Imperial Rest, or Royal Slack? [Trium, NDA, Vast residents]

[Sakkra]

Sslaa V is humid. And by humid I mean that, unless you're prepared for it, water droplets start to form on your skin almost immediately. After about an hour, you start to feel sticky and wet And the gravity is a bit on the heavy side, so that doesn't help; 1.25 Gs. So a standard humaniform would feel bogged down, irritable and uncomfortable.

But Emperor Kraah could give two shakes of his tail own about that! "Hraa what a morning! Look at that sunrise! Glorious!" This kind of atmosphere is premium for a Sakkran. A massive mug of Paroo in his clawed hand, he went over the morning reports while wearing a velvet smoking jacket. "Trade looks good .... order is being maintained well enough .... Oh for the love of the Pantheon with these activists!" One of the bylines read off about an anti-interstellar group calling for an end to just leaving debris in space from the many skirmishes with local tin-pot sabre-rattlers. I've got reclamation crews out there, salvage teams by the score. And the fleet chews up the rest as it needs. They'll never be satisfied.

The monitor is turned off and Kraah stalks over to the window to look at the sunrise some more. I hope our star sends a solar flare right up their mother's cooch. That would certainly shut 'em up for a while. Over the distance, the fog in the air creeps around the mid-levels of the tall spire-like trees that serve to house the Sakkrans and their many immigrants. It dissipates as the Sakkran star climbs slowly higher in the sky.

Even from his location high up among one of the statelier spires, Kraah could hear the sounds of repair and maintenance crews going to work. A long, low horn sounds to alert the reptilian denizens of basking time. "Hup, here we go. Bother with all this!" He removes the jacket and places a leather tunic and waist wrap around himself, then ascends the stairs to the top level of his palace, such as it is.

Reaching the top and looking out overt he horizon, the Emperor sees the first morning flights of crafts leaving the spaceport and heading to Vubz. Mostly business commuters peppered in with pleasure travelers, it's the look of a healthy economy at work as far as he's concerned. Sakes alive it's been quiet these days. No Antaran threat to speak of, the Trilarians have gone dormant. Again. Nothing of incredible note going on with the Dominion colony. We've tied up this system pretty good i think.

After his bask, Kraah descends back into his quarters. During his absence, one of his aides scuttled in and deposited a load of paperwork on his desk. He looked at it ascance with one eye, then the other. A solid year of nothing but papers to shuffle about. That tears it. He poked his claw at the comm system that links him to the offending aide. KREESH! Get your thrice cursed scaly hide UP and IN HERE!" Shortly after, a light tapping sounds at the door. "Your majesty?"

Kraah puffed himself up as full as he could, nearly unraveling his waist wrap in the process. A quick Napoleanic move serves to save the royal groin from public view, though. "Kreesh. as of this moment I am on leave. Imperial rest is needed to avert ennui and depression, donchaknow!" The aide seems to blanche at this a bit, then regains his voice. "But your majesty ..."

Kraah seemingly pirouettes on one heel. "But nothing, damn your bespectacled eyes! I'll go crazier than a sack of outhouse rats if I don't get a rest! Send that stack to whatever paper-shuffling department we have and make sure PERSONALLY that they don't balls it up!" The Emperor then goes over to his closet and grunts disapproval. "And tell whoever it is that's supposed to make me look good to get my great-coat ready, and polish up my head-dress. I can't run around looking like I just passed out drunk in some sewer!" The aide bows and scrapes his retreat out the door with years of bow-and-scrape experience being shown.

Kraah keeps his eye on the door after it closes for a solid minute, half expecting it to swing open again with some new business of ridiculous import. Satisfied it doesn't happen, he heads over to his newsfeed station. Now where to go, where to go .... Devras is always nice to me. Titan is fun, although stuff gets weird out there real fast. I suppose I should also visit our Terran holdings, but that can wait for a diplomatic visit, such as the Jugg matches .... hmmmm, hell with it.

(ooc) So basically Emperor Kraah is looking to get away for a bit. But who will host this Sakkran of herculean and epicurean appetites?

[Treznor]

Father and son are hip deep in electronic paperwork, although the son is doing most of the actual work while the father looks on sternly. In truth the sternness is an act, for the son is demonstrating remarkable aptitude. He's almost ready to take over for good.

No, tell the truth. He is ready, as ready as he'll ever be. You're just not ready to retire yet.

The father is a short, indefinably ugly man. His features aren't coarse or malformed, there's just something about the way he carries himself that turns people off. His son has similar features, but he carries them with significantly more grace. Some of the finest schools in the solar system saw to every aspect of his education, from math to literature to social graces. The kind of education only a lot of money and influence can buy.

The son frowns. "Papa? Why is this intelligence report from Sslaa flagged for imperial notice?"

The father leans over to glance at the screen. "Well, I'll be. Kraah's getting restless. That guarantees some fun, excitement and very expensive bills to repair infrastructure."

"So, why is it flagged for you?"

"Because he's fun, exciting and ends up breaking a lot of things. Toys, cars, buildings and the occasional moon."

