There were guard patrols flying in formation between the planets and out in the far reaches, and each had enough firepower to crush most pirate fleets without breaking a sweat. Heath felt like he had entered another world, but this exercise had a point, so he ignored it and focused on his crew and his ship. “You see that?”

  “Very well Heath, your point has been made. We are pathetic.”

  “That was not the point I was making.” Though it was how he felt as well. The feedback loop from [Ship Merge] wasn’t always a good thing.

  “Look at all the potential we have,” Jenny Mae said. Her level of optimism was breathtaking in its unattainability for the rest of them, but she persevered. “We will get there eventually. Plus, we have something they want.”

  Heath could tell the Loon wasn’t mollified, but she wasn’t quite as upset either. “Thank you for the reassurance, Crewmember Jenny Mae.”

  Heath checked the log, another two hours of stewing before they would get where they were going. It was going to be a long day.

  The time passed in an uneasy limbo. None of them could relax, but there wasn’t enough time to get lost in a project or distraction. A video played on the bridge view screen but nobody paid attention. Jenny Mae and Copperfield weren’t even heckling the characters, despite it being a common favorite between them, which told Heath more than [Leadership], or anything else, just how stressed they were.

  When they were ten minutes out, the Loon took the initiative and turned off the movie, replacing it with something far more interesting. Copperfield let out a low whistle and Heath found himself nodding in agreement.

  An honest-to-gods battleship. Sleek, powerful, it was an Onyx-class Destroyer. Top of the line, larger than the Loon by a factor of fifty, and not technically rated for non-military use. But high-noble Houses were in their own grey areas. Batteries of plasma guns, rail lasers, and missiles with payloads that could turn the Loon to dust lined each side of the hull. He was stuck between the eternal little-kid desire to witness an explosion like that, and the conviction of keeping it far away from his own ship.

  On a section of the hull bigger than the Loon’s entire footprint, there was a depiction of the Althalas family crest, painted in blue and white and contrasting sharply with the dark greys of the ship hull surrounding. The vicion tree – Ekaterina had impressed upon them all how important the exact species was – stretched from roots curling around the undercarriage up the entire height of the hull, branches spread wide and hiding another few weapons arrays beneath the brightly-colored paint.

  The impression was not one Heath knew how to place. He wasn’t jealous. Battleships gave up speed and maneuverability for firepower and defense. Since deciding he would become a Pilot and eventually a Captain, Heath had loved flying, and battleships were notoriously boring in that regard. But it was awe-inspiring nonetheless.

  More importantly, it put him and the rest of the Loon’s crew on edge. This was more than standard inspection procedure.

  “Aunt Marina must be home then. She was on a tour of our holdings when I left.” Ekaterina was the only one not looking nauseous at the sight of their destination.

  “Aunt Marina?” Heath managed to choke out.

  “She’s an Admiral. That,” Ekaterina waved her hand towards the screen, “is the Tundra. Her flagship.”

  “Does your aunt spend a lot of time doing random ship inspections?” Copperfield’s voice was an octave higher than usual.

  “No.”

  “How comforting.” Emerald audibly gulped, the sight of the destroyer having cowed even their most-seasoned crewmember.

  “Open up a channel.” Heath ordered.

  The tell-tale click and blue light came on, letting Heath know he was live with the other ship. “Cargo ship, designation Phoenix, reporting in as requested.”

  There was a pause on the line, and then a crisp voice came back, full of the kind of arrogant assurance that all directives would be followed; the kind that only came from long-standing command.

  “You’re the Phoenix and I’m the emperor. Proceed to the shuttle bay and follow all instructions. My combat crew hasn’t gotten any exercise in a while, I wouldn’t test them.”

  “Aunt –” but the line cut off before Ekaterina could even get the full word out.

  Jenny Mae stood, nervously smoothing out her wrinkle-free coveralls. “She seems….nice.”

  “She’s not,” Ekaterina said. “But she’s fair.”

  There was no other option, and Heath took over manual control, easing through the indicated force field and into a shuttle bay, landing the Loon without so much as a bump, neatly within the spot marked for them. By a semi-circle of heavily-armed combat Classers.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Everybody ready?” Heath asked.

  “If I say no can I stay on board?” Emerald heaved a sigh but hauled themself upright all the same.

  “Nope.”

  They assembled in the cargo bay, the Loon helpfully opening the airlock hatch and extending the ramp. Heath got the feeling these people liked protocol, but he weighed that against lessening the likelihood he would be shot. Then he gestured for Ekaterina to join him at the front.

  The hatch finished opening and they exited the ship.

  “Hold there,” shouted the leader of their escort. Despite what a lifetime of action vids had led him to believe, it was apparently too much to hope that everyone would recognize Ekaterina on sight.

  “Scan reading no weapons.” One of the masked Classers dropped their gun, just a fraction.

  “Glad to see you aren’t idiots. Nice and slow, get out here. The Admiral wants to talk to you.”

  Heath held back any response he might have given were they on a Rim station and followed after the still-unidentified Classer when she turned and marched off. He risked a glance at Ekaterina, but she had her noble mask firmly in place. They had worn her down enough that she rarely wore it when it was just the crew. So much so that he was surprised to see its reappearance. No emotion, ice cold eyes, and a chin tilt that announced everyone she saw worked for her.

  He felt himself standing straighter at the sight.

