Rimush, seventh son of the fourth litter of Emperor Dren and Captain of the Raleighan battleship Aranzah, was asleep in his quarters. The Aranzah’s captain’s quarters were well stocked with expensive Odlan goods. Ornamental weapons adorned the walls. A hardwax seat and desk sat in the corner, rarely used. Rimush wrapped himself in the finest silks that could be spun from Rachnian seamstresses.
He was due on the bridge to lead the first shift. No one, of course, could reprimand him for being late. 1st Lieutenant Inar would be the only one even willing to wake the prince, though he, like Rimush, seldom saw the point of having Rimush on the bridge. It wasn’t that Rimush was simply lazy, though he often was. It was that he could not muster the motivation to take his role seriously. Everyone on the Aranzah knew that its patrol was largely makework. Monitoring the safest part of the Raleighan border, near the Border trade Federation of Odlan, severely overgunned relative to any of the other ships in the region, and having only once even considered firing a cannon shot. The crew understood the situation as the Emperor granting his son an easy life. Rimush saw things slightly differently.
The Raleighan people were a somewhat recent addition to the quadrant. Wild dogs native to a planet in the Rayleigh system were uplifted by genetic engineers from Foundation space. These little grey people made a habit of colonizing worlds without intelligent life, picking a promising species, and imbuing them with more “civilized” traits before leaving. In the case of the Raleighans, they were made bipedal, given dexterous hands, intelligence, speech, and bronze age technology and culture. However, 931 nanoquads ago, Rachnian explorers landed to greet the local Raleighans before being brutally mauled to death. A particularly enterprising Raleighan, Nurgil, stole their ship and started a 20 nanoquad long reign of terror that seeded the 1000 world Raleighan empire presided over by Emperor Dren.
Many Raleighans, including Rimush’s older and stronger brothers, saw their origins as aspirational. Victory through conquest, enslavement, raiding, and more often than necessary, utter planetary destruction. Rimush, being the runt of his litter and the youngest of all his brothers, lacked that killer instinct. He didn’t desire power or conquest, and was content to live out his life as the pampered son of an aging emperor. He saw his post as a mercy from an otherwise disappointed father. A preferable alternative to exile or being hunted by his brothers. Rimush had no conquests. He never even attempted a raid. And while he had no desire to violently attain what could be bought, he did feel a sense of shame. Shame for being a runt, for lacking the violent ambition of his brothers, and for having the privileges that he never earned by Raleighan standards.
Inar banged on the door. “Rimush! Believe it or not you’re actually needed. Now!”
Rimush crawled out of bed and slipped on his officer’s jacket and a pair of slacks, not bothering to comb down his fur. “Inar, I smeg you not, if someone isn’t dead or dying I will…”
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“His Eminence, Emperor Dren, is requesting to board.”
“What!?” Rimush straightened up his posture.
“His Eminence…”
“I know what you said! When?”
“In about 10 toqs.” Rimush started toward the docking bay with Inar following and continuing his brief. “I have the boys down in docking finding some of the least torn linens to act as a welcoming mat.”
“Authorize his arrival!”
“Already done, sir.”
“What in Guh is my father doing out here? A proper imperial welcome takes dozens of picoquads for a customs and protocol team to arrange.”
“You may want to use a comb before addressing the men, sir.” Inar gestured vaguely towards Rimush’s tangled mane. Rimush started pulling at his fur and patting it down as the two entered the lift.
“I hate when my father makes a public appearance… massive pain in everyone’s collective tail.”
“Maybe he just wants to reward you for our ship’s vigilance against the hoards of BTFO freighters passing through. Truly, our mission is the only one preserving the empire.”
“You know I could have you in the stockades for that kind of talk.”
“Yeah, but you won’t though.”
“Frack off.”
The lift doors opened to four lines of Ralieghan soldiers nervously waiting around a makeshift orange carpet. Rimush took a quick look around before whispering to Inar. “That’s bedding, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. Stained with coolant.”
“Is that…safe?”
“I can look into it.”
Rimush grumbled before addressing the crowd. “Someone get me a cover!” The soldier closest to Rimush on his right ripped the rank insignia off his hat before tossing it to Rimush. Rimush slid it on his head and continued. “His Eminence, Emperor Dren, Savior of the Raleighan Fleet, and Singular Leader of Raleigh, is paying us a visit presently. When he arrives, you will not make eye contact. You will not move out of formation. You will speak only when spoken to by an officer or His Eminence, the Emperor himself. And every sentence you utter to him will begin with ‘Your Eminence’. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir!” The room shook with the soldier’s shouts.
Rimush turned back to Inar. “I’ll handle the welcoming and try to get His Eminence on the bridge as fast as possible. Wouldn’t hurt to get the lieutenants to polish off the control panels and have refreshments available.”
“Sir, we have about 3 toqs. I gave that order before I got to your quarters.”
Rimush turned back to the soldiers lined up around the carpet leading to the airlock door. “Well then, I guess it’s just down to me.”
Inar stood perfectly at attention behind and to the right of Rimush, whispering “We’re fracked, aren't we, sir?”
“Yup.”
An alarm sounded as the airlock began pressurizing.