"Papa, do you really think it appropriate to go gallivanting off like that? We're supposed to be planning the coronation."

The father grins, a familiar sight that normally sends his staff scuttling for cover. "Yes. Yes I do. Let's see you handle things without me breathing down your neck for a while. I won't be far away."

The older man sits down at his own terminal and begins typing out an invitation. It had been a while since they'd gone on safari, and he knows just the world for it: the Treznor colony world named Jewel.

[Sakkra]

Kraah looked over his kit-bag with a discerning eye. All relevant symbiotids and their appropriate nutrient baths are in place, change of tunics and wraps, skin oils and applicators etc etc. It all looks in order. He hiked up his bag and placed his head-dress on his head, fastening it down onto his earholes with tiny cushioned clamps. It was a scaled, platinum number layered with cellulo-chitin plating underneath.

A bwip sounded from his comm station. "Talk to me." Kraah admired himself in a floor-to-ceiling sheet of polished silver that served as his mirror while a voice, that of his personal attendant, sounded out. "Ah, yes. It seems that an invitation has arrived from the Empire of Treznor. Word has gotten out that you're taking a break, it seems." Kraah stopped admiring himself for a moment and looked over at the comm station with one eye. "Really now? What's it about? Gaw, I hope it's not some stuffy waltzing futz party again. I'm up to my elbows with those. And I'm not in the market for fixing up my eldest with some three eyed Princess from some podunk empire out in the middle of nothing."

The attendant took a moment to compose himself. Why do I have to work for the craziest crank in the system? "Ah, no, your majesty. Looks like some sort of safari or something." At the mention of a safari, Kraah got a mental picture of a round from a Chunk Projector rending some manner of prey into small, unidentifiable bits on impact. No no, that won't do. "Well then, what's the itinerary look like?"

There was a bit of stuttering on the other end of the line before it continued with "Well, actually, we're not entirely sure. Should I request details so we can mock up a schedule?" Kraah sighed audibly. "Yes, if it's no bother. I need to know where the bow of the ship is to be pointing at after all. Speaking of which, prep my cruiser for departure, and inform the Captain Sshraa of departure windows and blah blah blah."

"At once, your majesty." The comm line went dead while his attendants and aides went about their tasks, and Kraah decided to bring a lengthy swath of heavy leather to serve as a blanket. this he rolled up and strapped onto his kit.

[Treznor]

Devon Treznor is going over his weapon selection when his terminal beeps for attention. He frowns at the young attendant going over the list with him. "A hold-out pistol? Really?"

The young woman flushes under her sovereign's gaze, but bravely stands her ground. "Your safety is my primary concern, Majesty. I don't think it wise to abandon any advantage in the event of unforeseen circumstances."

Treznor clears his throat. "Advantage? Like, you think that while I'm on safari shooting giant lizards with big guns, I might not draw attention to the fact that I'm armed and dangerous?"

The flush turns into a radiant blush, which he thinks looks quite fetching. But even better from his point of view, she still doesn't back down. "Majesty, you're not going to be shooting at giant lizards the whole time. When you appear to be unarmed and vulnerable is when you most need to be protected."

He raises a hand in surrender. "All right, pack it. For the moment, I need to answer this." He waits until she bows and steps out before answering the flashing terminal.

*"Communication from Sakkra, Majesty,"* announces the young man on the other end. Treznor suppresses a frown. When did his staff start hiring teenagers? *"For your eyes only, from the Sakkran Emperor's office."*

Ah, much better. "Patch it through."

He views the message quietly, then switches off the terminal in order to think. An itinerary? Kraah, demanding an itinerary? It seems like everyone is getting old. He pauses a moment to think, then quickly types out a rough sketch of his proposal. Travel to the Sunset Gate whenever Kraah feels like showing up, landing at Red City and dinner at the Governor's Mansion. Breakfast at the hotel, followed by the final equipment check and security sweep, then off for a week of sun and fun on safari. Back for another official dinner, lunch in Devonton, then Kraah could go wherever his cold-blooded heart cared to take him.

Jewel only had one continent, a Pangaea that showed signs of geothermal instability but still a long way off from splitting away from each other. Most of the northern part of the continent had been explored and fledgling towns and cities were beginning to spring up. More and more of the settlers were looking to the west which were more mountainous, but there wasn't the same eagerness to go south. Jewel was a warm world, and the southern part of the continent was hotter than the average Treznor citizen liked. That made it perfect for the Imperial Safari, both in terms of temperature and population.

He glances over the rough draft, makes a few minor adjustments, and fires it off. He sends copies to the Dominion, the NDA and the Triumvirate just case anyone cares or, even better, wants to come along.

[Sakkra]

Captain Sshraa was commander of the Emperor's personal transport. Basically a Corsaire class cruiser that's been refitted by sacrificing passenger compliments in exchange for bigger engines, stronger weapon emplacements, thicker armor, heftier shielding and slightly improved compartments for passengers. As it stood he was Kraah's personal chauffeur, and as such his quarters were plenty well appointed for a Sakkran since he pretty much had to live on the ship in case of some emergency or other, such as the one that stood before him now. He sighed a low sigh, and began doing the pre-flight checks, acquiring of clearances and so forth at Palaai Spaceport as well as rousting the standard crew from their afternoon Paroo with the hop-step urgency indicated in the summons.

