The airlock cycled and the other door opened.

"Welcome aboard the TSF Konnichiwa, Captain Sanders," the large man with the scarred face – Commodore Mebalti - said. He was in the corridor right outside the starboard airlock in the company of a woman in her sixties, and an overweight fellow with a bald spot. "These are my first officer Nana Alter and my chief engineer Simler Dirdle."

Kaarin attempted a measure of external composition. "Retired Senior Scout Kaarin Sanders," he introduced himself, skipping pleasantries.

"The kingdom of Tyr owes you a great debt, Captain," Mebalti continued, unabashed. "If not for your timely intervention on our behalf, there would not have been a Tyrian navy for much longer."

"It would have been hard to remain neutral when your birthworld is being attacked," said Kaarin flatly.

This appeared to surprise his welcoming committee.

"I left Tyr when I was eighteen. Enlisted on a freighter bound for Tobia," he explained simply.

"In that case, let's not just stand here, I have a bottle of wine or three prepared in my quarters, for a little private celebration of our victory!"

Kaarin was about to refuse, but in the end, getting drunk is what he wanted in the circumstances. He let Mebalti lead the way and jabber on.

ooo

"That's the sixth glass, Captain!" remarked the chief engineer, himself sipping on a cup, an hour later. "Didn't take you for a hard-drinking man."

"Ugh," half-groaned and half-sighed Kaarin, putting the wine down. He didn't feel any better, but at least his thoughts were scattered.

"Alright, Captain, slow down with the swilling and tell us why you're so damn sad," Mebalti shook a stick of jerky at the scout. "This is a time for joy. The enemy is defeated, we are alive!"

"But my best buddy of seven years is dead," Kaarin said.

A pregnant pause filled the air.

"And?" the first officer raised a wrinkled brow.

"What d'you mean, 'and'?" Kaarin blinked at her.

"You know how many people died in this fight?" she asked. "Seven. Ten more are injured."

"Anyone you cared about, then?" he glared at her.

"No, but that's not the point!"

"You're alive. He's dead. We're alive, even if our comrades are dead," agreed Mebalti. "She should know," he indicated the old woman. "She's lost a son and two grandchildren in the rebellion twenty years ago."

"Please don't drag my personal history into this, Commodore," she frowned at him.

"Have it your way, Nana," he said to her and turned back to Captain Sanders. "Do you have any family left on Tyr?"

"My father died when I was thirty. I think I might have some cousins if my aunt and uncle had any kids. Never checked. Wasn't in these parts very often."

"But you still wanted to retire here?"

"I-" began Kaarin but a buzzer interrupted him.

"Enter!" bellowed Mebalti.

"Commodore! It's his highness! He wants to talk to you and your guest!" announced the comms officer.

"Let's not keep the King waiting, then. We'll take the call on the bridge."

ooo

"Your Highness," said Mebalti at the projection of the King of Tyr. Kaarin Sanders stood by his side, now regretting drinking so much. Fortunately, being in the virtual presence of royalty had a sobering effect.

"Commodore. Captain Sanders, I presume?"

"Yes... sire," said Kaarin, remembering basic etiquette.

The King was somewhat younger than him, wearing an opulent formal robe. The lines of his face suggested a lifetime of being overly serious in all things.

"Congratulations are, I think, in order," he said. "First to you, Commodore,for your spirited defense of the realm. Secondly, to Captain Sanders, for his freely given, supererogatory assistance in it."

Both said the obligatory "thank you"s, Mebalti proudly, Kaarin mutteringly.

"But that is not why I am calling you two today. This is a formal summons to my summer court in Liberation, at your leisure." Both recipients understood that last part as "as soon as possible, preferably sooner". "We need to discuss matters of some import, to which radio communication does not lend itself. Coordinate with my castellan for your arrival. Sovereign, out."

The transmission ended.

"Well, Captain, I guess you're moving up in the world. I'll get us a shuttle."

ooo

Liberation was one of Tyr's larger cities – which wasn't saying very much. It boasted fifty thousand inhabitants, making it one-sixteenth of the planet's population. Tyr wasn't very populous in a large part because of it being chiefly a cold desert. For those raised on substantially less welcoming worlds – such as those without an atmosphere that could support terrestrial life – this place would be paradise, provided most of its food could be imported from someplace. At one point, centuries ago, Tyr was home to millions and the capital of a tiny interstellar empire, but when it fell – as all empires do – it turned out that the poor soils of the world could not cope to support a population that large, especially not after a devastating civil war had sapped their manpower. Since then, the strength of the Tyrians has recovered, but it was still shy of a million, scattered around the oases and the minimally warm equatorial region.

