Admiral Rodriguez and his newly promoted First Officer, Soren Mudrose, stand on the Bloodbearer's Bridge, gazing through its windows at the gorgeous green and blue planet ahead of them. A nearby monitor silently visualizes the Red-Tongue's trajectory as it takes off, vanishing into the void without any fanfare.

"We will head to the Core Worlds now," José says, his emotions muted. "I must seek help from the Mallali if I am to combat Yama."

"Yes, Admiral..." Soren says. Her gaze becomes distant for a moment as various emotions surface on her face. However, she quickly pushes them down to focus on her duties. "I recommend charting a course to Enchillon."

"Enchillon..." José mutters. "Interesting. Is that the Mallali home world?"

Soren shakes her head. "Not exactly. It's the capital of the Milky Way, as defined by the Sentient Alliance. All species are free to travel and congregate there. Even us Kraktol. However, the Senate is most likely the place you will need to visit. All of the top Mallali congregate there most of the time. Each one owns vacation homes on their home worlds, but Enchillon is, without a doubt, one of the three most prosperous worlds in the galaxy. Many would kill to live there."

"Mmm..." José mutters, saying nothing else.

After a moment, Soren glances at him. "Admiral? Are you familiar with Enchillon?"

"Am I? Very much so, yes. That's where Nick was born."

"Nicholai Azaram? Your best friend?"

José nods slowly. "Yes. Enchillon was a prosperous world, indeed, but buried under its surface lay countless seedy organizations. Like me, Nick had a rough childhood. He learned at a young age just how despicable certain Terrans would willingly act, so long as it meant amassing credits or satiating their... carnal desires."

Pursing his lips, José's gaze hardens. "I was the same way. After suffering for my entire childhood, a recruiter for Ramma's Chosen happened upon me. He saw the anger in my eyes and thought a young boy like myself might possess some aptitude for killing. He was right. I did."

"And so did Nicholai, I'm guessing," Soren mutters. "You two met while working for Ramma's Chosen?"

"We met in the Academy, yes."

José pauses for a second. A smile creeps over his lips as his mind drifts to the past.

"Haha. That bastard got assigned to be my roommate. I must have hated his guts more than humanity's heretical enemies. We butted heads so many times, people thought we would rip each other apart before we ever saw live combat."

"But you didn't," Soren notes. "What changed?"

"We got put on a mission together; our initiation test. However, it wasn't play-acting or some elaborate drill. It was the real deal. We came under fire. I flinched. Nick didn't. He pulled me away even with three bullets in my gut. Dragged me ten miles back to the safe zone. I nearly died from blood loss. After that... well, I decided he wasn't as bad as I first imagined."

José shakes his head. "It's funny. All those petty squabbles we endured. All those vicious words and slurs we flung. In the end, all it took was one life and death situation to bring us together. That's the thing about Terrans, Soren. Nothing brings out our true nature quite like looking Death in the eyes, then spitting in her face."

"You... you must miss Nicholai terribly..." Soren whispers.

"Yep. But what can I do? I can't reverse what's already happened."

The Admiral chuckles. "You know, Soren... we Terrans have a saying. You die twice; the first time when your body expires, and the second once somebody speaks your name for the last time. Nicky-boy hasn't died yet. He's still here with me, in my heart. As long as I remember his face, his words, and his wisdom... he'll remain alive."

Turning to look at his subordinate, José's expression becomes contemplative.

"You should have gone with your sister, Soren. I know you care about me. I know you want to follow me... but she's your closest relative. Someday, one of you will die, leaving the other behind. Don't you think it would be better to stay together and enjoy the good times? To build up pleasant memories?"

Soren nods. "Kyargh. Yes, Admiral. But... I promised you I would follow you no matter what. I meant what I said."

"Why?" José asks. "Are you hoping to obtain control of my technology? To learn everything you can from me? Are you hoping to bed me? What's your motivation?"

Soren's scales flush with color. "Kyargh! Admiral. Your words are... quite crude."