While the logistical hornets nest unfurled, Kraah's attendant came into his chamber. The attendant differed from the aide in the sense of one tending to his needs while the other entertained his selfish demands and was more likely to be seen outside with him. The Attendant also served as on-the-spot PR person, damage control agent and reminder of manners. "The itinerary from the Treznorian Empire has arrived. Please take a moment to peruse it." Kraah took the data display with a chuff and gave it the once over with one eye. The other eye stole glances at the attendant from time to time. Kraah's reason for keeping her around was because he was assessing if she was a good match for his oldest hatchling, Gorrm.

Kraah handed the data display back to her. "Looks fine, Gween. Rifle that out to Captain Sshraa for confirmation and get your standard kit-bag ready. Unless you have more pressing business?" For the Emperor, that question was a bit loaded, but his attendant was not one to volunteer any information. All business all the time. "As you wish, your Majesty. but are you sure? It looks like it was cobbled together on a cocktail napkin...."

Kraah let out a sharp laugh at that. "HRARF! Knowing Devon, that probably isn't too far from fact. But let's not over-plan a vacation into dust. The journey is half the fun." He hiked up his pack, and started for the door. "Meet me at the Hairpin (the ship) in one hour and we'll set off." Gween bowed slightly while her dewlap puffed slightly in mild irritation, then she went to pack her things. He'll be the death of me, no lie.

[Treznor]

The band plays on as the alien shuttle touches down at the private Imperial landing pad. A full battalion is present, decked out in formal dress to do honor to a visiting head of state and close ally. The Emperor and Heir wait patiently at the end of the red carpet, also dressed in their finest formal black with silver trim. The Emperor is normally reserved at such events, but today his face wears an uncharacteristic grin. The Heir is more properly somber.

"Chin up," Treznor chides his son as the gangplank lowers from the Sakkran vessel. "You'll be free of me for almost two weeks. Don't think I don't know how relieved you are."

"And if something goes wrong while you can't be reached?" Marcus asks mildly.

"Then you take care of it. You *are* the final authority while I'm away. It won't be long before that'll be the normal state of affairs. If I didn't trust you enough for this, I wouldn't trust you enough to hand the Empire over to you at all."

Treznor security has plenty of practice handling short-notice emergencies like visiting heads of state or the occasional jaunt by the Emperor. Likewise, they've coordinated with a number of foreign security before, especially Sakkran. They'd linked up with the Sakkran Emperor's security long before the cruiser reached Treznor airspace, but there is still a delay while Kraah's personal guard sweeps out of the hatch and individually checks for potential threats to their sovereign's safety before the great lizard himself appears. It is the price that must be paid as the head of state.

The moment Kraah's magnificent crest bobs into view, a sharp order is barked and the battalion snaps into a smart salute. Treznor nods in pleasure; he'll make sure the commander is rewarded for the performance of his troops. Then he steps forward to meet and embrace his old friend half way.

"Good to see you again, Kraah. You remember my son, Marcus?"

[Sakkra]

The security detail swept out of the Reptavian shuttle and did their work swiftly but efficiently. Kraah liked keeping the numbers down and focusing on efficiency. After all was clear, he stepped out in a full-length Changshan-style outfit covered by his leather greatcoat, his Imperial Head-dress fastened down and offsetting the dark earth-tone raiments they seem to prefer in the herpetological Empire. Gween was one step behind and to the left of him in a formal black leather one-piece gown. They stepped lightly as possible so their claws didn't rend the carpet overmuch.

They traversed the red carpet, nodding at dignitaries and officials of the local government as they passed until they arrived before Emperor Treznor and his son. "Well met and good cycle to you, Devon. Indeed I do remember your hatchling, if you'll pardon the expression. haven't seen him in a few spans! Seems to have grown into quite the neonate, yes?" His crest rose high as he chuckled throatily a bit."This is First-Assistant Gween." the female Sakkran curtsies slightly with one hand over her left chest. "She keeps me on track and covers my numerous shortcomings. Or so the reports state."

Gween shoots the over-sized old reptile a baleful eye. "It's your report, Gween. Not mine." One eye returns its attention back to Devon. "Anyhoo, how's our immediate future looking? It's about that time of the week for a good gorging, I think."

[Treznor]

Treznor and Marcus both respond suitably to the female Sakkran. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Treznor says genially. "Anyone who can steer this old lizard to something approximating the straight and narrow deserves both respect and sincere admiration."

Then he turns and leads the party off the tarmac, leaving the band to play on. "If you think can you restrain your legendary appetite a couple hours more, we've got a transport standing by to take us to the gate. I instructed Governor Belloc to make sure he was ready to feed an army. I seem to recall you have a taste for beef, but there are more native selections to choose from as well."

<Three hours later, on a Treznor vessel approaching the planet Jewel>

Treznor gestures to a member of his staff, who relays an order that undogs the window ports revealing the brightly lit blue-green world below.

