Tension fills the lavishly decorated room. Why are Conqtor’s private quarters four times larger than mine? I’ve been told Captains can modify their own ships, never had the inclination nor the motivation to do so myself. Big rooms make me feel uncomfortable. For a large portion of my life, my whole world was a tiny corner in a tiny room. Conqtor clearly doesn’t feel the same way. Guess he needed the room for all his trophies and awards and the five meter tall hand painted portrait of himself.

  “Sklurmy, please stop chewing on that, we are guests, and I’m certain that’s very expensive.”

  Buenae’Venture sits across from me. Not too far from where Conqtor lounges on his literal throne. The two of us were invited to Conqtor’s vessel to discuss our next moves. Besides, his vessel is the only other place I’m allowed to visit anymore.

  “Fret not, old friend. That relic is from so long ago that I have forgotten who gave it to me and for what triumph.”

  Sklurmy slobbers on a crystalline statue of a race that I cannot recognize. This was probably modeled after a great figure from their culture. A mighty leader or a deity of some sort, given in great earnest on a glorious day of their planet's long history that Conqtor was personally responsible for; and now it’s a chew toy.

  “I do apologize. Sklurmy gets so excited in a new environment. He wants to put his scent on everything.”

  “No inconvenience my old friend! If it bothered me at all, you would know very well.”

  Conqtor gestures to a collection of mounted heads in the trophy section. I really hope all of those were non-sapient species.

  Women from many different species suddenly appear through hidden entry ways that I didn’t notice in all this clutter. I’ll give this to Conqtor, he doesn’t discriminate. I’m sure that each one is considered among the most beautiful of their respective cultures. Some of them I see it, some of them I don’t. One of the prettier ones, at least in my opinion, hands me what looks to be a beer in a platinum goblet. I take a swig, tastes like a lager, but way stronger. Fairy’s by my side with a small cup of a strong-smelling herbal tea; like you stuck your head in a spice rack kind of strong. Joan had a large wooden mug full of something sweet, either a nectar or some kind of soda, which I can’t tell, which she gulped down quickly and greedily. In any other circumstance, I'd be offended about her getting a significantly less fancy cup. But she did drop the first two.

  “More for Joans please.”

  The ladies take back the mug and disappear once again. I’m sure we’ll see them soon enough.

  “I must say,” Conqtor sounds uncomfortable for the first time. “Bringing one of your mates is something I have no qualms with. However, I expected you to bring that eloquent Wahk once again. Or at least one of equal appeal."

  “What? No. Why do I have to explain this to everyone? Joan’s not my mate, I just can’t get rid of her.”

  “I see, is your Wahk mate aware of this?”

  “No, Vivian is not my mate either. I would think you would realize after the last time we met.”

  “We merely traded our partners. I thought you humans were more liberated than that.”

  “I assure you, whatever you’ve heard about us, it’s greatly exaggerated.”

  “I was so worried for a moment you had such pedestrian tastes as to favor someone of such low pedigree.”

  “I’m of low pedigree. But, we’re both Expeditionary Captains.”

  “Yes yes, I suppose we are.”

  Since I’ve met him there hasn’t been a single thing Conqtor said that hasn’t made me hate him more. I remember hearing stories about Expeditionary Captains, the elite of the elite of the elite. The greatest men, women, and others that the Union had to offer. Single individuals who have ended wars, stopped famines, and fixed political strife; feared and respected beyond Union territory. When I got this job I thought it was a mistake, a fluke in the system. Now, I’m starting to think I might be the best of them.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Perhaps we should move on to more important issues.”

  Buenae’Venture is trying to clear the dead air. He’s right though, we’re here to speak business. I wordlessly motion to Fairy to bring in all the evidence we’ve prepared.

  “We’ve been examining the evidence against the Union. We’ve been putting them through countless tests for any signs of tampering or artificial alteration. We believe that we-”

  “No need, we already know that it’s a fabrication.:

  Take a deep breath, Tom, no matter what I still need him.