Kaarin himself was never this far north – he grew up in the urban zone nicknamed 'Spacetown', around the planet's solitary starport, and wasn't exactly interested much in the exploration of the frozen, dry dirtball that was his home. In the intervening years, he had come to miss this place, which was one of the reasons why he came back.

The royal summer palace was a feat of antigravity engineering, and Kaarin got to see a lot more than the average citizen from the shuttle as they were kindly permitted to enter restricted airspace, and not shot down by the surface-to-air missile sites located in strategic locations. Built into a large meteorite crater, the six towers of the hexagonal construction could easily have had a hundred and fifty meters. The whole center of the depression was covered by a white dome, with a landing pad on its peak. All around it, stretched Liberation's eclectic, unplanned collection of housing and industry. Further out, frost-resistant crops painted the landscape with greens and yellows.

Luckily for Kaarin, his dress uniform had survived the battle, and he didn't look out of place next to Commodore Mebalti as they were greeted by a valet after landing, and escorted under light guard to one of the King's personal conference rooms.

He wore a uniform in a similar style as the commodor, but with obviously more medals, badges and frills. Overall, the King looked less opulent, but just as regal as two hours before in the summons, and doubly serious. Besides him, there was a woman in the room, wearing a conservative dress. She was approximately the King's age, and overall gave the impression of a similar character as the sovereign.

"Gentlemen," the King acknowledged them with a nod. "Thank you for coming. Sit down. My wife, Katrine, shall expound."

They sat, and the Queen operated the holographic display, which projected a two-dimensional representation of a starmap, centered and zoomed on the Tyrian system, with its immediate neighbours – Sagan, Tktk, Hecarda, Lacidaeus, Caldos, Ace and Acis.

"Although we are victorious, we can ill afford this kind of victory," she begun. "According to the commodore's report, which I have no doubt is accurate, the Maccabeus is beyond salvaging, and the Konnichiwa will be in repairs for the better part of a month. That leaves only one TSDF ship capable of combat immediately. We have, of course, ground-based and orbital defenses, but those are static – we cannot do anything to a foe who stays beyond our range and sends large rocks our way, for instance."

She made sure the two were on the same page before continuing.

"Computer storage recovered from the wreckage of the enemy flagship confirms our fears – these are not pirates, or even opportunistic independent adventurers, but rather part of a larger organization."

This was news to Kaarin – he neglected to break into the royal lady's monologue, however.

"Apparently, there is a force of warships operating in the Trojan badlands, under the command of a 'High Admiral Peter the First'. This is a holopicture of him we've managed to recover," she said, and pressed a virtual button, which changed the display to the bust of a handsome middle-aged man, with a certain smug air of supreme confidence about him, hawkish Solomani features, and eyes that showed telltales of cybernetic augmentation. "We have precious little information about him, and all of it comes from the databanks of the destroyed ship. What we do know is that he's apparently out to carve himself an empire in our region of space. Our psych team, based on the recovered communication logs, have constructed a preliminary profile of his personality – high likelihood of amorality and pathological ambition, low empathy."

"So he's a conqueror," ventured Kaarin.

"Very likely, Captain Sanders," nodded the Queen.

"And he's coming here."

"That is also likely."

"What's so special about him?"

"That is the crux of the issue," the King spoke up. "Aside from having more synthetic flesh than organic, if the documents are to be believed, he's collected a whole gallery of Ancient artifacts, which he applies to great effect on his flagship, the Pagaton."

"Pagaton... isn't that a planet? Somewhere in the Spinward Marches," Kaarin mentioned, having had much of humanity's tiny section of the galaxy memorized over the decades of service in the Scouts.

"That is correct, Captain Sanders," said the Queen. "We're investigating any possible connection between the name and the ship."

"The salient point is," said the King, "that he's somewhere in the area and he's already sent a vanguard to try to secure Tyr. Given the escape of the other ship involved in the attack, we must assume he will be notified sooner or later about the Vargr's failure to capture our system. According to our psych techs, he will probably come personally."

"In which case the chances of our continued survival are rather trivial."

"Isn't that a little pessimistic, Your Highness?" the Commodore spoke up. "We are repairing the Konnichiwa, and can begin immediately on the construction of additional warships. We have the facilities, and we have enough traders passing through to import a boat or five, if need be."

"This is unlikely to substantially help," replied the King. "We don't have the specifications for the warlord's Ancients-equipped flagship, but we do know it is in the 2000 displacement ton range."