"I realize you hadn't seen our colony before, firsthand. We've still got Triumvirate researchers spread out to study the natives, including some of your own people, but my opinion is that there's nothing like seeing the real thing with your own eyes."

Jewel is remarkably Earth-like, albeit slightly larger with lower density. Ice caps can be seen on the north pole, but no land is presently visible just yet. There are signs of several low pressure systems building into tropical storms circling the equator. Treznor himself pauses in his travel guide monologue to admire the view.

I think I must return here, again. This would be a great place to retire, if I could get Nath to come with me.

Eventually he shakes himself out of his reverie. "We should swing around to see the landmass in a few minutes. It's just past nightfall on the coast, but at least we'll get a good view of the mountains. The southern areas are a mixture of rainforest and marsh, with a scorching desert just below the equator. I've got a whole department of scientists vigorously debating whether or not to attempt to terraform it. My opinion is that we're not quite that desperate for space yet."

[Sakkra]

Kraah looks out the windows as Devon iterates the points of interest, while Gween takes notes on her mobile. "So is there indeed an indigenous population present? Or is it strictly sub-sapient flora and fauna?" Kraah continues looking out the window, seemingly musing to himself when he lets a low chuckle out. It's translated at any rate into a chuckle, because the actual sound is akin to hacking up a small loogy.

This stirs him out of his reverie. "Sorry, just thinking of the time some now-deceased group tried turning natives of Sslaa IV into footsoldiers and space mercenaries. They tried claiming the Sszeeraa Belt of asteroids as holy ground belonging to them. It was quite funny how that ended. At any rate, what was the topic now?"

[Treznor]

Treznor smirks. "Funny? I suppose if your sense of humor is geared that way, sure.

"We won't have to worry about the natives, though. They are an indigenous population, small mammals that we discovered in the initial surveys but didn't recognize as sentient until they started showing evidence of religion. Their official taxonomic designation is rattus neanderthalensis: rat neanderthals. The local nickname is 'cave rats.' I addressed the Triumvirate Assembly some years back to give everybody the heads-up and invite xenologists to come study them and make suggestions on integrating them into colonial society. I think some of your own researchers suggested that these creatures originally worshiped the giant lizards that were originally at the top of the food chain until we came along and started hunting them. Then we became the subject of their worship. I don't know if we'll meet any while we're on safari, but if we do only the gods know what they'll think of you."

He grins at the mental image of Kraah carried on a pedestal to become the rats' new god.

"They're something of a nuisance to the colony, because like their rattus norvegicus analogs on earth, they're innate scavengers and thieves. Just establishing a common means of communication has been a challenge, because they're still learning to grasp the concept of language."

He glances at the attendant, who is signaling discretely to him. "Looks like we're about to land. We should probably strap in."

[Sakkra]

Kraah and Gween do indeed strap in. One can't have the Imperial Gizzards jostled around unduly, after all. "Your majesty, if I may, I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to touch base with some of the xenologists to learn more of the indigenous populace."

Kraah nods his head sagely. "I approve. We can't have another run-in like we did at Kaarka's Teeth. Remind me to keep the symbiotids concealed should we run into them if they are rapacious thieves and scavengers. And rat-like peoples .... good thing there are no Deep Ones present."

[Treznor]

In spite of being a frontier world, Jewel boasts a remarkably modern -- by Treznorian standards -- city. The initial colony site had been christened by Imperial Decree to be named "Red City," for reasons known only to the Emperor. Ornery as ever, the locals persist in calling it simply "Landing." But they'd had a few decades to build, resulting in straight roads bristling with commerce, tall buildings and a Governor's Mansion as opulent as any you'd find in Devonton. Hover-capable vehicles dart around at breakneck speeds, taking advantage of the planet's ample magnetic fields. Clever fusion-reactor cores, developed long ago by Treznor scientists, provide cheap power with minimal emissions so the city air remains sparkling clean.

To a space-faring people like the Sakkrans, it looks undeniably primitive. But then again, it is a frontier world, after all. Allowances must be made.

Governor Belloc, a leathery-looking woman of middle age, isn't used to sudden Imperial visits, let alone an order to provide a feast suitable for a small army. She'd been advised that the Sakkran Emperor would be attending, but she hadn't realized that the bulk of the feast was meant entirely for him. She'd taken the orders literally and assumed that she'd be hosting an army, and had made arrangements to seat as many as possible in the main ballroom. When the two Emperors disembarked on her landing pad with their unusually small retinue, she'd been shocked enough to blurt out, "Is this all of you?"

The Emperor of Treznor is known for his quirky temper. He can take offense as quickly as a lightning strike, or laugh just as quickly. Fortune smiled on Belloc this day, for the man laughed. "This is all of us. Let me introduce you to the small army you're about to feed: Governor Amelia Belloc, please allow me to introduce His Majesty, the Emperor of Sakkra and Lizard King, Kraah. Kraah, this lady has the misfortune of overseeing my interests here on the colony world. Her misfortune was in bringing her considerable talents to my attention. I rewarded her by giving her more work than any human should have to bear."