  “I believe that we should have some real evidence to prove that instead of just dismissing it all so easily.”

  “We have all the evidence we need in pristine quality.”

  Conqtor presses some hidden buttons upon his throne. A large holoscreen descends from the ceiling, displaying the image of the supposed Union raider.

  “This vessel cannot exist. It contains a curved bell wing design, which had not been utilized in several centuries. Yet, its main armament is a Mark 8 particle laser accelerator, a weapon that has existed only for the last three decades and is far too powerful for a vessel that small. The tactics displayed are common for wretched brigands. Union officers, even ones commanding vessels this small, would not be this sloppy. And the Union insignia itself, I have seen countless crests from every section of Union space used by thousands of different species of all manner of calligraphy. This does not follow a single one of them. It is simply not real.”

  Dumbfounded does not fully describe what I am feeling; good start at least. Buenae’Venture looks just as shocked; practically choked on his wine. Fairy is desperately shuffling through her paperwork. I already reviewed everything prior to this. The best minds on the Moby worked for days. We didn’t have any of what Conqtor just said. Only ones not trapped in a state of shock are Sklurmy and Joan who are currently engaged in an intellectual conversation.

  “Glogg glooogla glog”

  “Gllog gogle googl glogg.”

  A debate for the ages.

  “Conqtor, if you knew all of that, why didn’t you bring up any of those points at the last assembly?”

  “Was it not all obvious?”

  I almost brought Inanna to this. Guy already nailed one of my crew. That little speech would have made it two.

  “Buenae’Venture, do you think all that would be enough to clear the Union?”

  “It is possible. Or at least it may have, if not for the collapse of Conqtor’s credibility.”

  Conqtor gasps, offended.

  “What could I have possibly done to make anyone doubt such objective truths?"

  Buenae’Venture and I side-eye each other; trying to see if the other has the guts to explain it. I sure don’t.

  “I’m sure if we just take his arguments and have someone else state them it will work fine. This is hard to argue against.”

  “Unfortunately it is not so simple. Since the last assembly there has been a rapidly growing sentiment against the Galactic Union. We were already on poor terms and this has only soured things further. Winning back enough delegate votes to avoid retaliation will be cumbersome.”

  “Facts are important. That should be all that matters.”

  “Not to those who value opinions more.”

  He’s got me there.

  “All this blaming over nothing.” Conqtor leaves his throne in a huff. “Fine. You two figure out what to do. I shall see to our luncheon.”

  He leaves through another cluttered doorway. I think his feelings were hurt. Good.

  “How did we get stuck with him?”

  “I requested him. Our families have long ties. Once a symbol of unity between our two great nations. And the stories they would tell. The great Sword of the Union, I was told. Perhaps I asked for too much.”

  “Hey now, I heard those stories as well. Even the farthest corners here about how great Expeditionary Captains are supposed to be. Take it from one who knows, there is a lot of undue hype.”

  A fluffy paw tugs at me.

  “You always need to find a way to be hard on yourself, don’t you? There are some good Captains out there.”

  I pet her soft little head.

  “Yeah, I suppose there are.”

  Red. The room is overtaken by red. Lights flashing from every corner.

  “What is that?”

  Conqtor rushes back from his hidden rooms, rushing to his throne. A few button presses bring an emergency broadcast.

  “-nfirmed in Sector 82. Three vessels and an Outpost Station have already been confirmed destroyed. A general evacuation is being ordered. All vessels must return to the War Door for safety or else leave the system as fast as possible.”

  Sector 82. If I remember my star map, that's not far. Practically in the War Door’s backyard. A whole armada could get there in half an hour. Who is insane enough to try that? The message is repeating.

  “A Bathos fleet has been confirmed in Sector 82. Three-”

  Bathos? Here? That armada isn’t going to be enough.

  “Tom, return to the Moby. We must assist the Protectorate fleet.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.”

  “Yes, I… wait, it is?”