“I look ridiculous.”

Genvass stared at his reflection in the mirror, tugging at the high collar. A costumed stranger stared back at him. Most of the people the Dàifu enlisted for this endeavor had already left, but a man and woman remained behind to put on the finishing touches. He looked down at the star-shaped metal ornaments pinned to his jacket, and then back up at her. “You mind telling me what these are for?”

“Those are your medals,” his clan leader assured him, sipping a cup of tea.

“I see. And what, exactly, did I earn those medals for?” he demanded.

“Oh, we’ll figure that out later,” she said with a wave of her hand. “The important thing is that they make you look regal.”

His assistants opened another box, pulling out a piece of red cloth, looped it into a large circle, and began fitting it over his jacket. “What the hell is this?” he cried out, glaring at the costumers.

“Your sash,” the Dàifu nodded sagely. “You can’t expect to be respected as an ambassador without that.”

“Well, forget it. I’m not wearing that,” Genvass growled, crossing his arms.

“You should be grateful we decided against the hat and sword,” she chuckled. “Now that really would have been gilding the lily.”

Yanking off the sash and angrily tossing it aside as the assistants rushed to save it, he faced the older woman. “This is pointless,” he insisted. “None of this is going to mean anything to the other races.”

“We’re establishing a precedent,” she reminded him. “And you won’t have to dress up in the full outfit all the time, just for important diplomatic events. Except for the medals,” she amended, “you have to wear those no matter what, though we’ll come up with smaller, more subdued versions for everyday attire.”

“That’s it, I’m done,” he snarled, pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside as well. “You’ll have my resignation on your desk first thing in the morning.”

The Dàifu sighed, setting down her tea. “Leave us,” she ordered. The pair hurriedly gathered up their boxes and pins before exiting the room. “We really don’t have time for this, Genvass,” she admonished him. “There’s a great deal left to be done before you depart on your mission.”

“Weren’t you listening? I. Quit,” he over-enunciated in order to make his point. “You’ll just have to find someone else to play dress-up with.”

“Do you actually believe I have nothing better to do than toy with life-sized dolls?” she said, exasperated. “Honestly.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “In the years you lived among the Baishain, did you ever attend one of their Ministry’s galas?”

“A couple,” he grudgingly admitted.

“And did any of them show up wearing the equivalent of dungarees?” she snapped.

“Well, no, but…”

“But nothing,” she finished for him. “If you’re going to be taken seriously, then you have to look the part.”

“I never saw any of the other races in a getup like this,” Genvass said peevishly.

“That’s because those other races have had centuries or even millennia to earn the respect of the interstellar community,” the Dàifu pointed out, “whereas we, as you said yourself, do not have that luxury. We need to make it apparent right out of the gate that we are a force to be reckoned with, which means we must use every trick and shortcut we can think of to accomplish that goal.”

He sighed and then looked once more at his reflection. The look wasn’t terrible, come to think of it. Genvass turned, looking at his silhouette in profile. The jacket’s brocade added a certain élan to his bearing, he had to admit.

“... still not wearing the sash,” he grumbled.

“We’ll see,” the Dàifu said smugly.

The sound of boots thudding on the crystalline floor yanked him from his reverie as he looked up from the text he was studying. To his surprise, a furious Rúna Aukes barged into his office, past the sputtering aide stationed outside. She came to a halt in front of a desk and stared daggers at him. “Is this your doing?” she challenged him.

“Hello Rúna, it’s nice to see you again,” he sighed, “and… I have no idea what you’re talking about, though your presence here explains the rather odd message I got the morning.”

“I’m talking about this,” she snarled, jabbing a finger at her collar while ignoring his comment.

“Your neck?” he hazarded.

“No, this,” she repeated, this time grabbing her collar and shoving it towards him, emphasizing a silver pin.

“Rúna, I’m not a Valkyrie,” he patiently reminded her. “I don’t know what that means.”

“They made me an officer,” she all but spat out, “and then informed me I was to report to you.” She glared at him, awaiting his response.

“Umm… congratulations?” Genvass said hopefully.

“... what did you just say?” Rúna hissed, her hand going to the hilt of the sword at her waist.

