Cultural Exchange

[Jorrun Cyer]

Every day at 0500 it was the same. From his quarters, to bombardment observation and back was 200 meters. That route five times was a kilometer. Times five again was his requisite daily 5k run. Twenty-five minutes if he wasn't sandbagging. Not the best time, but he still kept it respectable. Normally, he'd just check off each leg of his run in his head, but today he wore a pedometer on his hip to keep time, because on the other side of his hip he carried an audio player with two earbuds jacked in. Not for music. It was something more educational.

Good Morning.

Ai'n Seeira.

"Ai'n Seeira."

Show me to the library, please.

Sesa an je nai'lethere, ja'i.

"Sesa an je nai'lethere, ja'i."

To the crew aboard the Alliance cruiser Eagle that he passed, Commander Cyer appeared to be talking to himself through exerted breaths in gibberish. They half-turned as he ran by, wondering if they'd heard him right.

Do you know the way to Bothawui?

Kache'i nau laaro Botha'i u?

"Kache'i nau laaro Bothawui?"

The linguistics program beeped a negative rebuke. Wiping sweat from his forehead as he continued running, Jorrun corrected himself.

"Kache'i nau laaro Botha'i u?"

After a run that was taxing him more mentally than physically, his pedometer beeped. He'd reached his five kilometer terminus. Slowing to a walk, he held his hands over his head, allowing himself a minute or so to return to equilibrium before heading back to his quarters to hit the sonics and get dressed. This was the last day he was to be posted aboard Eagle. His next posting would be challenging to say the least.Cha

[Jorrun Cyer]

It took fifteen minutes for Jorrun to run through sonics and the rest of his morning routine, all the while toiling with the mental gymnastics of Cizeri linguistics training. Another ten minutes to situate his uniform, and the chime to his quarters beeped. Commander Cyer walked to his desk, paused the linguistics program that was running there, and opened the door. The unmistakable figure of Captain Sudaw stood before him. The Ithorian spoke in his ponderous, stereo fashion.

"We've arrived at the Gordian Reach, Tag."

The use of his old nickname was disarming as usual, as he'd served with the Captain long enough to have earned it. It was also bittersweet to hear it now. They'd served together seven years. During that time, Jorrun had passed over three chances to skipper his own boat, because he believed in his Captain and his ship. And now...

"Thanks, Cap."

The Ithorian gestured in a wordless request to come into his quarters, and Jorrun stepped aside.

"No sign of the Cizerack galleon yet, but we're early and they're usually punctual."

Jorrun's orders were to embark at 0730, so they had a little time to burn.

"Anything I can do to shore things up before then, sir?"

Sudaw made a motion that was effectively the Ithorian equivalent of shaking his head.

"Purely a social call."

He produced a bottle of brown liquid from his jacket.

"General Dan calls this an 'old navy tradition'. I doubt that's true, but it's one I carry on anyway. Brew some caf. We're technically on duty."

Cyer had never seen his Captain drink before. First time for everything. He put on the caf pot, which was promptly filled from the wall interface with the ubiquitous dark beverage on which the Alliance Navy depended. Filling two cups, he passed them to Sudaw, who filled them the rest of the way with the 'brown sugar' he'd carried along. The aroma of whiskey clung to the aroma of caf, each battling the other for dominance. Cyer sipped from his cup, while Sudaw did...sort of the same, bringing his cup to the side of his neck for one of his two mouths to enjoy.

"Thank you, sir."

The Ithorian hummed, a droning sound that Cyer had learned to take as a good sound.

"No, Tag. Thank you. You've been a good second to me. As many times as I've tried to kick you off my ship to find a ship of your own and a promotion, now that you've finally taken an opportunity, I'm forced to realize just what we're giving up. You're a great officer."

It started to have the feel of a eulogy, and Jorrun shifted a bit where he stood. The Captain waved a hand a bit to allay any guilt.

"No cold feet. Go. Besides, I've already signed your papers, so it's officially an order anyway. I just came to tell you that it's an honor. This Cizerack Captain you'll be under, Ceergorra, I made sure to include in your transfer files the same. She needs to know exactly what a catch you are. I'm sure after your term with her ends, you'll have a pick from damn-near any posting you want."

Jorrun smiled wryly, sipping his spiked caf again.

"So when I come back, you'll hand over the Eagle's keys to me?"

A guffaw, as Sudaw's broad head shook with a little laughter.

"Nearly any posting, Tag."

They both laughed at that. Jorrun paused as he stared at his drink. His eyes went back up to Sudaw with question on his mind.

"Guess that excludes my slot as XO here, too?"

There was a bit of silence, punctuated by Sudaw taking another drink.

"Don't be afraid of greatness, Tag. You've got a lot of friends here, but you'd be doing a disservice to your uniform if you didn't think about the kind of man you know you can be. I want to see you in a Captain's chair, Tag. And deep down, you do too."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

When Huntress Captain Mdharra Ceergorra had taken command of the Saantaurra, there had been fault in the insulation beneath the desk in her office. She'd pulled up the deckplates once to inspect it - nothing more than a gap between two panels of rubberized foam, exposing a span of conduit that fed into the main power relays for the bridge. The conduit itself was intact, but when all was quiet and she was alone in her office, the captain could hear it vibrating beneath her feet. Over time she'd learned to recognize the subtle modulations in the sound caused by variations in the power grid - the tranquil hum of sublight transit, the deep, throaty swell of a hyperdrive spool, the bow-tight tension of a tactical alert. It told her nothing that a brief glance at the ship's status on her desktop holo could not tell her in far greater detail, but it was primal and instinctive, like a mother listening to the breathing of her sleeping child, a comforting presence while she sat reviewing performance reports or strategic missives from the Admiralty. She'd grown to take it for granted, up until she had left the Saantaurra in spacedock for his two-year refit and some overachieving maintenance crew had replaced the insulation.

It was the least of the changes that marked the end of her inaugural tour as mistress of a Korri-class battle galleon. Saantaurra's already state-of-the-art computer systems had been refurbished, and patches installed to fix the glitches that had surfaced during their tour of duty so the crew could go on to discover new ones. The experimental Saanja torpedo weapons remained, but the shielding that surrounded the volatile hypermatter conduits had been replaced with more efficient and durable materials, and the firing solutions had been updated. And the crew had been updated as well - over three thousand new faces roamed the corridors, including a fresh crop of midshipwomen straight from the Royal Naval Academy, all of them breathless, wide-eyed, and fairly useless.

It was all part of the normal life cycle for a ship of the line, but by the wisdom of the admiralty the Saantaurra had launched again missing one of his most vital components. As much as it had pained her to sign the transfer orders, Mdharra could not begrudge Commander Ajakeeri the honor and ambition of pursuing her own command; she had been an excellent first officer, and an indispensible aid to a rookie galleon captain. She had just begun to review available candidates for her replacement when the orders had come down from Admiral Kourrkourraa:

In acknowledgment of the continuing friendship and cooperation between the Carshoulis Cluster and the Alliance of Free Planets, and in support of further strengthening the bonds of alliance and mutual benefaction between the dominions of the Great Mother and the sovereign states of that Alliance, and with the aim of fostering cooperation and comradeship between the military forces of the Cizerack Pride and those of the Alliance Fleet, you are hereby requested and required...

When the military interfered with matters of state, they called it a coup. But when politicians interfered with the military, it was merely diplomacy.

A dizzying spread of department reports and performance curves floated in the hologrid above Mdharra's desk, herded roughly into some semblance of organization by her impatient fingers. A ship as large as the Saantaurra was a city and a corporation as well as a vessel of war. Mdharra could only hope her new XO was half the administrator Commander Ajakeeri had been.

"Brjidge to the Captaijn. One mjinute to the rendezvous pojint."

Fjinalljy. The Naala'in-born captain swiped the whole desktop of virtual documents aside, pulled on her crimson duty jacket, and marched out her office door and onto the bridge. The officer of the watch vacated the captain's chair and disappeared into the communications trench as Mdharra mounted the sun-shaped command dais and turned to face the swirling hyperspace vortex on the forward viewer. "Lock onto the Eagle's sjignal and prepare to drop from hjyperljight."

"Ajye, captajin," replied the helmswoman, a young lieutenant with a mane of coppery hair, and Mdharra realized she didn't yet know her name. "Droppjing from hjyperljight in fjive... four... three... two..."

