tar Commander Aleksandr stood on the bridge of the Broadsword class DropShip, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for contact with whoever lead the military operations of the planet Rán.
Below them the planet spread out like a great blue marble, its many oceans looking still and smooth from their vantage point high above the atmosphere.
At the controls, Point Commander Oliver said, "Connecting." Under his breath, so low that only Sasha could hear him, he added, "Finally." Sasha tried not to grin.
The man who appeared on the holoscreen was lanky in a way that implied height. He wore a dark dress uniform, complete with cape, and a look of deep annoyance.
"Major Reynir Gunnarsson, Commander of the X Militia," he said. He spoke with the lilting accent that Sasha had come to recognize as distinctly Rasalhague. And then, dryly, the major added, "I've been expecting this call."
Sasha did not dignify that with a response. "I am Star Commander Aleksandr of the 352nd Assault Cluster, Beta Galaxy. The Wolves of Kerensky have claimed this world for their own. What tame dogs defend it?"
"I don't negotiate with pirates," Gunnarsson said. "You may come and be crushed, if you'd like."
In his periphery Sasha saw Oliver raise one eyebrow. It made his face move strangely around the enhanced imaging implants near his right eye.
"We are not pirates," Sasha said firmly. And then, "I find that outcome unlikely, Major. I will see you on the field."
"Yes you will, Commander."
The transmission cut out abruptly.
"I like him," Oliver said.
"Do not get attached. I may have to kill him in a minute."
"You get all the fun," Oliver grumbled. But he clicked the ship's coms on without needing to be asked.
"Prepare for mech combat," Sasha ordered. "We drop immediately."