She hesitates for a moment before continuing. "However, if you must know... I don't think I have an answer. I spent my whole life following orders, doing whatever a commanding Kraktol ordered. In the end, I felt as if I had gained little and wasted my time. On the other hand, after meeting you, I felt as if I had experienced something new. Something profound. Your method for dealing with Orgon was... very different from anything I'd seen before."

She continues. "I believe it was your compassion which ultimately swayed me. Any Kraktol with your abilities, knowledge, superior biology, and weaponry, would have crushed Orgon and slain all his crew without batting an eye. A Kraktol's pride is their greatest weakness. It is illogical to kill others simply because they are weaker than you. Certainly, if you wished to prevent a promising talent from surpassing you, or if you feared someone's potential, that might be a decent reason. But you spared everyone except for Orgon, stating that he was at fault for committing genocide."

"I see..." José says, musing quietly to himself. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I'm fine with you staying, Soren. And don't worry. Megla can return whenever she likes. I don't blame her in the slightest for departing. She seems to feel incredible guilt, as if she's betrayed me, but in the end I was only her Admiral. I am neither her owner nor yours. You two are free to do as you please."

Glancing meaningfully at his new First Officer, the Admiral adds, "You, too, may leave whenever you like, for as long as you want. If you ever wish to take an extended vacation to Dragua, just say the word. If you wish to see Megla again, do not bring my feelings into the equation. The last thing I want is for either of you to feel sad, trapped, or lonely."

"I'm sorry, Admiral," Soren says, "but you can't get rid of me that easily. I wish to remain by your side while you accomplish amazing feats. I will remain there until one of us dies or you command me to leave."

"So be it, then..." José replies.

After another minute of chit-chatting, José waves his hand vaguely at the Bridge's windows.

"Alright. First Officer Soren, set a course for Enchillon. Adjust the Inverted Space time dilation to its minimum settings so we can get there in the least time possible."

Soren nods. "Yes Admiral. One moment."

She walks over to the navigation console, where two Kessu officers sit, along with three holographic Terran personnel. After taking a seat, Soren's claws burst into a flurry of movement. She pauses just before activating to gasp in shock.

"Admiral! What... what is the meaning of this?"

Slightly alarmed, José hurries over to her side, only to raise his eyebrows in confusion.

"What? Is something the matter?"

Soren nods slowly. "Yes. These numbers can't be right. Why does the time dilation matrix state that we will require five years to travel to Enchillon? Don't you think that's a bit much?!"

José laughs. "No. Not at all. Remember, Soren, Inverted Space allows the Bloodbearer to travel to any position in the universe instantly, when going by galactic real time. However, the time dilation bubble around the ship will allow the requisite amount of time to pass inside the ship, meaning we will still require a similar amount of time to pass as if we were traveling at Warp 6. Enchillon is several thousand lightyears away. Last time, we barely traveled fifty lightyears from the plasma cloud to Tarus II with time dilation set to maximum. That decision gave us plenty of time to complete our repairs. However, now we are traveling tens of times further."

José cocks his head. "How long did you think it would take us to reach Enchillon?"

Soren shakes her head. "I don't know. A few months, maybe. I didn't give the matter much thought. Goodness, it's no wonder you Terrans chose to enter stasis. Five years!"

"Well, five years is actually quite a short voyage," José comments. "If we were to travel across half the Milky Way, we would require twenty, thirty, or perhaps even forty years to reach our destination. That would be a bit excessive, even for us long-lived Terran elites."

"I see..." Soren says. She shakes her head and chuckles wryly. "Your people truly confound my view of common sense. Every day, I learn something new."

After pressing several more buttons, Soren activates the Bloodbearer's jump drive. Seconds later, they enter Inverted Space, and the galaxy around them disappears.

Soren stares out into the void, noting the absence of any stars.

"We've successfully enter Inverted Space, Admiral. This time... we didn't experience any hiccups with the inertial dampeners."