Flustered, Belloc opens her mouth to give her carefully prepared speech when a loud rumbling noise erupts from the reptilian Emperor's stomach. Treznor gives her a hard look, and she nods quickly. "Your Majesties, if you'll follow me, I hope you'll find everything to your satisfaction."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

It was the first time in a long time she'd piloted her own shuttle very far out. In fact, it was the first time she'd been out this far at all. Given the distance and the inherent security issues, she'd made the big jumps in a larger ship, accompanied by Treznor forces. And this last jaunt down to the surface would be made in a similar manner.

Of course she missed 'the old days', back when she did what she wanted and damn the consequences. But life had become complicated, and there was so much more at stake these days. so much more to live for.

One of those was already down on the surface, no doubt hamming it up with Kraah. Those two together were trouble, no doubt about it. The thought brought a smile to Nathicana's face. It would be good to get away, at least for a little while, and spend some time doing more than fretting about the kids in between battling the new upper class that had been created years ago in regranting titles to old families of record, and the near constant vying for what power and control were available on account of the changes that had come with that monumental decision.

Between old thoughts, new thoughts, enticing thoughts, and being once again jacked in to the familiar system of her shuttle, the Imperatrice gave in to her impulses and decided to make a less than by-the-book landing once clearance had been given.

She came in hard and fast, ignoring the panicked chatter over the headset. She knew her Selene class at least as well as she knew her husband, and like him, knew exactly what she needed to do to get the responses she wanted from it. As she screamed in for the landing, it occurred to her that she was being more than a little irresponsible. Heads would roll, literally, if anything untoward happened to her - regardless of who was at fault. Devon had always had a short fuse when it came to certain things, and his moods, when it came to how he handled his people, were often hard to predict.

It was with some reluctance she jacked out, shaking out her hair and unfastening the harness. As she stretched and smoothed out her white tailored shirt and narrow black skirt, Massetti peeked in from the back, their bags already waiting in the corridor.

"Can't take you anywhere, can we?" he said wryly, shouldering his own duffle, wearing the standard unrelieved black he'd sported for years in her service.

"A little excitement never killed anyone," she replied dismissively, grabbing her things as well.

"There's 'excitement' and then there's working for you." His unrepetant grin said it all. And she couldn't help but smirk a bit as well.

"At least the pay's good."

"And I earn every red cent of it."

"Smartass," Nathi said, opening the hatch and heading down the short ramp.

"All part of my charm, m'lady."

"Is that what they're calling it these days? We're a bit late, and granted, it was a snap decision to come, but I'd imagine word's been passed on by now," she countered, looking around with some smug satisfaction on seeing the scramble on the ground here and there. "Oh dear. We may have caused a bit of a stir."

"You don't say? Between the Dread Lady and the Emperor, I don't doubt the place is in a tizzy. All these poor people caught between two such terrible tyrants ..."

"Mas?"

"Yes, my fair and beloved leader?"

"Shut it."

"Yes'm."

[Treznor]

Treznor has a prodigious appetite, to put it mildly. It's a consequence of the genetic engineering bestowed on him by their mutual friend and ally, S.H.O.D.A.N., early on in his rule after an assassination attempt. He should have come out of it blind, crippled and comatose, but instead he was restored to a new body with all sorts of enhancements and perks. With those enhancements comes a metabolism that requires large amounts of food to fuel the body. Regular exercise helps maintain both the body and the appetite.

In spite of his prodigious appetite, Treznor remains in awe of Kraah's capacity to consume food, both in speed and quantity. Before he is finished with his first plate, Kraah has already devoured enough protein to satisfy four men. Imperial men and women are hustling to keep his table full, on orders to make sure the Sakkran Emperor never has reason to pause or complain about the wait. The two originally assigned to the duty have already conscripted four more to assist them.

As Treznor muses fondly over the antics of his friend, an aide whispers urgently in his ear. He grins and nods, gesturing toward Governor Belloc who is also watching the old lizard. The look of dismay on her face is priceless; he can almost hear her thoughts calculating whether or not she'd had enough food prepared. Well, he had warned her. The aide hurries toward Belloc to relay the new orders. She rises, makes a polite apology, and leaves the room.

FIfteen minutes later she returns with a new crowd of strangers to Jewel wearing livery with which Treznor is intimately familiar. "My Lord and Ladies, it is my pleasure to present the Dread Lady Nathicana of the Dominion."

Treznor rises to greet his wife with an enthusiastic kiss. "Glad you're here, Red. For a while, I thought you weren't going to make it."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana made no apologies for her own enthusiastic greeting of her husband and consort, while Mas quietly took up a position out of the way, smiling somewhat fondly, but keeping his thoughts to himself at the scene. The years had lined his once youthful countenance, but they hadn't dampened his jovial disposition. Noting the harried look Beloc had about her, he shot her a roguish wink.

"I don't think Mas there thought we were going to make it either. He had some choice things to say about my flying," Nathi replied, already looking more relaxed now that she was here, with Devon again.

"Still, I couldn't let you boys have all the fun. Good to see you, Kraah. You're looking as grandly impressive as ever - and does that attractive glow you have about you mean you're still enjoying the benefits of Dominion oils?"