Mdharra scarcely even swayed as the Saantaurra fell through the dimensional barriers that separated hyperspace from realspace. On the viewer, bathed in the golden light of the nearest star, hung the graceful cetacean form of a Republic-class star destroyer.

"Brjidge to Wjing Commander Karresou. Stand bjy to launch shuttle and honor guard. Communjicatjions, sjignal commander Eagle that Saantaurra awajits hjis new executjive offjicer."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Captain Sudaw stood alongside Jorrun as they waited for the Cizerack shuttle to approach. They'd said their goodbyes on their own time. This was now down to a matter of procedure. The deck crew continued to work around the periphery of the hangar, tending to their regular duties. As they bided their time, the Alliance Commander turned a dataslip over and over again in his hand, spinning it between his fingers as a way to pass some of the nervous energy. The slip contained two pieces of information that were almost certainly not needed, but he'd never think about not carrying along as a matter of etiquette - his orders, and his dossier. He didn't know much about Captain Ceergorra, but it was more or less expected as a Navy man that your skipper would know more about you than you did before you ever stepped on their ship. Of course, with a posting to an entirely different navy as a part of an exchange program, making that assumption could also land you with a bad first impression.

The Cizerack shuttle cleared the atmospheric field, immediately deploying struts that folded down from its fuselage to support a soft landing. The tones of scarlet, gold, and gunmetal of the ship stood in stark contrast to the muted and cool assortment of whites and greys that made up the destroyer's hangar. With a hiss of equalizing air pressures, the egress hatch unfolded at the side of the ship in two pieces, immediately followed by four Jaanni'saari marines. The tall uniformed males formed a box perimeter around the ramp, their scarlet blastoid armor glinting back some of the hangar's lighting, while their combat HUD visors glowed a pale yellow band across where their eyes should be.

Following the males, two female officers emerged. One wore a Jaanni'saari uniform, meaning she was in charge of the honor guard. The other wore a naval uniform.

"Welcome to the Eagle." Sudaw's voice thrummed in stereo. "I'm Captain Huro Sudaw, and this is Commander Jorrun Cyer."

[Miri Jitaurree]

"Cssssjirrrr. Csssssssjye-yurrrrrrr. Csssssjijijrrrrr. Gods damn jit."

Dress jacket, freshly washed and pressed, and every bit of piping and brass scrupulously scrubbed with a toothbrush. Hair, and ears, neatly trimmed and coifed to perfection. Boots polished and buffed down to the quantum level, to the point where they paradoxically reflected more light than was actually in the room. Three weeks spent feverishly studying her Basic, human cultures and customs, the history of the Galactic Civil War, and whatever she could find on Alliance military protocol. And now, at the outset of the most important cooperative mission between the Cizerack navy and a foreign power since the Clone Wars, Miri Jitaurree was going to make a fool of herself because the man's name was ljiterraljy unprrrrronouncssable.

Major Kajeelah Arrtaurro, resplendent and terrifying in her blood-red Jaanni'saari duty uniform, glanced over toward the midshipwoman from her seat on the other side of the shuttle with sphinx-like dispassion. "Relax. Thejy're not gojing to shoot jyou jif jyou get jit wrong."

The Meera'in midshipwoman blushed - which was painfully obvious across her pale cheeks - and dipped her white-tufted ears deferentially. "jYes, ma'am. jI mean, jI know, ma'am. jI just want to make a good fjirst jimpression."

Major Arrtaurro flicked her ears and looked away, which was enough to say that she wasn't going to waste sympathy on a nervous, prattling midshipwoman still wet behind the ears from the academy. Miri had quickly learned that while second-highest marks in your class might get you onto a Korri galleon, they weren't worth a sajoi's tail once you stepped aboard. Most of the other midshipwomen had served a year on a Seeva'fei frigate before their first Korri posting, if they got one at all. Consequently, the only crew aboard the Saantaurra who were younger than her were some of the cabin boys.

Miri folded her hands in her lap, stared up into the ceiling panels, and went back to silently rehearsing the formal greeting that she was to deliver in about--

"Dockjing wjith Eaglejin two mjinutes."

She twisted in her seat to look out the porthole just above the headrest and caught a glimpse of the Alliance destroyer, all rolling curves and graceful arcs like something that lived in the ocean, brilliant white against the void of space and trimmed in panels of red as the Old Republic ships used to be, before the Empire enforced its aesthetic philosophy of "gray, flat, and boring." Even the Pride ships under their boisterous liveries of orange, gold, and crimson were painfully utilitarian in their design, but Eagle - this was not just a vessel, but a symbol, one that pointed equally to the past and the future. Maybe, maybe, there would be more exchanges like this in years to come, and she could learn what it was like to serve on a ship like that.

The shuttle came about, and the Eagle swung out of her field of view, until with shocking suddenness the glowing edge of a docking bay force field passed over them, and they were in a cavernous hangar surrounded by racks of X-Wings, A-Wings, and B-Wings and scurrying deck hands in baggy green uniforms.

Moments later she was walking down the egress ramp onto the hangar floor alongside Major Arrtaurro and flanked by the quartet of Jaanni'saari marines, and then being greeted by a towering Ithorian and a dark-skinned hyooman male Miri recognized instantly from the dossier.

Major Arrtaurro and the honor guard stopped, as she knew they would, and left her to take the last few paces toward the Alliance officers. She spread her upturned arms and purred a greeting:

"Ja irra korra'nai, Captajin Ssssudaw. Captajin Ceergorra sendsss her warrrrmesst regarrrdss. jI am Mjidshjipwoman Miri Jitaurree, and wjith me jis Major Kajeelah Arrtaurro of the Jaanni'saari. jIt jis our dutjy and honor to escorrrt--" She swallowed just to make sure everything in her throat was well lubricated. "Commanderrr Csssjy-errrr to hjis new possst aboarrrd the Battle Galleon Saantaurra​."

[Jorrun Cyer]

The pomp of the Cizeri dress uniforms put the Alliance offers in a shabby disadvantage. They had striking lines that were reminiscent of Imperial garb, but the accents and colors were richer by order of magnitude. It had a way of making you shut up and take notice, that's for sure.

"Tell Captain Ceergorra we wish her well on her future voyages. I am honored to transfer my executive officer's commission to her command. May he be a credit to your ship, and may he serve her as faithfully as he served me."

The Ithorian gave the faintest of nods to punctuate his statement, and Jorrun stooped briefly to retrieve the small duffle containing his personal effects. With that in tow, he stepped forward. The midshipwoman's chewing of his name brought some amusement, though the Commander was at least thoughtful enough to keep that amusement away from his expression. She had the wide-eyed demeanor he'd seen so often in junior officers on their first posting, and if his assessment was correct, that kind of position could leave someone in a state where they could be knocked down by a feather.

"I'm ready."

No looking back now. Jorrun stepped into the perimeter formed by the Jaanni'saari honor guard, and the group filed in procession into the shuttle for their trip to Saantaurra.

[Miri Jitaurree]

There was nothing luxurious about a standard navy skiff. There was a modest cargo area with modular shelves and bracings for everything from provisions to light artillery - Miri quickly took the commander's duffel and secured it behind a length of crash webbing before leading him into the passenger compartment, where the ceiling was low enough that Cyer had to duck his head, and the marines, who brought up the rear, were nearly bent double. There were sixteen bucket seats in four rows of four with a narrow aisle down the middle. Miri gestured Commander Cyer into the frontmost seat to port and slid into the seat next to him.

"So, Commander, now that we can be a ljittle less forrrrmal," she said, still tamping down the clawhoppers doing backflips in her stomach, "jI've been assjigned as jyour adjutant and prjimarjy ljiajison to the crew. jI majy onljy be a mjidshjipwoman, but jI'm fluent in Basjic and can serve as jinterpreter jif necessarjy, and jI'm well-versed jin the protocols and forms for all the common dutjies of a fjirst ljieutenant aboard a Korri galleon. jIf jyou have a questjion jI can't answer, jI can fjind the answer for jyou. And jif jI can take the ljiberty, Commander, just to sajy what an honor jit jis to work wjith an offjicer of jyour... jyour..."

{{Gender,}} Major Arrtaurro coughed in Cizeri, and Miri's ears went red.