He pinched his nose and tried again. “Look, I don’t know why a promotion and reassignment has you so worked up,” he began, “but I assure you, I had nothing to do with it. That being said… I’m fairly certain I know who’s responsible,” he said in resignation, before gesturing to a nearby chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Reluctantly, she did as he bade, collapsing into the chair with an unhappy expression. “I doubt I can explain in a way you’d understand why the promotion sticks in my craw,” she told him, “but there’s a divide between officer and enlisted that goes way beyond the rank. Officers are supposed to be the planners, looking ahead, while NCOs are the ones getting their hands dirty to make sure those plans actually work. I like what I do, and I’m damned good at it. But promoting me to captain?” She could barely suppress a bone-deep shudder. “It makes me feel… unclean.”

Genvass stared at her for a moment. “Rúna, you’re right. I don’t understand. Not really. But… if I might make an observation?”

She gave him a half-hearted shrug that he interpreted as acquiescence. “You impressed me back on Gyrfalcon,” he told her, “and everything I’ve heard about your career since has done nothing but reinforce that opinion. Despite what you may think of the rank and position, as well as any misgivings you might have, I am firmly convinced that you would excel in the role.”

Rúna eyed him with suspicion. “You’re just saying that so I won’t start breaking things.”

“I’m being completely forthright with you,” Genvass assured her, “though I would really appreciate it if you didn’t smash up the place.”

The Valkyrie sighed as the fight drained out of her. “If I do this,” she said finally, “there are a few conditions attached.”

“Name them,” he told her.

“First off, I get to pick my own people. And I decide how they’ll be used, no one else.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said honestly.

She nodded as he accepted her terms. “Second, I answer directly to you, and you alone. No pawning me off on some flunky. The instant you make yourself ‘unavailable’... I’m gone.”

“Done,” he agreed. “Anything else?”

Rúna cocked her head, regarding him. “I won’t lie. I didn’t think much of you when we were on Gyrfalcon,” she said candidly. “In fact, being completely honest, I thought you were the epitome of every Dharmist stereotype I’d ever heard. You and Kai constantly butting heads didn’t help, but that was only part of it. The larger part was that you were always advocating decisions I felt were… well, I’m just going to come out and say it. Decisions that I thought were cowardly.”

“You’re not pulling any punches, are you?” he winced.

“I think we both owe each other the truth,” she informed him. “No one on that mission came through it unscathed, Genvass,” Rúna continued, in gentler tones, “and the man I see today is a far cry from that Dharmist I met all those years ago. I witnessed your transformation myself, the beginnings, at least. And I heard how you organized your clan and coordinated with the Corsairs to bring them here. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t,” he admitted.

“I thought not,” she nodded. “Which brings me to my last point.” She leaned forward in her chair, looking him square in the eye. “Tell me why you took the job.”

“Equal parts ignorance and necessity,” he sighed. “It’s an important job, and someone has to do it… and for some reason I have yet to fathom, my clan leader seems certain that person is me. Had I known what I was getting myself into, I might have refused, but now that I’m here?” Genvass returned her gaze, measure for measure. “This is too important to just walk away from. There’s a lot of people out there worried about what we might become, and as I am discovering, plenty of Terrans who are worried about the same thing.” He reached down and opened a drawer, removing a bottle of hootch and two tumblers, pouring a healthy dollop for them both before passing hers over.

She accepted the glass with a nod. “L’Chaim,” she told him, raising her drink high before taking a swig, while he did likewise. “And how do you see your role in all of this?” she pressed him.

“I believe in peace,” he said quietly. “Not ‘Peace at all costs', or ‘Peace in our time’, but real peace.” He stared off for a moment before shaking his head. “We’re just starting to put down roots here,” Genvass continued, “and I want to do everything I can to encourage that.” His gaze hardened as he looked at her. “Because we can’t afford another war, Rúna. None of us can.”

The Valkyrie stared into her glass as she considered his words. She was silent for almost a minute before she finally spoke. “No… we can’t,” she agreed. Slowly, her eyes met his once more. “Swear to me you’ll adhere to that philosophy, no matter what, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“I swear,” he said solemnly.

Tilting back her glass and draining it, Rúna rose to her feet. “That’s good enough for me,” she agreed. “I’ll keep you posted when I bring in personnel and equipment.” Coming to attention, she said formally, “By your leave, Ambassador.”

“Oh, before you go,” he told her, digging through the pile on his desk until he found what he was looking for, handing over a tablet. “This came this morning as I said, but I think it’s really for you.”