The Commodore made a face.

Kaarin let out a low whistle. "That's almost a capital ship."

"Indeed. Short of fielding a vessel of similar displacement, there is little chance of achieving victory."

"But your highness has a plan."

The King looked at his wife. She zoomed out the projection. Now the map showed a large section of the Trojan Reach.

"We are bordered by the Aslan Hierate and one secessive state of theirs, the so-called Glorious Empire, the Florian League and the Third Imperium. These are the only the major polities relevant to our interests here – the ones who can provide enough back-up to stand against the invasion when it comes," she expounded.

"Commodore, Captain. In your opinion, which of these is most likely to actually help us?" the King asked.

"I don't think the Aslan have a dog in this fight," said Mebalti. "The Florians might help, but they're defensively minded, and detaching enough of their relatively small navy here would make them vulnerable. I don't think they'll help. The Imperium, yes, they might. They've always claimed this region as their sphere of influence," he looked quizzically at Kaarin. "But they're too far away to get to us in time. It would take months to reach the edge of their space, and as much to get back, and that's without time spent on negotiations."

"There's a research base nearby. In Dostoevsky," the Scout pointed. "I believe they've got a picket there, but I don't know their strength."

"Does that not count as giving away military secrets to foreign powers, Captain?" the King arched an eyebrow.

Kaarin shrugged. "I haven't given away anything secret. And I'm Tyrian, and wanted to retire from service here."

"Wanted?"

"Well, my services are obviously still required. I've got the only jumpworthy ship in this system right now, and you need help, sire."

"Well deduced, Captain."

"Is there anyone but the Imperium who can help?"

"We're just about the most advanced and militarily powerful realm within six parsecs," said the Commodore a bit proudly. "Acis has a space navy, even if it's a little bit less advanced than ours. Number One is too broken up politically to field one. Caldos is comparatively unified, with only three major factions, and they do have starships – but they're backwards, bought from third parties, and the yokels can't maintain them without help. That leaves Dostoevsky, which is an Imperial client state. They have their own force in addition to the Imperial naval garrison stationed there."

"My ship is rated for jump two," Kaarin revealed. "If I went by the rimward route, I could stop by Caldos and investigate chances of them helping us there, on my way to Dostoevsky."

"That is a decent plan," agreed the King.

"Not that I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, but is that ship actually yours?" asked the Commodore.

Kaarin grimaced. "No, not really. I have it on loan from the IISS, and it can be recalled to active service at any time," he admitted. "I still have use of it for the time being, and I believe using it to help you is in direct interest of the Imperium." He wasn't all that sure of that last one, but that was what he was betting on.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Captain," said the sovereign. "It is decided. You will make way first to Caldos, then to Dostoevsky, with the intention of securing their military assistance in the anticipated conflict against this warlord."

"What do I offer them in return?" Kaarin asked.

"We shall delegate an envoy to go with you. He will take responsibility for negotiations."

"Oh, good. Thank you, your majesty." Kaarin did not feel very confident in being able to play the high stakes court games required of aristocrats and diplomats. "My ship needs some minor repairs, I assume I can count on that?"

"You may."

"Also, I would very much appreciate a starship engineer. Scoutships are designed to be flyable solo, but it's not a pleasant experience."

"The engineer from the Maccabeus survived the battle. I'll arrange the transfer," said the Commodore.

"Anything else you need, Captain?" asked the King.

"Uh, yes, actually. Could I get an emergency low berth installed? Just in case someone dies on my ship again and they can be frozen for reanimation later."

"Granted."

ooo

"Remember, that you are dust, and dust you shall become," said the priest officiating the ceremony, and the four men lowered the coffin into the hole.

It was cold outside – as were most days on Tyr – and Kaarin felt a particular tightness of breath, due long absence from its thin atmosphere. The overall mood of the ceremony could only be made sadder by drizzling rain, but it hardly ever rained on the planet. The four began shoveling the sandy soil into the grave. The attendees – some spacers who felt obligated to attend Mandy's burial, to give last respects to an erstwhile comrade in arms – began to disperse.

"Captain Sanders?" said someone behind him. Upon turning towards the voice, he saw an older man with a long, shaggy beard, in a black suit. Kaarin noticed some resemblance between his dress and the priest's. "Pleased to meet you. I am father Yosef. My condolences."

"Thank you," Kaarin said stiffly. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Why, I wouldn't mind a ride to Caldos and Dostoevsky, sometime within the next couple of days," said he.

"Are you the engineer or the diplomat?"