"...esteem," she finished as bravely as she could.

[Jorrun Cyer]

Did she come up for air?

Jorrun didn't fault that one bit. This was something of a landmark assignment. As young as she was, charged with this kind of task - she was no doubt fresh out of the Cana'daari academy. Eager to please, even if a little loose with protocol.

"I look forward to working with you then, Su'taun'rrou. I have a feeling I still have a bit to learn about Cizeri nuances."

There was a good bit he did know though, like exactly what the Major had said to fluster his young liason officer. He'd wondered what would be the biggest hurdle to overcome - his species, or his gender. The Commander leaned back in his seat, turning slightly to see the Jaanni'saari officer who'd mortified the midshipwoman.

"Fortunately for our crew, I don't issue orders from my genitals. I don't think anyone will need to strain to hear them."

He joked dryly, but with an expression that stated the Major might want to think before speaking. Jorrun returned to a more procedural topic to avoid any awkwardness.

"I understand the Saantaurra just had his refit? Were you a part of the shakedown tour?"

It was rapport building, but he also wanted to get a grounds-eye view of the state of the ship. He was certain it would be a topic of discussion with the Captain, but part of the XO's duties were to get a feel for these sentiments from the men, er, women themselves.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Major Arrtaurro merely stared forward into the pilot's cabin with plausibly deniable grin twitching at one corner of her mouth. Midshipwoman Jitaurree took a deep breath and recentered herself.

"No, Commanderrr, two jyears ago jI was..." Fjifteen was probably better left unsaid. "...ssstjill at the academjy. But jI've studjied Saantaurra's mjissjion recorrds extesnjiveljy. jI understand jit was qujite an eventful tour."

Arrtaurro's eyes flickered from her seat across the cabin. "Command wanted to sssee ourrr weaponsss in action, ssso we gave them a show. Prrrrjize monejy makessss a captajin popularrr wjith her crrrrew."

[Jorrun Cyer]

"Eventful would seem to be an understatement. Your ship made a lot of heads spin back home."

The Saantaurra's main weapon system was something that had kept Cyer's ears buzzing for nearly the entirety of the two years he'd been in service. Back then, the Pride was an unknown quantity, and stories of a show-stopping bombardment weapon being introduced to the galleon class ships had put the Admiralty on Dac on scramble mode. The reports were all second-hand until the Ryloth-279 incident. The very same galleon had a tense showdown with one of the Alliance's marauder corvettes. Due to what had to be sheer luck, nobody was killed in the mauling. The only recoverable telemetry from the attack showed a projectile of weaponized hypermatter.

What a difference two years makes. While the very same weapon was key in the development of the Starkiller Project, the Cizerack Trade Navy had nevertheless remained fairly mum about the specs on the original tactical cousin. It was called Saanja (Sundrop), and that was about all the Alliance was privy to at this juncture. Jorrun would likely be the first pair of human eyes to witness what the Cizerack had so painstakingly created.

The Major's comment caused Jorrun to turn in his seat again.

"Prize money?"

[Miri Jitaurree]

"A longssstanding trradition of marrrjitime trrrade securrrjitjy," Major Arrtaurro explained. "The Prrrride Mother pajyssss bountjy on all enemjy shjipsss and carrrrgo taken bjy a navjy crrrrrew. Captajin, offjicers, and crrrrew all get a sharrrre, down to the cabin bojysss." She grinned broadly. "jI made fjifteen thousand jin prrrjize settlementsss alone. jIf jyou'd been wjith ussss then, Commanderrr, jyou'd be a rrrrrjicherr man."

[Jorrun Cyer]

It was an interesting system - and one far removed from Jorrun's experiences. The Alliance preferred to capture ships when able, of course, but in their hand-to-mouth existence it was so they could fix them up, fill them with a skeleton crew, and throw them back against the Empire. Actively enriching your crew on the spoils of a capture had to be a tremendous incentive to bring back prey alive. Of course, the haul for a darling of the fleet like Saantaurra probably greased more paws than anything the home squadrons likely saw.

"Too bad we weren't allies back during the heavy fighting against the Empire, then. You probably could've retired off a Star Destroyer's bonus."

Of course there was always the possibility of a heavy engagement happening in the future, but the way the past year had gone, it appeared that the galaxy was settling in for a cold war instead of a hot one.

A proximity klaxon sounded from the skiff's pilot compartment, and Commander Cyer could see they were at last reaching the Saantaurra's hangar bay. Situated along the central hull between the main cargo holds and the superstructure that housed the engines, conning tower, and main weapons, the hangar allowed entry from port or starboard, and served craft as varied as skiffs and assault shuttles to the assorted squadrons of Tai'thaa interceptors and Keerta grapplers. In a way, all hangar bays shared a similar energy to each other, but the view as they touched down was of a bay that was busier and more cramped than most Alliance ships operated.

[Miri Jitaurree]

The skids had scarcely touched the deck before Major Arrtaurro rose from her seat and stalked toward the rear of the skiff with her marines in tow. Miri quickly popped to her feet and began moment fussing at the creases the five-point harness had left in her dress jacket.

"Major Arrtaurro's gone to preparrre the honor guarrrrd," she explained, and she clasped her hands behind her back so she could surreptitiously tick off the talking points on her fingers. "When we djisembarrrk, we wjill be grrreeted bjy Quartermjistress Harraull and Wjing Commander Karresou. Together wjith Major Arrtaurro, thejy rrrrepresent the most ssssenjior offjicers under jyour command. Quartermjistress Harraull wjill grrreet jyou as jI djid aboarrd the Eagle, jyou rrrespond jin kjind, and then we rrreport to the captajin. jI thjink that'sss everrrjything... Do jyou have anjy questjions, Commanderrr?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

He'd moved to the rear of the shuttle, securing his own duffel from the crash webbing as the midshipwoman briefed him on the go. Her run-down on protocol helped keep him two steps ahead of the program. It was familiar to Alliance protocol, but these types of receptions were usually reserved for the skipper. He hoped after this, his ceremonies of introduction would become more...brief.

"Sounds cut and dry, Su'taun'rrou. Let's go meet the crew."

The Commander paused, again self-conscious at how his own uniform paled in comparison to Miri's resplendent attire, and gave a curt tug at the seam of his jacket.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri waited at the summit of the gangway ramp as Arrtaurro whipped the marines into line, then glanced back at her commander with his duffel in hand and felt her ears sink. "Oh... Oh, no, Commanderrr, the ssstewards can come back forr jyour luggage. jI mean, jit wouldn't do for the fjirst offjicer to be seen carrjyjing hjis own--"

A shrill whistle pierced the stale air of the hangar outside, followed by Major Arrtaurro's voice roaring in Cizeri: {{Commander on deck!}}

Not knowing what else to do, Miri grabbed the straps of Cyer's luggage and slung it over her own narrow shoulders. He raised an eyebrow, and for a heart-shuddering moment she was afraid she'd offended him, but he accompanied her down the ramp without comment.

They emerged to see a corridor of scarlet armor and silver carbines, and to either side of the Jaanni'saari honor guard the deck crews had formed into ranks, deck mistresses in their carmine duty uniforms, flight technicians and engineers in darker rust-colored coveralls. At the end of the corridor, Major Arrtaurro had been joined by two more senior officers in full dress. The tallest of them, a saturnine specimen with sharply-angled cheekbones and dark, lank hair to her shoulders, stepped forward and saluted with a raised, open palm.

"Sorraar'erro'arrssorr'ssiborri," she purred in a silky voice. Next to Commander Cyer, Miri's ears flinched, and a few murmurs arose from the assembled deck crews, which were quickly and savagely silenced by their mistresses.

The raven-haired Cizerack continued in Cizeri. {{jI am Ljieutenant Commander Sorraarri Harraull, Quartermjistress of the Battle Galleon Saantaurra. On behalf of the captajin and crew, jit jis mjy dutjy and honor to welcome jyou aboard, Commander.}}

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun was promptly relieved of his luggage, to his chagrin. The posh treatment was starting to irritate. Hopefully he'd be able to attend to the restroom without an honor guard at the privy door or a su'taun'rrou handling the loo roll. There wasn't any time to protest it, and it probably wasn't worth taking his over-eager subordinate to task. The Commander and his midshipwoman disembarked under guard to their reception. The senior officers saluted their executive with raised open palms, and the Quartermistress addressed him.