José smiles, then squeezes Soren's shoulder. "Good work, Number One. Now, come with me. We need to start working on improving crew cohesion."

Soren rises to her feet. She falls into position beside José as he strolls off the Bridge, then heads down the hallway, passing many Kessu and even a few Kraktol.

"Crew cohesion, Admiral?"

"That's right," José replies. "What happened in the caves was... well, it was a goddamned shame. If Drall hadn't plotted behind my back, he wouldn't have torn the Kraktol in half. Those who remained are most likely my most ardent, fanatical supporters. This may sound good on the surface, since it means they're unlikely to betray me, but it also is likely to lead to infighting among the Kraktol and Kessu. They may start vying with one another for my attention."

José continues. "The Kessu seem to revere me as some all-knowing god. They think of me as an invincible existence, someone who is morally pure and infallible. I need not tell you what a ludicrous concept that is. As for the Kraktol, they regard me as their true leader, someone who raised them from the bottom to the top. Any perceived slight toward me is likely to result in violence, with many actively working to 'protect my name'."

Soren frowns. "Admiral, I find it hard to believe that all of the Kraktol would end up as your diehard supporters. Surely, some of them are mere opportunists? Some might be scoundrels who betrayed the Thülvik in the hopes you would lead them to greater glory. Don't you worry that such opportunists could turn against you in the future?"

"Naturally!" The Admiral replies. "Anyone who betrays their old commander might backstab their new one. I can have Umi scan their brains to search for deviant thoughts, but such actions are likely to cause permanent damage. Unlike when I simply had Umi wipe the memories of Orgon's crew, a memory search would be an invasive procedure that actively retards their current and future development. Only a heartless pirate would resort to such measures to ensure the loyalty and cohesion of his crew."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Soren asks.

"Haha... it's simple," José says. "We... make lots of friends!"

Soren blinks twice. "Huh? Admiral? What do you mean?"

"You heard me. I'm going to turn this ship into a vessel of comrades. Team-building exercises. Daily training on the holodeck. Festivities. Fun for everyone. We should work to build camaraderie within the crew. Within the next five- no, the next three years, I want everyone working together as a well-oiled machine. By the time the Bloodbearer leaves Folded Space, we should already be the deadliest vessel in the entire Milky Way."

Soren glances at her commander. A newfound sense of awe fills her gaze, as if seeing another incredible side of him she never noticed before.

Such a simple solution. He makes it sound easy, but how simple can merging two wildly differing species into one big family be? Surely, there will be countless pitfalls and hurdles along the way.

José turns his head to the side while he walks. He eyes his First Officer and chuckles. "Let me guess. You're thinking this won't be easy."

"That's right, Admiral. Certainly, you've shown that the Kraktol and Kessu can set aside their differences for a while... but under the surface, there are countless angry Kessu who will never open their hearts to those who slew their families. Frankly, I cannot blame them, either."

"Trust me, Soren..." José says. "Terrans spent the first hundred thousand years of our existence learning how to turn blood-enemies into blood-brothers. We know better than anyone how to switch irreparable hatred into undying loyalty. I once hated Nicky-boy enough that I nearly killed him in his sleep. All it took was one life and death experience to soften my heart. You might find the Kessu and Kraktol much more amiable when placed under similar circumstances."

A few minutes later, Soren and the Admiral arrive in the lowest deck, where the reacquired Titan battlesuits rest against the walls, countless Kessu crawling all over them to check for damage, repair subsystems, and clean them up to perfect working order.

The Bloodbearer's two leaders quickly tell everyone on deck about the upcoming team-building exercises, then leave to head to the hangar bay. There, they find a large number of Kraktol resuming their pre-Tarus II expedition work to fix up the remaining combat and auxiliary vessels inside the Bloodbearer. The Admiral and First Officer once again explain their future plans while receiving attentive nods in return.

After repeating this pattern across more then two dozen decks and major facilities, José pauses to look at Soren.