Yosef snorted. "The 'diplomat', of course. I serve as the court chaplain to his majesty, the King. And I appear to have been delegated to go along with you on this ride."

"You're a priest."

"Yes. I am. What of it?" the man cocked his head at Kaarin.

"It's not common to see a priest serving in the government," Kaarin replied, a bit lamely. "You're of the Solomani faith, right?"

Yosef winced. "That is a horribly, horribly misleading way to put it, young man! If only it were true!" he raised his arms to the sky. "The people of Earth are hardly united in the True Faith, and have lamentably never truly been. Concisely, however, you have it right that our Faith originates on Earth, which God had blessed as the homeworld of Humaniti. The Universal Assembly, which I humbly serve, is among the most ancient of human religions, stretching back into the darkness of prehistory. Our Holy Book," he reached into his suit, drawing an black hardcopy tome in small format, "remembers the invention of writing! As the Terrans spread the light of God during the days of the Second Imperium, so shall we not rest until all are one in our Lord and Saviour."

"Right," said Kaarin, after a little pause. "I guess you're well-matched to your profession. I mean, you obviously like to talk."

The priest laughed. "We're going to get along just fine."

ooo

"Hey, watch where you're welding that!" Kaarin rebuked the technician. "An inch more and I won't be able to open the toilet. And that would be terrible."

"Sorry, sir."

It was nice to be in space once again. Though his mind was still made up about settling down on Tyr, it was going to be quite a step to acclimatize to planetary conditions. On a starship, the gravity was standard, the pressure was standard and the temperature was standard. Hell, the moisture was standard too, and there was no weather to speak of, except perhaps on the truly gigantic capital ships, sometimes. Groundside, he had to contend with a certain lack of... stability.

There was a chime from the airlock, disturbing him from his ruminations. Someone was at the door.

It turned out to be a Tyrian navywoman, in her twenties, thin as a stick even in the pressurized uniform, with a face that bore the conspicuous lack of marks indicative of never smiling.

"Petty Officer, 3rd class, Sai Marte, reporting for duty!" she said, saluting in the Tyrian manner. "I am to assume the position of engineer on this ship, sir! Are you Captain Kaarin Sanders?"

Kaarin raised both eyebrows. Women in engineering were just about as rare as hens' teeth – whatever a 'hen' was. "At ease. Yes, I am him. Didn't you get a briefing on me?"

"Sir, I did, but I am not good at facial recognition, sir."

"Drop the excess 'sirs'. This isn't really a military vessel, and I'm not a marine sergeant."

She seemed uncertain what to do with that directive.

"Ah, hell, just come in. The staterooms are on the right, and engineering is down the hallway. Pick a room that isn't mine or being picked apart by the repair crews, and get settled in."

"Yes, sir!"

Kaarin sighed and let her through. First the holy man, now this eccentric bint. He'd have to see about getting out of the system as soon as possible before they saddled him with an entire panopticum of their strangest personnel.

ooo

"'Imminent Misjump', you are clear for departure. Releasing docking clamps," said the voice in the comm.

"Roger that, 'Imminent Misjump' away," replied Kaarin. "Captain Sanders out."

"Who named this ship?" asked Yosef, in a manner that suggest that he didn't really expect a good answer.

Kaarin pulled the ship out of its berth at the highport and set a course opposite the angle vector of the planet, heading for the hundred diameter limit. "I don't know, but you know that thing where if you say, 'what's the worst thing that could happen?' you're tempting fate to demonstrate that your imagination is deficient about the terrible things that can, in fact, happen?"

"Yes, I believe that's one of the universal superstitions. The Solomani and Vilani both acquired it independently, and I would wager that the Zhodani might have an equivalent as well."

"I think this is like the reverse. You're tempting fate by daring it to, basically, kill you. And since fate is there to frustrate your expectations, you never actually die in a misjump." Kaarin put the ship on auto-pilot once they left the proximity of spaceborn chunks of metal in orbit.

"Truly the logic worth of a pagan," Yosef nodded mock-solemnly.

"The jump drive is ready for jump, Captain," came Sai's voice over the internal comm. "Shall I plot a course for Caldos, sir?"

"Do that. You have a couple of hours before we reach the limit."

Yosef clasped his hands.

"Our holy Guardian Angel, ask our Lord for a blessing for the journey that we embark on, so that while en-route we might enjoy good health of soul and body and that we happily return home, finding our families in good health. Guard us, lead and protect. Amen," he said fully seriously.

"We are going to have so much fun over the next week, I can tell," muttered Kaarin.