"Sorraar'erro'arrssorr'ssiborri,"

Lieutenant Commander Harraull's salutation was correct.

Perhaps too correct. Jorrun glanced about, the murmur of Saantaurra's crew not escaping his notice. Eyes back on the Quartermistress again, he cleared his throat to address her in Cizeri.

"Suur'ai da chei, ne maai'a he-"

Jorrun paused, his a frown as he fumbled his words momentarily and corrected his syntax.

"...maai'a su'heerr, Cha'kaatra'rrou."

Finding his footing again, he continued.

{{ I'm honored to serve as your Commander, and look forward to meeting Captain Ceergorra so that we may begin our tour in earnest. }}

With a nod, Harraull dismissed the procession, accompanying the executive officer with the other senior staff and Miri to the lift that would carry them to the bridge. As the group began to file into the hangar lift and were away from the eyes and ears of their juniors, Jorrun paused outside the doors.

"Cha'kaatra'rrou, a word."

Summoning Harraull aside, he spoke low.

"In the future, I expect to be addressed with the proper title in the presence of our crew women."

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri did her best imitation of a wall panel as the air between Commander Cyer and Quartermistress Harraull thickened with tension. If Harraull was at all perturbed by the rebuke she gave no indication.

"jI beg forgjivenesssss, Commanderrrr, but there jis no prrrroper tjitle for a male offjicerrr of the navjy."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Still close to the Lieutenant Commander, Jorrun kept his voice low and cool as a glass of water.

"Then the female one will suffice."

Whatever his feelings on the matriarchy were, he wouldn't have any hand-wringing over it infect the sanctity of the chain of command. Innocent insinuations could quickly become poison on a ship if they weren't handled. If the women under his command thought any less of commands coming from a "sir", then he intended to disavow them of any confusion.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Harraull's eyes did not deviate from Cyer's, except for one owlish blink. "As jyou command, rrou'a."

Miri stood wide-eyed and stock still as the quartermistress and the commander joined them on the lift, and she tried very hard to keep her tail from beating a nervous tattoo against the wall behind her. Whatever expectations she'd had for this assignment now lay shattered on the floor - this was no insensate forrda who needed to be led by the hand through the subtleties of Cizerack sociology. No, he was charting his own path, somehow native and subversive all at once, and for Saanjara's sake, he was doing a better job at it than she could have.

The doors hissed shut, and a clipped command from Harraull sent them speeding up the conning tower with only the slightest sensation of inertia. A breath later, they spilled out onto the sprawling command deck, which held far more than just the bridge. A bank of six lift tubes stood more or less in the center of the complex, ferrying officers and crew rapidly from every section of the ship to and from its nerve center. Directly astern stood the chart house, with its floor-to-ceiling holoimagers and teams of analysts with glowing visors and earpieces scurrying about and tracking every transponder and astral body for a thousand light years; to port was central communications, and to starboard was Starship Operations, where commands relayed from the bridge were translated and delegated to whichever of the ship's company and crew of 12,800 was best positioned to carry them out. Around the perimeter were various offices and conference rooms and observation decks, an armory for defending the command deck should the ship be boarded, and, guarded by a pair of marines in dress armor, the hatchway that led down into the captain's suite on the deck below - luxury quarters, private galley, and officer's mess.

And forward? Forward was the bridge itself. A place that on a Cizerack galleon was nearly a temple, an image of the Sun Throne on Carshoulis Prime, just in case anyone needed to be reminded where the captain's authority came from. Circular, and bordered with arches that joined to form a dome overhead that shone with a holoprojection of local stars and nebulae. At the center was a raised dais painted in gold and purple and crimson like the rays of the sun, positioned so the captain had the eyes of all twenty-six bridge officers and could see the whole cavernous length of the command deck.

But the captain was not in her seat. The Officer of the Watch bolted up out of the captain's chair as the procession approached, but Quartermistress Harraull snapped, {{As jyou werrre,}} and led Cyer around the edge of the bridge to the captain's office.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

The captain sat at her desk, once more engrossed in the department reports she was eagerly anticipating handing off to her new XO, when the door chimed, and Lieutenant Commander Harraull's credentials flashed onto her holoscreen. {{Enterrr,}} she growled, and the ebony doors slid open to give her her first glimpse of Commander Cyer.

{{Captajin Ceergorra,}} Harraull intoned with an open-palm salute, {{jI present to jyou--}} There was the slightest catch in her breath as she readjusted her approach. {{[female] Commander Jorrrrun Cjy-errrr, formerljy of the Alljiance star destrojyer Eagle.}}

Mdharra extinguished the holo display on her desk and rose from her seat. She regarded Commander Cyer with her larger, feral eyes, and then turned back to Harraull as if her introduction were nothing terribly remarkable.

"Verjy well, Quartermjistress. Major Arrtaurro. Commander Karresou. jYou are djismjissed. jI wjill speak wjith the K'ohta'rrou."

Harraull bowed her head in deference, and the three command officers filtered out the door. It was then that Mdharra noticed Miri hanging back with Jorrun's duffel still slung over her shoulder. "Mjiss Jitaurree, what are jyou dojing wjith that luggage?"

Miri's mouth hung open for a frantic moment, and then she cinched up the strap and said, "Wjith your leave, rrou'a, jI'll take thjis to the K'ohta'rrou's quarters."

With a fractional nod from Mdharra, the young woman stumbled out, leaving the captain and the commander alone in the room. Head canted, ears slightly forward, she studied him, her painted face as inscrutable as a summer storm.

"Welcome aboarrrrd, Commanderrr Cjyerrrr," she said in Basic. "jYourrr forrrmer captajin has sssspoken verrrrjy hjighljy of jyou."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun stepped forward, his hand extending his orders and dossier to his superior.

"Thank you, ma'am."

He gave a curt nod as she retrieved the dataslip, again returning to attention. Ceergorra was nearly a head shorter than he was, but her poise betrayed nothing. He'd seen that kind of surety of self in Captain Sudaw. It was the manner of a ship's captain to be absolute master of their domain. Therefore, her passed-on compliments from his former Captain were to be taken carefully. This was neither the time for pride nor humility in any excess. She likely had time for neither and abhorred them equally.

"I'm glad to hear so."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

Mdharra took the dataslip in hand and laid it along the edge of her desk. Jorrun's image bloomed to life above the duraglass surface, along with several paragraphs of biography and service records. She did not read them, because she already had, at length.

"jYou certajinljy come with a well rrrrrounded pedjigrree," she observed. "Earrrned a mjidshjipman postjing aboarrrrd the jImperjial Frjigate Havok, then defected to the Alljiance a yearrrr laterrr, wherrreupon jyou went from mannjing jImperjial blockades to rrrrunnjing them. Qujite effectjiveljy, frrrom the looks of jit."

Her expression did not change, but her ears twisted forward by a few degrees, turning more of the tufted exteriors toward Cyer. "Does the jImperjial Navjy requjire an oath of servjice of jits offjicers?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

The Commander could see where her line of questioning was going. His jawline tightened, but he remained otherwise unchanged.

"They do, ma'am."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

"And djid jyou take that oath?" the captain asked.

[Jorrun Cyer]

He gave the faintest of nods.

"I did, ma'am."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

"jI wjill not asssk jyou whjy jyou brrroke jyour fjirsst oath," Mdharra said. "The man who took jit jis not the man sssstandjing beforre me now. But jif jyou arrrre to serrrrve as mjy fjirst offjicer, therrre jis anotherrr oath jyou must swearrrr, one that everjy woman and man underrr mjy command has sworrrn alreadjy under pajin of death and djishonor. And as captajin, jI am dutjy-bound to ask jyou: whjy should jI accept jyour word?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

It was the first time he'd been asked the question in that way.

Coming into the Alliance by way of the Empire, you became familiar with the perjorative greycoat. There was a special kind of burden you carried, knowing that at some point in time you had stood on the other side of the battle lines. Of course, so many of the best fighters of the Alliance had made the same painful decision to evaluate their ethics that Jorrun had done all those years ago. Still, you could see it in some peoples eyes when they asked where you came from. Even still, nobody in the Alliance asked why when the turncoats came. They knew.