"Are you alright? You've been letting me do most of the talking, the past few times."

Soren blinks her eyes, seemingly shaking off some unsettling thoughts. "Ah. Sorry, Admiral... I was just thinking, that's all."

"About what?" José asks.

"You."

"Me?"

Soren nods. "Yes. I can't help but... but worry for your safety. You've made an enemy of my Thülvik. She's going to fly into a rage when she finds out about Drall's death. Not only that, but you've also refused to become her ally. What if she starts plotting against you in the background?"

José shrugs. "What if she does? Should I be worried? The Kraktol may have a colossal army of ships, but they're all Third Era relics. Even the junkiest Fiftieth Era garbage compacter could outrun them, shrug off all their attacks, and blast them out of the sky."

"Admiral, the Bloodbearer is certainly an ungodly powerful war machine, especially now that it's almost returned to full power. However, the Mallali are not weaklings. They possess many Twentieth, Thirtieth, and even a few Fortieth Era vessels. If amassed properly, they might be able to threaten you. If Loreen Kindris were to work her claws in the shadows..."

"Let her," José says, waving his hand flippantly. "I've dealt with countless schemers and backstabbers over the years. In one on one combat, I'm unmatched. That was the case during the Terran era, and it's sure as hell true now. Not only am I superior biologically to the Milky Way's current inhabitants, but I also possess weaponry far mightier than anything they can fathom."

The Admiral chuckles. "I'll act politely so long as they do the same. If anyone pisses me off, though... well, what have I got to lose? I'll just show them why Terrans are the scariest monsters in the galaxy."

José's words only serve to worry Soren more. "You say that, Admiral, but... you already died once. You're not invincible."

"I died to a Demon Emperor," José replies, his smile vanishing. "Don't think your Thülvik can compare to a Demon Emperor. Nobody can. Even forgetting his magic, Yama's body is a hundred times more durable than any Kraktol's. I unleashed the full potential of my psionic energy and barely even wounded him. I hurt myself more than I did him!"

He clicks his tongue. "It's a goddamn tragedy, but what happened, happened. If I could go back in time to fight Yama again, I would in a heartbeat. Considering how underprepared I was, though, I don't think I could have won. Next time will be different. Next time, I won't fail."

Soren sighs. "I admire your mental fortitude, Admiral. I wish I had half the faith in myself that you did."

"Don't worry. I have more than enough faith in you to make up for any deficiency on your side!" José replies.

Soren smiles and shakes her head, but doesn't reply. To her, the Admiral's words are merely polite, not deservedly sincere.

After they resume their course, they continue informing the crew about the upcoming team-building exercises, then slow to a stop at the Bloodbearer's rear. The humming of the jump drive engines makes their internal organs quiver slightly, but otherwise, not a soul stirs.

"You know..." José says, "this vessel used to be a weapon of war. Through it, Ramma's Chosen launched countless attacks on our enemies. We overwhelmed them with fighter squadrons and attacked their worlds with the Titan battlesuits. But... that was in the past. I wonder if I've let its old roots color my thoughts too much."

"What do you mean?" Soren asks.

"I just think that maybe I ought to look into reworking how the crew of the Bloodbearer see it. What if I set aside petty power struggles and, instead, simply focused on building camaraderie forever? This ship could be a fantastic home for the Kessu to regain their species' vitality. Outside the constraints of space-time, we could rapidly pass several hundred years and explode the Kessu population, then return to repopulate Tarus II. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Soren nods. "I suppose it would. But what about Yama?"

"Yeah... Yama..." José murmurs.

The Admiral gazes at a corridor wall, staring off into the distance.

"I guess I'll have to take care of him first. The other stuff can come later."

With a wave of his hand, José turns to walk away.

"You're dismissed for now, Soren. I'm going to go handle some things. I'll meet you in the cafeteria later."

"Yes, Admiral..." Soren says, nodding at his back.

After the Admiral leaves, Soren sighs.

"I hope this all works out."