  The sheer size of the destroyer was made evident by just how long it took them to get to their destination. Corridor after corridor, two separate lifts, and more turns than Heath could keep track of now separated him from the Loon. Yet another risky glance and a nod from Jenny Mae assured Heath that at least someone was tracking the route.

  The entire time, they saw no one beyond their escort. On a ship this size, that could only be intentional. What that intent was, Heath couldn’t guess. Noble mindgames were one asteroid field he’d never learned to fly through.

  After twenty minutes of trudging they stopped outside an unassuming hatch. Nothing outside of ship standard except for a perfect rendition of the Althalas family crest painted across the metal, in gold this time, gleaming against the otherwise undecorated hall. Nine hells of a statement.

  There was no signal he could see or hear announcing their arrival before the same commanding voice from their capture commanded them to “Enter.”

  It was the stateroom to end all staterooms. Everything in it, from the real wooden furniture, secured in place with subtle enchantments, to the windswept landscapes hanging on the walls, screamed money.

  A long table dominated the center of the space, and at its head sat one of the most intimidating Classers Heath had ever seen. Her aura alone nearly had Heath retreating, etiquette be damned. Slate grey eyes, an exact match for Ekaterina’s, skewered him in place instead. Her crisp black coveralls had the same tree embroidered on the breast, but she was otherwise unadorned. No weapons, no jewels or other signs of rank. Her clothes were of the highest quality but not flashy.

  None of that detracted from the fact that she was clearly the most dangerous person Heath had ever met.

  A wave of her hand dismissed the combat Classers and left Heath and his crew alone in the room. That was another mark in the intimidation column. She was so confident she could handle them all that there was no need for any sort of guards. It was correct, but Heath was getting annoyed at the constant reminders of his own triviality.

  “Niece.”

  “Aunt.”

  “You have your signet ring?” Even without her crew to witness, Marina Althalas kept up the cool tone of a woman in command.

  Ekaterina complied. Pulling out a ring and placing it on her left hand. It was some sort of soul-deep enchantment Heath had never heard of before the last few weeks, but allegedly she’d owned it since birth and it was impossible to fool, even by the best shapeshifting Classes.

  “Hmm.”

  Heath heard a world of trouble in that low hum. Again he was struck with the urge to run, and again he stayed put. But he had a feeling his own homecoming and subsequent interrogation was going to seem like the gentlest coddling by the time the day was over.

  “You return late, on a ship with faulty codes, with a different set of Classers than you left with.”

  A squeak came from behind him, but Heath wasn’t going to turn his back on this predator to find out who made the noise.

  “Yes.” Ekaterina was uncowed. Perhaps there were patented noble training methods for staring down terrifying family members. Maybe she would share. Heath would need them for what was going to come later.

  “Explain.”

  “Forgive me, Aunt, but I believe I should be speaking to my father first.”

  A single eyebrow rising towards her hairline was the only reaction from Marina. Heath felt his whole future teeter on the edge of that narrow arch.

  “I am tasked with the security of this system. I will not let what are most likely bandits approach the estate without explanation. Even if they brought you home.”

  “Stone fucking cold,” Heath heard Copperfield murmur behind him.

  As subtly as he could, and still one-hundred percent sure that Marina noticed, Heath kicked backwards, making contact with the Corsair’s shin.

  “Aunt Marina, please?” Ekaterina’s voice wasn’t quite whining, but she wasn’t too far off either. Heath tucked that observation out of sight, he enjoyed all his body parts where they were.

  The Admiral said nothing. She didn’t need to.

  “Fine,” Ekaterina huffed. She then launched into a heavily edited story of her time on the Loon. Complete with such breathtaking understatements as ‘sought out advancement opportunities’ and ‘endeavored to perform a rescue’.

  By the end, Heath was halfway convinced that the last year or so had just been a comfortable romp across the stars, and not a series of life-or-death battles that treated Imperial law as rough guidelines and suggestions.

  Through it all, Marina remained unmoved. He wasn’t sure she had even blinked during the half hour report. “I see.”

  Whatever she saw, it definitely wasn’t the truth.

  “You aren’t telling me everything, but that is to be expected from anyone returning from their Journey. Explain the ship.”

  “What about the ship?”

  That got the first real reaction from the Admiral. “Honestly, child.” Marina shook her head before continuing. “Tell me why the ship is using outdated codes. Our records show the Phoenix as being scrapped decades ago. The sequencing is at least five security upgrades out of date.”

  “We ran into trouble.” Ekaterina shifted from side to side, her own composure slipping for just a moment.

  But a moment was enough. “What kind of trouble?” Marina pounced on the hint.

  Ekaterina cleared her throat. “The piracy kind.”

  “You led pirates all the way here? What kind, how many?”

  “Not exactly,” she hedged. “More so that we were forced to commandeer certain equipment, and we did not have the luxury of negotiating a price.”

  The two Althalas Classers stared each other down for a full ten breaths.

  “You’re right,” Marina finally spoke. “You should be telling your father this. But no more fake codes.” She turned to acknowledge Heath for the first time since they entered her domain. “You will remove the paint and start using the correct access protocols. I assume you are competent enough for that much, at least.”

  “Aunt –” Ekaterina was cut off with a raised hand.

  “You will be given permission to land at the estate. You and your…crew, will comport yourselves with the dignity such an honor demands.” She said ‘crew’ the same way his mother had referred to his slime farm when she found it under his bed at seven years old. “Do I make myself clear?”

  It was more than clear to Heath that this woman assumed he was a barbarian invader to her perfectly ordered world. “Crystal.”