When Jorrun answered his captain, there was a modicum of discomfort on his face.

"Because that oath doesn't break cheaply, ma'am. It took Alderaan to do so. I regret that my oath and my honor came into conflict, but I stand by the decision I made."

He exhaled slowly, not wanting to spend any more time on how he felt the day that he deserted his posting.

"And with respect, ma'am, that is precisely why you should accept."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

The captain's ears tilted back again, broader, more open, giving the slightest suggestion of a smile.

"jIt takes a certajin audacjitjy to parrrlajy a weakness jinto a ssstrength," she said. "jI notjiced that Quartermjistress Harraull addrrressed jyou wjith a femjinjine tjitle."

[Jorrun Cyer]

The Commander nodded.

"At my request, ma'am. In my understanding of your culture, authority is an inherently feminine virtue."

He arched an eyebrow slightly as he spoke.

"Correct or not, addressing my true gender could sully the sanctity of the chain of command."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

"Then jI, too, wjill ressspect jyour decjisjion," the captain replied. She stepped over to a dark, wooden table against the back wall, on which sat a cluster of shallow cups and a carafe of something aromatic and steaming. "Krii'aachee tea?"

She poured two cups of the oily liquid and handed one to the commander. "Prejudjice rrruns deep jin our culturrre, even jin the navjy, where jits usefulness jis, shall we sajy, less clearrrr. What do jyou know of Saantaurra's hjissstorry, K'ohta'rrou?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun accepted the steaming cup, and even from arm's distance, the aroma was powerful. Pungent and spicy, with notes of the sea but also something strong that his nose couldn't detect, but that held a powerful effect over his sinuses. It wasn't a pleasant smell, but somehow the power of it encouraged him to breathe deeper. He sipped, mouth taut as his tongue rolled the assaulting flavor over his mouth, which in turn enhanced the tremendous effect it had on his breathing. He could feel his eyes beginning to water, so he swallowed before the effect could overtake him. His mouth free again, he breathed deeply, as if for the first time.

The distraction had almost dislodged him from the question his Captain asked of him. Fortunately he had no need to clear his throat.

"He was keeled three years ago at Royal Cana'darri. I'm told the decision was made mid-construction for him to be retrofitted for the Saanja project."

He tried the tea again, now prepared for the shock and awe it was sure to bring his senses.

"The first contact the Alliance had with him was the Ryloth 219 incident. Fortunately no loss of life, but our ship in system brought back enough data on his hypermatter bombardment system that it caused a lot of turmoil at Naval Command on Dac."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

Mdharra remembered the incident vividly - a misfire that had caused no small consternation in the ranks of the diplomacy corps and had landed her in an official hearing before the admiralty. Thank Saanjara the damage had been contained, and she'd still netted the pirate vessel they'd been pursuing, or her enemies might have seized the opportunity to rid themselves of a Naala'in agitator. All the same, she took some perverse pleasure that the weapon had caused a stir in the Alliance.

"A regrrettable jinjicdent that underscorrres the hjighljy experrrjimental nature of the devjice. The Prrrjide Navjy does not, as a rrrrule, embrrace change. Saanja jis jindeed powerful, but unforrrgjivjing. jIt requjirrres a novel arrajy of tactjicss qujite at odds wjith esssstabljished naval doctrrrjine. There werrrre those among the Admjiraltjy who would have preferrred to sssee jit fail. Jussst as there werrre those who would preferrr to see a Naala'in captajin fail. Thejy compromjisssed, jit appearrrs, bjy concentratjing all thejir dangerousss experrjiments jin one shjip."

She sipped delicately at her tea, betraying no sign of its assault on her nasal passages. "And now, jyou are herrre."

[Jorrun Cyer]

"As another dangerous experiment?"

The K'ohta'rrou took pains to hide his smile behind his teacup. He wasn't privy to the understanding of Mdharra's ethnic heritage, but Cizeri social castes had layers that would make an onion feel ashamed. No doubt an education in the subtleties would be forthcoming.

"I'd like to continue your unbeaten performance, ma'am."

It was an unspoken request for her to lay bare any insight into maintaining the level of perfection that she desired.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

Mdharra parted her lips enough to show the edges of her teeth in what passed among predators for a smile. "jI expect nothjing lesss."

She set her teacup on the edge of her desk and retrieved a datapad from the stack she'd accumulated. "jYour oath wjill be deljiverrred on the fljight deck, before a rrrepresentatjive assembljy of the crrrew. Mjiss Jitaurri wjill educate jyou on the ceremonjial detajils." The captain then crossed toward the commander and handed him the datapad.

"jI am certajin jyou have spent some tjime sstudjyjing the perforrmance and tactjical hjistory of the Korri Battle Galleon. Saantaurra's rrrefjit wjill rrrender much of that knowledge obsssolete. Thjis datapad contajins a comprrehensjive revjiew of hjis new sspecjifjicatjions, jincludjing a full rrrreport on Saanja's combat perforrmance and updated tactjics and prrrocedures. The Admjiraltjy has orrdered furrther fjield testjing of Saantaurra's new capabjiljitjies, and jI jintend for jyou to command a batterjy of ljive fjire exercjises wjithjin the week. A chance to djispel anjy prrrejudjices concernjing jyour abjiljitjy to command."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Learn a thing, unlearn it completely, and then re-learn it differently. Might as well be a navy motto. Still, Jorrun groused slightly at notice that his hours of study into mainline Korri galleons may not be as useful as he'd planned. Instinctively he delved right in as it was handed to him, giving it a terse browse to see where the most immediate forks the the road might be encountered. Still, lingering too long on it in his Captain's presence wasn't the point of his summons, and he reluctantly drew the pad down to his side.

"I'll make sure we're battle-ready, ma'am."

She'd given him a good, hefty workload so far, and as he shifted his grip on the datapad, he was eager to set about to task.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

It pleased Mdharra to see her new K'ohta'rrou champing at the bit as he skimmed the datapad. In fact, it reminded her a great deal of herself when she'd first assumed command of Saantaurra two years ago, restless in the knowledge that the success or failure of her command depended on how well she learned the idiosyncrasies of a wholly unfamiliar and untested weapons system. She knew precisely how anxious Jorrun was to start boning up.

"jI wjill leave jyou to jit, then, K'ohta'rrou. Oh, and, don't hesjitate to put jyour adjutant to worrrk. She can use the exercjissse."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun moved to salute as he was dismissed, correcting muscle memory midway through to an upturned palm.

"Rrou'a."

With that, he made his leave back through Saantaurra's expansive bridge - again putting the officer of the watch at ease as he continued past to the cluster of turboshafts that connected all parts of the galleon. Quarters for the senior officers were located on deck four, and he tapped the glyph to carry him there, arriving in a mere handful of seconds. The door parted, and Jorrun noted that the Cizerack penchant for organization by authority predictably placed the K'ohta'rrou's quarters as the first stop on the corridor. A thumb on the biometric door switch recognized his access, and he entered as the hydraulics whooshed.

It was a sight.

There was certainly no equivalent in the Alliance navy. Even the Mon Calamari ships, resplendent in their furnishings, didn't have the warm, luxurious trappings of a Cizerack galleon. Wood grain desk. Queen-sized bed. An aquarium teeming with every rainbow spectrum of tropical fish he thought possible. There was even a birdcage, with equally bright birds chirping in greeting. He went to work unpacking his duffel, which had been laid out at the foot of his bed. Datapads full of texts from the Imperial Naval Academy that he still found himself reading went on the desk. A holocube of his daughter went on the nightstand next to the bed. A hefty paper-bound book of Cizeri epic poetry...he opened to a dog-eared page to pick up a few stanzas where he'd left off before depositing that onto his bed.

K'ohta'rrou Cyer finally pulled out a garment roll which contained two more uniforms to wear. They would need pressing before they were serviceable, but he would find time for that later. Unrolling them, he stepped to the closet to hang them up, only to find an array of Cizerack uniforms already waiting. They were in his size.

"Well, I guess they've thought of everything."