[Sakkra]

Kraah slurps down the large chunk he had just torn off from a leg of an animal of undetermined origin, and frankly he didn't care what animal it was. he ashed it down with some gizzard stones and a casket of beer, then 'delicately' dabbed his mouth. "Good cycle, Dread Lady. You can bet that any glow emanating from me is indeed due to the oils of your country. I keep a cistern of it in my travel kit everywhere I go, after all!" He raises a hand, drawing attention to his Assistant. "This is Chief Assistant Gween, Minder of Imperial Manners and unofficial poster of bail." Gween shoots him one disapproving eye as she places down her utensils that she actually used! "Esteemed Dread lady of the Dominion, I offer my warmest greetings and wishes for a prosperous Axis for you and your subjects."

She then replaces herself at her seat next to Kraah. Watching them is akin to a comedy sketch, with one the ribald rabble-rouser and the other playing the part of the straight-man. or woman as the case may be. Gween offered tips on decorum and disapproving clicks of her tongue when Kraah slipped up on his manners. Suffice it to say her tongue she be able to press half a ton at the rate she's going.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathi nodded and smiled warmly, albeit close-lipped at Gween. “It is a pleasure, Gween – my thanks, and likewise well wishes for you and yours.”

As she settled in to her own seat next to Treznor, she couldn’t help but think Gween was in for a losing battle. If there were anything she’d learned over the years, it was that try as one might, the likelihood of changing a man to suit one’s fancies was nigh impossible. However motivated one might be.

And sometimes … just sometimes mind, that was for the best in the end. Though she’d never admit it out loud.

“Mas, are you going to have some?” she asked, dishing a healthy if not overly-so portion for herself. “I think there may just be enough, so long as you watch your fingers. A dangerous thing, coming between a man and his food, you know.”

“No ma’am,” the man replied, idly adjusting the collar of his longcoat. His tone, and hers, were easy and colored with a longstanding tradition of giving one another hell, in a generally well-meaning manner. “Ever vigilant – or at least, that was the idea originally. Just pretend I’m not here. You’ve gotten rather good at that over the years.”

“Only when your mouth isn’t running,” Nathicana lightly quipped, settling into her plate with a satisfied murmur of approval. She ate neither as quickly, nor with as much gusto as the men, having not burned up her own reserves with any strenuous activity, maintaining sufficient ladylike manners without forcing herself to eat like some of the half-starved fluttery waifs that passed for leadership or royalty in some circles.

“So tell me gentlemen, what’s the plan? It’s the first time I’ve been out this far – and I have to say, Dev, I’m impressed. I’d seen the reports, obviously, and Marcus has spoken about it too. But just hearing about it didn’t really do it justice. I think I rather like it, at least at a glance.”

[Treznor]

Treznor throws a bone heavy with meat to watch Kraah snap it out of the air almost faster than the eye can follow. He doesn't remember when they started the game, as it's a spectacular breach of formality as well as a travesty of protocol. Governor Belloc's expression informs him that he's successfully scandalized his subjects once again. It's probably why they play it as often as they do.

"Thanks, I'm kind of proud of this place myself. A lot of money has gone into building this colony, and there's still a vast amount of territory that has yet to be explored by civilized sentients. We'll be heading into one of those tomorrow." He eyed Mas' high collar, and his grin got wider. "Dress for warm weather, and if you didn't bring any toys to shoot game with, you can borrow some of mine. We're going dinosaur hunting!"

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana nearly chokes at the sudden unexpected ‘game’ the boys have developed. And for a moment, she’s reminded of a memento she has back in her office in the government offices in Devras, sitting quietly in a place of honor on a shelf, cased in amber. Its enough to make her shiver involuntarily, seeing the strength behind those jaws in spite of the genial manner the Sakkran always seems to exhibit.

“Jesus, Dev,” she says, covering with a quiet chuckle. “I don’t care how old you boys get, I swear you’re never going to grow up.”

Mas simply nods and grins at the Emperor, though his response is respectful. “Outstanding, your Majesty - thank you. I look forward to it.”

[Sakkra]

A neat report of a crunching sound comes from the caught bone, laden with meat, as Kraah snatches it deftly and snaps it in two, then fourths and so on in his jaws. Closed, of course, to keep the sound from being too much of a distraction. Their teeth are usually not visible due to a lining around the mouth of leathery plates that keeps food in more easily. A few small gulps sees it down to its destination; "Dinosaur hunting, you say? Anyone we know?" A flexed dewlap and a stern eye keeps him from laughing too hard at his own joke, though he manages a low chuckle.

Kraah hoists up his mini-keg sized mug of brew, takes a gulp from the fluted lip, and slaps his hands together. "Let's see. Hmmm.....I have a modified Mass-Driver rifle up in my cruiser. Better range in exchange for slower RoF. Keep it locked away tight so it isn't pilfered by overzealous entrepreneurs looking for a few Teeth at the auction house. I could have that sent for if the clearances won't be a problem."

[Scolopendra]

A little bit before now, in Devras

"Hrrr. Well, what do you know?"

