romelle then? What would happen to Pollux then?

No. Unacceptable. He gathered his wits a moment. Lotor had read his strikes before, and made it look so simple… he could use that. Launching into another series of very similar strikes, he met the other prince's eyes.

Oh, yes. Lotor knew what he was doing. Avok knew Lotor knew what he was doing. The only question was which of them would make the first move… but it wasn't a question. If Lotor was as good as Avok thought he was, he would move, and sooner than he had the last time.

Let him.

If he hadn't been anticipating it, the strike would have taken his blood and his hand. But he'd been waiting. Ready. As Lotor parried and moved in beneath his guard, he spun away and countered. There was momentary resistance, the tip of his blade catching either cloth or flesh, then Lotor was on him with his sword at his throat.

Both froze, staring at each other. Avok's eyes flickered to his blade for an instant. The slightest trickle of thick bluish blood was running down it from a scratch on the Drule's cheek.

Lotor grinned. "You're certain you don't want to fight to the death?"

Avok snarled. "I've defeated you fairly, according to your rules. Let my sister be."

"Oh, she's been safe since you challenged me. But I'm enjoying having a worthy opponent. Second blood, perhaps?"

A sharp clap interrupted them. Then another. King Zarkon was standing, slowly applauding as he looked over the combatants. "Very good, Prince Avok." He bared his fangs in an odd smirk. "Your strength is clear, and requires no more demonstration."

Lotor sighed, but grudgingly sheathed his blade. "Allies who cower prove themselves unworthy. Those who fight prove worthy of honor." He stepped down from the stage and knelt before Romelle, who visibly struggled not to back away as he took her hand and kissed it. "My apologies, my dear a'kuri. The test was necessary."

"Indeed. And instructive." Zarkon eyed Kova in a way that very much seemed to be asking why he hadn't stood up for Romelle; the king grimaced, while Bandor again flinched away at his side. "A new toast, my subjects, to honor Prince Avok and Pollux!" He raised his glass.

Immediately dozens of jewel-encrusted goblets rose up once more, catching the light, filling the banquet hall with flashes of brilliant color. "Honor to Prince Avok! Honor to Pollux!"

It could have been very gratifying… but the whole display only sent shivers down Avok's spine.

"That was a test?" he muttered under his breath as he took his seat. "A test? They would have humiliated Romelle before everyone here for a test? Barbaric."

"Hush," his father hissed back. "Don't ruin the goodwill you've won, or who knows what they might do?"

Who knows indeed? Avok went to sip his own wine, smelled something deep and coppery, and decided to drink water instead. And we're still going to leave her here with them? What happens when they want more? Will they take Bandor? Mother? How much more will we give up for this 'alliance'?

Servants were bringing the feast out now, making a point of bowing to him each time they passed the Polluxian delegation. Glancing down the table, he could see them treating Romelle with similar deference. It was all very impressive, and only served to make his skin crawl more.

What have we gotten ourselves into?