Jorrun held one up, noting yet again how shabby his own blue and tan uniform compared with the resplendent crimson and gold arrayed with ornate buttons, lace cravat, and epaulet. If it wasn't for the strong lines and the unmistakably military look of the trousers and boots, he would think it was something to wear to a gentleman's ball. Carefully, he began to remove his old uniform, and to dress himself accordingly, one piecemeal accessory at a time. About halfway through, his door chime sounded. Hurrying to make sure he was at a decent mid-stage of dress, he called "Enter" as he began to work the jacket over his shoulders.

[Miri Jitaurree]

"jI hope jI'm not djisssturrbjing jyou, K'ohta'rrou - oh!"

Miri stood there in the doorway, and with her was a tall, slender male with a graying queue of hair and a silver and burgundy waistcoat. Miri paused as if not quite sure what to do with a male superior in a not-quite-complete state of dress, until the male Cizerack coughed discretely into the back of his hand, and she sidestepped into the cabin to let the door slide shut behind both of them.

"Glad to sssee jyou're settljing jin, rrou'a!" the midshipwoman rebounded, and she nodded toward her silent companion. "Thjis jis Loreeto Hirraata, forrrmerljy sssteward of Commanderrr Ajakeeri, jyour prrredecessorr, and yourrrrs, jif jyou'll have hjim. He doesn't ssspeak much Basjic, but he's been an offjicer's man for over forrrtjy jyearss, and should be morrre than capable of ssseejing to all jyour perrrsonal needs."

The man stood like an immobile bayossa tree, immaculately composed of that placid self-assurance that only comes from decades in the service of powerful women. Miri, on the other hand, fidgeted with the datapad in her hand and glanced from the nearly-dressed commander to the closet.

"Do jyou... need anjy asssjistance, rrou'a?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

"No. Thank you, Su'taun'rrou, I think I've got the situation well..."

Loreeto stepped closer, immediately halting Cyer's progress with the jacket with a gentle but insistent motion at the shoulder. Without a word, he opened the second door of the closet to reveal another brilliant array of garb, and pulled one hangar free that held a uniform even more full of pomp than the one the human had been in the process of mastering. The surprise left Jorrun momentarily speechless.

"Ssai na'vuu ne ra tassee, achei, K'ohta'rrou."

The older steward stood at the ready in case the confused human needed assistance in removing the incorrect uniform for the occasion. Jorrun felt a little heat on his ears at the embarassment, looking down at the wasted work he'd already invested in making the cravat seem passable. His defeated hands reached up to untie the lacy adornment.

"Well, I can appreciate the need. A uniform this nice ought to have an instruction manual."

Fortunately, Loreeto didn't dawdle, and his touch was professional and near invisible. No sense in humoring false modesty, Jorrun allowed the steward to attend to matters of undress and redress, standing as stately as he could manage during such attending.

"We're gonna be spending a bit of time together, it seems. Can I call you Miri?"

[Miri Jitaurree]

The midshipwoman politely diverted her attention as the steward deftly did his work, but her ears sharpened at the unexpected question. "Of courrse, rrou'a," she said. "Um... jI can rrrevjiew the prrrotocol for the Oath-Takjing ceremonjy at jyour convenjience. jIs there anjythjing elsse jyou need jin the meantjime? Anjythjing else jyou need deljiverred to jyour quarrters?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

He was initially keen to rebuff Miri's education on the oath, feeling his own reading on the matter was sufficient, but in light of Loreeto's correcting his wardrobe, he wondered if anything else had been missed. As the steward attended to the high collar of his dress shirt, Jorrun stiffened his neck, jutting his jaw up as he continued to speak to his liason.

"Jai'ne taala ja ko'nu trei gurre'tau taun'shei faa, nai kaasa Saantaurra koi'koi bree...nau'e? Nau nesa tua, nau nesa feerra, nau nesa Sor'Rrou'Fai, nau a' Cizer'a."

("I pledge wholly and faithfully to serve my duty with all of my might to Saantaurra, until death or prosperity take me. My oath to my office, my oath to my family, my oath to my queen, and to our great people.")

It was his expected part of the return, at least. Of course, Cizeri attention to detail was becoming microscopic in its care. He awaited to see if he passed muster with the midshipwoman.

[Miri Jitaurree]

There was a definite accent, and his cadence left something to be desired, but there was no denying he'd put a great deal of effort into a language that challenged the nimblest of forrda tongues. Miri nodded in approbation.

"Well done, rrou'a," she said. "And then the captajin prrresents jyou to the crrrew, and thejy pledge theirrr serrrvjice to jyou, whjich jyou accept..." She could see him nodding out of the corner of her eye; he'd studied this as well. "And, of courrrse, bjy then, jyou'll alreadjy have taken the du'arri."

[Jorrun Cyer]

"The du'arri?"

Confusion was evident in Jorrun's voice, made all the more evident as Loreeto pushed a bunching of cravat into a quarter-wilhuuf knot at his throat. While his posting was certainly a paying profession (paying far better than an equivalent Alliance posting), he wasn't exactly sure what significance money changing hands would imply.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri glanced over as the steward expertly applied just the right amount of ruffle to the lace fringe of Jorrun's cravat. "The cerrremonjial du'arri," she said, cautious not to presume too much or too little of his study. "Everjy woman and man jin the Prrjide mjiljitarrrjy takes the du'aari the day thejy sjign up. A soldjier's pajy for her orrr hjis fjirsst dajy of servjice. jIt rrrepresents jyour contrrract wjith the Prrrjide Mother herrself."

She could see plainly enough this wasn't ringing any bells, so she stepped around in front of her commander, careful not to get in Loreeto's way, and dug a glittering silver coin out of her coat pocket.

"The captajin prrresents jit to jyou. Then she assks jyou to pledge jyour lojyaltjy to jyour shjipmates and to the Prjide Mother - the worrrdjing actualljy varjies qujite a bjit, but jyou rrrespond wjith 'Jai'ne taala.' jYou take the cojin, and then jyou kjiss the jimage of the Prrjide Mother."

She raised the coin to her lips, but she didn't make contact. It was not something you did frivolously, even by way of demonstration.

"Then all who have taken the du'arri beforrre shout, 'Soraar, arr'uuhai,' or 'rrou'eshaa.' Thejy'll prrobabljy call jyou 'brrrother" rrrather than 'sssjister,' jif jI had to guess. And then... well, when jI and mjy classmates djid jit, we went out for bloodwjine and got drrrunk out of our sskulls. That prrrobabljy won't happen. But the jimporrtant thjing jis, jyou'll be one of us."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun grinned, seeing that at least some naval traditions transcended culture.

"That last part certainly sounds right. I...vaguely...remember taking the oath out of Imperial Academy. Going to the pub in uniform, pounding the pints, chasing the gir-"

He cut his recollection short, eyes awkwardly averting as Loreeto tended to cufflinks and lace at his sleeves. He suddenly wondered how one could properly celebrate taking the du'arri, knowing the laborious dry-cleaning these marvels of uniforms might require after an evening of the necessary debauchery.

"So is this what you thought it would be like, Miri? Your first posting, I mean?"

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri twitched one tufted ear and tried not to blush at the mental image, but with her complexion that was a losing battle.

"Well... jyou neverr qujite know what to expect as a mjidshjipwoman," she said. "jI onljy found out about thjis assjignment thrrree weeks ago. jI'm majorrjing jin Languages and Aljien Sstudjies, so jI thought jI was gojing jinto communjicatjions. But serrvjing the K'ohta'rrou... jI consjider jit an honorr, ssjir. jI mean - rrou'a."

[Jorrun Cyer]

In short order, Loreeto had swaddled Jorrun up in an impressive array of finery. Making sure the lines were right to the uniform, the steward took a small square of chamois and proceeded to give each gleaming buckle and button a quick buff to bring out its brilliance.

"You can call me sir, Miri. In here, at least. I think I can trust you to use the word as we do."

She hung on his every word in a way that went beyond the letter of her duty. Jorrun had to wonder if there was more to it than simply making sure her jacket of service was full of glowing commendations.

"Alien studies? You'll forgive my saying, but that doesn't seem like the most popular field of study at the Royal Academy. What got you into that field?"

Loreeto finished his work, stepping out of the way and gesturing to the mirror adjacent for the K'ohta'rrou to inspect. Jorrun caught himself staring. Squaring his shoulders up a bit, he cut a far more impressive figure than he ever gave himself credit.

"Thank you, Loreeto."

He could see the male's ears flick and then raise in confusion.