She tucked the notepad under her arm. “I’ll go over it first thing,” she promised, before performing an about-face and exiting the office.

There were roughly ten seconds of silence before he heard, “... dress uniforms? Are you fucking kidding me?”

With a sigh, Genvass opened the bottle and poured himself another drink. Something told him he was going to need it.

It was a few days later when the Dàifu showed up with a guest. “Ambassador, I’d like you to meet Captain Aynur Taneka, commander of the CCS Mako.”

Genvass reached out to greet her. “It’s a pleasure, captain,” he said, taking a moment to size up his visitor. She was whipcord thin, a thick shock of black hair rising above steel-gray eyes, with an air of quiet competence about her. His first impression was of an individual who’d worked hard to get where they were and could handle themself in a tight spot. She met his gaze with a sober expression, concealing nothing, yet advertising even less as she shook his hand.

“Ambassador,” she said with a polite nod.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” his clan leader suggested, leading them to the parlor situated across from his desk, as they took their seats. Moments later, an aide entered with refreshments, obviously prearranged by the Dàifu herself. There were times it sorely tempted him to hand the job over to her and go back to exploring the empty cities, the way she kept an active hand in; so much so, in fact, he wondered if he’d be allowed any autonomy at all.

“I take it then that Captain Taneka here is to be my chauffeur?” he asked.

“That’s the plan,” his clan leader agreed. “I believe we’ve come to an arrangement we’re both satisfied with.”

“I see,” he said casually, before turning his attention to the Corsair. “What are your first impressions regarding the job, captain?” he asked her.

“Beats fighting the Yīqún,” she shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “But if you’re looking for a more in-depth analysis, it sounds like about ninety percent of the time we’d either be in transit or else docked somewhere. Soft duty,” she said with a hint of a smile.

“And the other ten percent?” Genvass inquired, suddenly curious.

“Hauling ass, or fighting to stay alive,” she chuckled. “Even soft duty gets boring, eventually.”

He stared at her with renewed interest. “You honestly think we’ll see that much action?” Genvass said in surprise.

“Ambassador, half the galaxy still views us as dirty Terrans, something they’d scrape off their boot, while the other half believes we’ll be showing up any day now, armed for bear with Precursor tech. If anything, I’m probably understating it.”

“Interesting.” The good captain had no problem speaking her mind, a point in her favor. The last thing he needed was to surround himself with sycophants and Yes-men. “And what’s your opinion of the Alliance?” he probed.

“Good bunch, mostly,” Taneka shrugged. “It’s a young organization, with all the teething problems that implies, not to mention that it’s a patchwork quilt of a fleet. You’ve got a hundred different militaries involved, each with its own rules and traditions, none of the weapons or equipment is standardized, and don’t even get me started on their chain of command. It’s like herding cats.” She set down her teacup and leaned forward. “That being said, there’s definitely a storm brewing on that horizon.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed her. “I’ve heard rumors about a few minor squabbles, but nothing more ominous than that.”

“I imagine we hang out in vastly different environments,” she fired back. “Ask yourself this; why was the Alliance created in the first place?”

“To defeat the Troika,” he answered immediately. “Then the Yīqún came roaring back; thankfully, we already had something in place to help fight them off as well.”

The captain pointed her index finger at his chest. “Exactly,” she said triumphantly. “Only now the Troika is broken, and Terra alone knows where the drones ended up. As far as they’re concerned, the job’s done. No sense in keeping it going if there’s no one left to fight.” There was a pause as she fixed him with a hard look. “Only some of them are starting to think there is someone to fight, after all.”

“... you mean us,” he said quietly, as a sudden sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

“I do,” she nodded. “It hasn’t come to a head yet, and there’s plenty of diehards that still support us, like the Ixians, but sooner or later, one of two things is going to happen. Either they’ll disband, which is the best possible outcome for all concerned, or else they’ll reorganize and focus on us as the biggest threat to their existence. If that happens… then things get ugly very quickly.”

Throughout the exchange, the Dàifu had watched the conversation closely but remained silent. Now, however, she faced her clan member. “Well? What do you think?” she asked him.

Genvass put down his own cup and smiled. “I could use someone like you in my corner, captain,” he said honestly. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Taneka just grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”