* - * - *

Slightly after that, in orbit around Bright Morning

While lying on his bunk on his stomach with chin propped up in his hands while his elbows rest on the top of the bunk and one leg idly bends upward at the knee isn't a particularly dignified position to be in, especially for someone of his rank, nothing's stopping him while he converses across a little less than a thousand light years through a paradoxically beaten up yet well cared for portcomp. The dinged and scratched case is the only part left that's original, but Scolopendrans are sentimental about their sturdy information technologies, especially when they're used to prop open access hatches and beat down pantheyrs. The person he's talking to on the screen looks sort of like a pantheyr, but more orange with black stripes and a white cowl and femininely-styled mane rather than all-black and maneless. In any case, one usually doesn't expect someone greying on the sides to adopt such a position, though his skinny frame apparently hasn't lost any flexibility over the years (or at least none that he'd admit). "Oh really?"

"Yes, Nathi sent it along, and from the ceecee-list it went to all the late greats. The Elders have declined due to speaking engagements and, well, the current crop is a bit too straight-laced to join in."

"Yes, padishah Ipolla doesn't exactly strike me as the kind to drop everything and let her hair down."

"She usually wears her hair down. I thought you more-or-less answered to her directly?"

"Nope, CINCTYCS is in charge and he's the one who talks to the Council if all goes well. I think he might be a robot--he's not aged in thirty years."

"Not like he really has to if he doesn't want to."

"Point. Anyway, you're intimating that there's a decided lack of representation."

The feline face on the screen chuckles, a soft huffing of breath. "More like a decided lack of responsible adults."

"I know what happens when those two lack responsible adults. Very well, I'll arrange the transportation, you arrange the clearances, though I figure 'invitation from Imperatrice' will go hand-in-hand with 'Ambassador' and 'Sky Marshal' in terms of that. Somehow, I expect I'll get more 'no's than you."

* - * - *

"No, Sky Marshal, you can't bring a battleship through."

"I can personally vouch for Battleship Divinium. Despite the name, it doesn't have much of a god complex and neither does its crew."

The woman in her sharp black and silver uniform sighs. "Thank you, Sky Marshal, but policy is policy. The Empire is solely responsible for its colonial defense for reasons of sta--"

"--te security, yes, yes. You never know, I might be part of a cabal looking to assassinate the entire continent." The Sky Marshal winks... then smirks broadly. "What if I pull rank?"

The gate traffic controller raises an eyebrow. "Could you?"

"If it were official get-out-of-the-way-we-must-save-everyone business, oh yes. It's not, though, so I assume any WarShips or DropShips are out. How about just a shuttle, then?"

"No offense, sir, but define 'shuttle.'" The woman allows herself a little grin. It's been an interesting day, at the very least. "You in the Ticks tend to build things large."

"Civilian, Selene-class. Scolopendran registry SC320ALM Lightning Bug."

"Oh. That should be fine, sir."

Grin, through closed lips. "Excellent."

* - * - *

Nowish

While the civil services of the Triumvirate and Segments aren't quite known for foppery, they do make some smart uniforms. The two had a debate on whether to dress in civilian style or in uniform; being an unofficial event, it would be rather inappropriate to show up in Class As. They had perfectly decent formal civilian clothing, after all. The Sky Marshal actually looked rather dapper in a dinner jacket by all accounts and the Ambassador had an evening gown that could engender a taste for fur amongst the Dawn Paragons. Still, in the back of their minds, they knew how the debate would come down since, really, it would be inappropriate and one of the reasons they'd stayed in the services for so long is that the uniforms are, quite simply, cool.

This explains why Sky Marshal Timofeyev Bondayehr and Senior Diplomatic Officer Zinn'Yersha walk into the foyer dressed as they are: he 180 centimeters tall in his green-and-black, complete with peace-bonded sword (a gift from some time ago) and pistol topped off by his green marshal's cape; she 213 centimeters tall in her sky-blue-and-black with silver piping. Both carry silver on their collars; his sports a stylized angular eagle of sorts constructed from what used to be a five pointed star, some trapezoids, and triangles; she the usual crossed olive branches with two pips inside the boughs. Bondayehr is just sad that regulations dictated he had to take his green wheel cap off upon entering the building; while not ashamed of the grey encroaching up his short brown hair, he does think the cover completes the image.

"So, you're the ambassador." He glances up at his taller consort. "How are we going to play this?"

"Hrr. 'See how serious everyone else is being and play along' usually works."

Timofeyev looks down momentarily in thought, then sighs. Standing on one foot, he rubs the toe of his other boot along the back of his trousers. "Ever wonder how it is that you never see the scuff mark until just before you're being presented?"

"T'rralap, the fact that for some reason we've decided that we need to use shined combat boots for Class As has been the secret bane of my existence for as long as I've been a diplomat."

[Treznor]

Dinner continues with no end in sight. Conversation is punctuated by ravenous attacks against meat, sometimes while it flying through the air and sometimes while it lies innocently on dishes minding its own business. Treznor hears faint shouts from the direction of the kitchen as the head chef and sous chef argue over the consistency of hollandaise sauce and who is going to go hunt down a dinosaur to keep food on the guests' tables. It gets even more interesting as Belloc's majordomo steps smartly into the room to introduce Senior Diplomatic Officer Zinn'Yersha and Sky Marshal Timofeyev Bondayehr of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra.