"Da'kerra."

Understanding, the steward gave a curt bow and smiled.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri found herself smiling, too - eesha, but if he didn't cut a dashing figure in full Cizeri dress. It may have appeared a bit foppish and effeminate by human standards, with its lace cuffs and bouffant cravat, but whoever had performed the alterations on the jacket and trousers had done masterful work. By the time Commander Cyer had turned from his reflection in the mirror, the midshipwoman schooled her expression back to dutiful neutrality.

"Aljien culturres have been a ljifelong fasscjinatjion forr me, sjirr," she said. "Everrr sjince the Battle of Yaavjin. Mjy brrrotherrs and jI used to plajy Rrrrebels and Empjire jin the courtjyarrrd back home."

Oh, Saanjaara, had that really been necessary? The last thing she wanted was for him to think she considered the Civil War a matter of childsplay.

"The Academy prrrogrram focuses morre on mjiljitarjy and commerrrcjial studjies, but jI thjink we have a lot to offer each otherrr, culturralljy."

[Jorrun Cyer]

The su'taun'rrou's curiosity and eagerness was limitless. Jorrun walked past the vanity, facing her directly.

"You played Rebels and Empire?"

The K'ohta'rrou moved to cross his arms over his chest, stopping midway through the motion. Impressive as the uniform was, the notion of disturbed lace or crushed cravat gave him pause, and he opted for hands at his hips instead. He didn't let her wither under his reaction long.

"Which side did you choose?"

It was through the looking glass. Seeing himself through her perceptions. The games of children hold a grain of honesty.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Kosa, he was furious. Or at least, she thought he was - it was harder to tell without ears and tail to give emotional cues, as Miri's wilting ears and drooping tail clearly demonstrated. And yet, with the shameful specter of reassignment after half a day of duty pounding through her head, it didn't occur to her to lie about something as trivial as a playground game of make-believe.

"Ah- Rrrebels, usualljy. Onljy mjy mother djidn't thjink we should be prrretendjing to be jinsurgents, so sometjimes we had to be spjies."

And sometimes the tall bayyossa tree in the back garden was the shield generator for the Death Star, and you had to climb to the top to deactivate it, then collect some ripe proton torpedoes from its branches to toss into the exhaust port in the toolshed gutter. Saanjaara above, she hoped he didn't ask how recently she'd played.

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun laughed at the prospect slightly, nodding in understanding.

"I can imagine the concept of rebellion being a taboo with your people. It's the same where I grew up as well. Only when I played that game, it was Republic vs. Confederacy."

The K'ohta'rrou moved to his bed, retrieving the book of Cizeri poetry to return to his desk.

"I admire the Cizerack concept of order. The Alliance has only recently known relative peace. I think the coming years will be crucial to see if keeping the peace comes as easy as fighting a war in the name of it. When the offer came to join the exchange program, I saw the chance to do something more than merely move up the ladder or find the next attractive post. This is beyond a challenge for us, Miri. It's a hope."

[Miri Jitaurree]

Hope. That buoyed Miri's ears again, because it echoed that naked idealism that had captured her imagination as a cub watching the holofeeds. What else could explain a rabble of commoners from a hundred different worlds banding together to oppose an empire - and succeeding? In the Pride, diversity was tolerated only where it could not be reasonably stamped out. In the Alliance, it was something to be embraced - a badge of honor, a source of strength.

"Hope," she repeated, probingly, "that culturrres as djifferent as ourrrss can keep the peace togetherrr? Majybe even learrrrrn frrom each otherrr?"

[Jorrun Cyer]

"We're both sworn to defend our people. That goes beyond guns, bombs, and starships. My previous Captain told me that even more important than knowing your enemy, you should know yourself. I chalked that up to Ithorian mysticism years ago, but I've gotten older. There's wisdom there."

There was plenty to see of himself in Miri. Jorrun saw open eyes, ready to consider the unexpected. As much as the K'ohta'rrou wanted to continue talking to gain her unique insight, his chrono cut him off. He glanced down at the watch, tapping at the crystal.

"Alright, Su'taun'rrou. We'd best not be late to my own swearing in, I suppose."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

72 Hours Later

Saantaurra pierced the dimensional barriers like a leviathan breaching from the deep, his hull bright with the wash of hyperspace, and plunged into a sector that was familiar to his captain and many of his crew. Ahead lay the dull glow of a dying supergiant whose natural satellites had boiled away eons ago, leaving behind only a corona of dust and ice in great rings many billions of kilometers across. But centuries of space travel had added to the debris field - husks of starships, of space stations, of probes and satellites, taken here and decommissioned, or towed away as navigational hazards, or dumped as refuse from the spoils of war. There were tens of thousands of them, enough that from a distance they glistered like the rings of a gas giant.

"Now enterrrjing the Gorrdjian Star Wrrreck."

Mdharra Ceergorra lounged in the captain's chair, her K'ohta'rrou standing at her right hand and squinting into the hellishly illuminated debris field on the forward viewer. "Contact wjith the drrrone vesssels?"

"Establjishjing contact now, rrou'a. Rrreadjing fourrr contactsss. Drrrrojid contrrol sjystems rrrespondjing on all shjipss. Thejy awajit ourrr sjignal to begjin."

This was not to be like Saantaurra's last visit to the Tula System, blasting torpedo after torpedo against dead hulks. That was when the Saanja device was an entirely unproven commodity, and the Admiralty wanted data on its performance aboard a known naval platform. Now it was Saantaurra himself who was to be put to the test. His refit in the Cana'darri yards was extensive, drawing much - to Mdharra's eternal surprise - from her own tactical reports and recommendations. He had dropped more than a Seeva'fei's worth of mass, and increased his maximum power output by nearly sixteen percent. As a result, he was leaner, faster, more agile, more deadly in the sorts of long-range torpedo duels that Saanja forced upon its captains.

Earlier this month, engineers from the Pride Navy had located four Action-IV transports among the Wreck that were still largely intact and installed droid control systems in each one. Each ship would masquerade as a different warship, mimicking its flight patterns and performance characteristics, and simulating its weapons payload. Saantaurra would duel with each foe in the teeth of the debris field, where an ordinary Korri galleon would be swamped, and prove his ability to hunt down far nimbler prey without relying on a Seeva'fei picket.

Mdharra was confident in the capabilities of her ship and crew. She was more interested in testing the capabilities of her first lieutenant. She sipped primly at her cup of krii'aachee tea.

"K'ohta'rrou Cjyerrr. jYou have the conn."

[Jorrun Cyer]

Captain Sudaw had been right all along. Jorrun couldn't take his eyes off the chair. Ships change, bridges change. Hell, there isn't even a proper chair on Star Destroyers, but there is still the one nexus you occupy on a ship when you command it. Where every input passes through you, and every order emanates. If you didn't feel the adrenaline, you were a fool.

"Understood, rrou'a."

The Captain relinquished her seat with a guarded expression on her face, and one that suggested he occupied it at her pleasure. Slowly, the K'ohta'rrou took his place, bringing up a small holographic display at his arm rest of the telemetry they received from the Gordian Star Wreck.

"Status."

The checkdown ritual on Saantaurra's bridge began, with reports coming in from all duty stations in appropriate order.

"Ssubljight drrjive fulljy operratjional, rrou'a."

"Hjyperrljight at jyourr command, rrou'a."

"Turrbolasserr batterrjiess and warrheadss rreporrt loaded, rrou'a. Trractorr beam emjitterrss alsso sstandjing bjy."

"All attack wjingss at combat rreadjiness, rrou'a."

"Sshjield generratorrss sstandjing bjy, rrou'a."

Jorrun steepled his fingers in his lap slightly, waiting for one status in particular. A brunette-haired woman in the crew deck looked up at him, nodding.

"Rreactorr jintegrrjitjy at full. Saanja weapon at jyourr command, rrou'a."

Only now did Cyer place both hands at the armrests, and glance to his Captain. He nodded. They were ready.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

As Cyer collected his status reports, Mdharra paced slowly to the engineering consoles where three crewwomen monitored Saantaurra's engine performance and power flow. Between that and the tactical display on the forward viewer, she had all the input she needed to evaluate both the K'ohta'rrou's performance, and Saantaurra's.

She returned his nod and pressed her thumb to the surface of the datapad resting in her hand. The command leapt from the pad to the comm. tower, signalling the first drone ship to begin its attack.

The tactical officer spotted the IFF contact immediately. "Sensorrrrs rrread one jImperjial Carrrrack-class crrrujiserr, bearrjing thrree-one-njinerrr marrk sssjix-two, rrrrange two mjilljion kjilometerrrs. Weapons charrrged, deflectorrrs actjive. Acceleratjing at fourr hundrrred grrravjitjies."

Carrack-class - a 350-meter light cruiser that packed ten heavy turbolasers and twenty ion cannons, a terrifying armament for a ship of its size. With a sublight speed that rivaled the Alliance X-wing, it could harry larger foes at a distance until heavier backup arrived, or pounce on a convoy and quickly scuttle many times its weight in cargo carriers and support craft. An ordinary Korri would be content to passively ward it away from targets of opportunity, as a shepherd watches wolves prowling in the darkness. But Saantaurra was no shepherd.

[Jorrun Cyer]

The coordinates barked out slotted the Carrack as slipping through the floatsam to come in from behind. Entirely possible for a ship of that kind of agility.

"Helm, bring to one-one-five mark three-one-zero. Clear that ore hauler."

The K'ohta'rrou marked the intended obstacle on his HUD. It would ensure the Carrack didn't approach with a direct attack vector, and allow him to balance the terms.

"Wing Commander, prepare Tai'thaa wings Fai and Fei and Keerta wing Fai. Launch in thirty seconds."

From the crew pit, the Wing Commander moved icons for engaged fightercraft across her board with a careful sliding of fingertips.

"Orrderrss forr deplojyment, rrou'a?"

"Double them back against our trajectory and prepare for an assault run. Inform Wing Fei to gather targeting telemetry."

Cyer's head was already on the swivel to his next subordinate.

"Bombardment."

The crewer assigned to deliver Saanja projectiles worked alongside her commander's line of thought.

"Sstandjing bjy forr fjirrjing ssolutjion."

A few seconds later, and Saantaurra slipped past the massive hulk of a burned-out ore hauler. Seconds more, and the fighters began to scream from her bays. Cyer examined the battlespace, contemplating his next move.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

As Saantaurra screened himself behind the ore hauler, the Carrack continued its wide, lazy approach, likely confident that it could outcircle the big, lazy galleon. Mdharra frowned. It was no good programming the droid brains with existing data on Galleon tactics - any foe with half a tactical brain would recognize the difference in tonnage and power output even if he hadn't encountered Saantaurra before. And Mdharra didn't plan on keeping his capabilities a secret.

The Carrack completed its loop to find empty space where it had expected a galleon to be, and its sensors quested for them in the debris field. Meanwhile, Tai'thaa wing Fei spread out like satellites, giving Saantaurra an unobstructed view of the battlefield.

"Tai'thaa Fai and Keerta Fai jin attack posssjitjion, rrou'a,"the crewer at the Wing Commander's console reported.

[Jorrun Cyer]

Jorrun nodded.

"Begin the attack. Concentrate your fire on the Carrack's engines."

The K'ohta'rrou sat on the edge of his chair, leaning forward again to his crew pit.

"Prepare a projectile for envelopment density."

"jYess, rrou'a."

Tai'thaa wing Fei was already providing multiple sources of telemetry, giving Cyer a much better view of the battlespace than his foe. While their defenses were engaged with the fighter threat that now occupied Saantaurra's last known vector, Jorrun's attention focused more on the hulk of the ore hauler they were passing.

"Helm, course correction. Zero-two-nine mark three-five-one. Gunner, I want a tractor beam lock on the hulk to our port side."

The helmswoman, confused, chimed in.

"Wjith rresspect, rrou'a, a trractorr beam engaged on a masss that larrge wjill causse jyourr courrsse to devjiate."

With a gambler's smirk, Jorrun leaned back in his chair.

"I'm counting on it. Engage course correction, and stand by for my signal on those beams. Prepare to divert power from sublight drive to augment inertial dampening."

It was an old dirty trick the Alliance used to great effect to lose Imperial entanglements near asteroids. Tractor beams, in a pinch, could give tremendous aid to a ship's maneuverability. They'd dig their claws in, and somersault over the ore hauler's bones to get at their enemy.

"Status on fighter assault?"

The Wing Commander continued to monitor status.

"Attack rrun completed. Two cassualtjiess. Enemjy defensse sscrreen at sseventjy perrcent rrearr quarrterr."

Jorrun was already drumming up coordinates on his personal station, dispatching them to the wing commander's terminal.

"Set rally point and wait for my signal to engage a second pass."

The Tai'thaa and Keerta squadrons engaging the Carrack peeled off, ostensibly looping around to form up again for a second attack.

"Do we have a lock for Saanja?"

The bombardment officer adjusted the last telemetry from Tai'thaa wing fei, standing straight to face her K'ohta'rrou.

"Tarrget locked."

Jorrun gestured ahead with two fingers.

"Fire."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

Mdharra grasped a safety rail projecting from the engineering console and braced herself as Saantaurra pivoted sharply around the bulk of the old ore hauler. Other crewwomen found themselves gripping their chairs, or the edges of their workstations while the inertial dampers lagged slightly behind the galleon's angular acceleration - such a maneuver should have been impossible for a Korri-class galleon, and were it not for Saantaurra's recent crash diet he likely would not have accomplished it so elegantly. It took a great deal of tactical audacity to take one's principal disadvantage in a given engagement - in this case, agility - and through sleight of hand turn it into an advantage. Likely the engineering crews would complain about the unnatural dynamic loading of the tractor beam housings. Mdharra would put them to the task of shoring them up.

Harried by twin wings of Tai'thaa interceptors and Keerta fighter-grapplers, the Carrack-class cruiser spat back gouts of turbolaser fire like a garu-bear swatting at bothersome wasps. When the Saantaurra swung unexpectedly back into view, the cruiser changed course in an attempt to put the ore hauler back between it and its foe, but by then it was too late. A sound like tons of lava cooling in an ocean filled the bridge, and a brilliant green sun sped from the galleon's centerspine toward the fleeing Carrack. The cruiser stopped firing on the fighters and concentrated all its weapons on the torpedo for the last few moments before impact.

"Djirrrect hjit," the bombardment officer reported. "Enemy fjirrre rrreduced torrrpedo to seventjy perrrcent strrrength. Hjis deflectorrrs arrre down, mjinjimal hull damage."

[Jorrun Cyer]

"Signal to Keerta Fai squadron. Prepare for boarding assault. Concentrate landings at the forward hull, and direct Tai'thaa squadrons to cover their approach."

The Cizerack fighters that had been ostensibly forming up for a second standard assault now pounced. Under the cover of the more nimble superiority starfighters, the heavier Keerta fightergrapplers pushed ahead to close the distance, angling at a vector to minimize the chance that the cruiser would simply push their sublights and make the pouncing more difficult. One by one, the assault fighters tethered themselves via tractor beam and closed the distance, the last few meters secured fast by magnetic landing claws. From the belly of each craft, a specialized chute deployed, the leading edge of each assault ramp tearing through hull plating with a superheated carbide rasp. While one unlucky Keerta was plucked out of space by a defense cannon when it was approaching at its slowest, the balance of the assault squadron successfully deployed, each disgorging a trio of heavily-armed Jaani'sarri marines. Landing so close to the bridge, the havoc created by the assault was considerable.

A few thousand kilometers away, Jorrun watched the fight play out. His wing commander now worked with Major Arrtaurro to coordinate the boarding action. Jorrun pretended not to notice the look of prideful satisfaction on the Major's face as she took in the results of the simulated boarding action.

"K'ohta'rrou, we have taken the enemjy brrjidge. Ssjix marrjiness kjilled, one jinjurred."

It was like witnessing a haymaker in a boxing match that knocked someone senseless. While one might be awed by the surprise and power of the strike, only a fighter who severely underestimated their opponent would stand back and wait for the other man to fall. Jorrun wasn't waiting. He stood from his chair, pacing around the dais until he caught Mdharra's eyes, and merely contented himself to stand in one place.

"Launch an assault barge. Call back Fei squadron to escort, and bring us clear of the ore hauler. Close the distance, and target the Carrack's engines. If they bolt again, cripple her."