He stands to greet them warmly. "I was expecting you to join Kraah and I on the first shuttle, but I'm glad you made it anyway. Did security scan you within an inch of your life?"

Nathicana smacks him non-too gently. "Dev! Behave."

"What? Yes, I know he's one of the most scrupulous men I've ever met, but his scruples sometimes conflict with mine." He pauses as silence descends on the room, every eye staring at him. "Don't look at me like that! Just because I have to ignore them from time to time doesn't mean I don't have them!"

[Scolopendra]

Bondayehr grins with just a bit of teeth, but the waggle of his eyebrows suggests the implied threat is just in fun. It had been a long time since that particular op, and he'd long since forgiven Devon for making that trip necessary by breathing. Not that he'd ever tell, of course. More fun to keep the bastard on his toes, especially now that theoretically the Sky Marshal works for him... and Nathi, and Old Man Kraah. "Afraid not, Devon. I was able to high-ball them into letting me pass with all you see here by 'letting' them convince me I couldn't bring a SupEmp through. After all, this"--he puts his left hand on the pommel of his sword--"is a gift from you for saving your ass, this"--he puts his other hand on the grip of the blocky pistol--"is part of the uniform, this"--he shifts his hand from pistol to hilt of the toddler's-crayon-dull stone wt'sai knife--"comes with her"--he cants his head towards his consort--"and these"--he jingles the loops of pink triangles on rough threads and dog-tag chains minus the identifiers--"are the proof that the only way your mooks will make you safe around me is by cutting off my arms and legs... and even then that safety is tenuous at best."

He winks then shakes hands with the undefinably ugly man. "After all, absolute and insufficient."

"Diplomatic warfare Timofeyev comes with all you see here," Shorty deadpans before continuing. "We figured we should come because you all seem to love getting into trouble when there aren't responsible adults around. However, we see you already have several." She bows politely to Gween, Mas, and the planetary governor. "Of course, looking at the state of the tablecloth, we've clearly forgotten how you love getting into trouble even when there are responsible adults around."

"True, kóška moj, but with our reinforcement the forces of order and probably good now definitively outnumber the forces of chaos and probably less good so I think we can take them." The Sky Marshal nods firmly. "Right, so let's get this bunch of disorderly heads of state in line ooh is that that fancy sort of bread you can only get at fancy dinner parties?" Walking up to the table, the Sky Marshal snatches up a roll and takes a bite. "It is! Belay that last, Diplomatic Officer"--one hand raised in emphasis to the pause--"we're defecting."

"Should I notify high command that we're joining the side of chaos and probably less good?" The kzinnret plays her role of straight (catwo)man well, folding her hands behind her back and looking decidedly nonplussed. Only the twitching of her tail gives away her amusement.

"Nope, already gone into radio silence as per ess-oh-pee in contacting the enemy. Besides, we're not really defecting, that's just a clever ruse to infiltrate their lines and... am I saying this in my out loud voice?"

"I'd presume so, sir, since subvocal comms through our headware would be impolite amongst company."

"Damn." Bondayehr squishes the roll in his fist. "Foiled by the rules of etiquette once again!" He turns to the less silly people around the table. "By the way, I'm a strategic genius of sorts in command of so much firepower that I make the old angry gods look like a bunch of dilapidated ancient cripples wearing old-people diapers. Doesn't that just inspire you with confidence?"

[Sakkra]

Gween looks at Kraah askance. As much as she's able to, anyway, the eyes being placed where they are. "And you associate freely with such rowdy company? Have you ever thought how this would reflect on your image?" The Old Man looks her over twice, crest raised a bit on the high end of the spectrum. "And if I let you have your way, I'd be stuck at some nameless backwater in a cotillion dress, puckering up to the aft-end of every minor dignitary in sight! With my pinky aloft!"

He lets out a loud chuff. "Bosh and flimshaw! An epicurian of my stature prefers his dinner boisterous and in good company. Sky Marshal Bondayehr!Long time and good cycle! Senior Diplomatic Officer Zinn'Yersha! I hear favorable reports from Colonel Sshrrakka of your doings! Not much else; I have to catch up on my reading." He bows with a slab of meat crossing his chest. "Join the side of chaos! We have pinball!"

[Scolopendra]

"Old Man Kraah has an image?" Bondayehr scratches the back of his head and shrugs. "To be honest, ma'am," the military man says, drawing up a seat for Shorty to slink into and waiting for her to be situated before taking one for himself, "the good Emperor has been known to be... libertine for as long as I've been serving." Sitting down, he remembers that he had a roll. "Aww, I crushed my fancy roll."

As he starts to nibble on it, Zinn'Yersha takes up the strain. "I'm not sure you can entice him with pinball, Emperor; that's more his mother's game. However, if you could sell me on the forces of chaos I could certainly sell him on it." She smiles impishly while her bat-wing ears flit.