Sayeeda didn’t much like funerals. In theory Andor’s Armored had always tried to recover the bodies of fallen troopers for proper interment. That wasn’t always practical. She had too many memories of manhandling the bodies of fallen comrades over the side of the fighting vehicle during an engagement or coughing as she breathed in the finally dispersed vapor of plasma torn troopers. As the captain of the Highlander however it was proper that she was present as the three soldiers who had died of their wounds were loaded into the airlock and jettisoned into the roiling tide of RIP space. 

Aiden, having shed his armor in favor of what she could only assume were the most subdued clothes Neil had ever owned, spoke a few solem words and then dismissed the gathering. Three more of his men were critically wounded but had been saved by virtue of putting them in stasis within their three theoretically functional cryo pods. It was axiomatic that if a soldier could reach advanced medical care he would survive, modern medicine didn’t lose too many people who got to a surgery while still breathing. Several other men were due long sessions with the autodoc but would emerge none the worse for wear.

When the formalities were done Almaric’s advisor, the grizzled old sergeant, invited them to conference with the Prince. The cockpit was chosen by virtue of being the only large space that could be isolated from the surviving troops. Several of his hangers on tried to join the meeting but the lack of space and a stern glare from the sergeant were enough to dissuade them.

“Firstly I would like to thank you again for saving my life and those of my men,” Aiden began with a grateful nod at the Highlander crew. Out of his armor he was a surprisingly impressive man, he clearly spent a good deal of time out door or else worked hard to maintain his physique. That wasn’t Sayeeda’s usual impression of aristocrats, they tended to let themselves go as far as their egos would permit.

“I would like to offer you a suitable reward as soon as I return to *BLANK*,” he went on grandly.

“Well we will be happy to accept your gratitude,” Junebug commented drly, having gained the distinct impression she was interrupting a rehearsed speech. Aiden turned his dazzlingly white smile upon her with an engaging nod. She could see why Taya was smitten with him.

“I would also like to discuss chartering this vessel… The Highlander is it? Direct to *Blank*, I will compensate you for your lost cargo but it is impressive I return home immediately,” the prince declared with surprising earnestness. The old sergeant was nodding his approval of this course of action.

“Surely you would be more comfortable on a proper passenger vessel…” Sayeeda began to object but Aiden was shaking his head even as she began the objection.

“Comfort is an irrelevance Mistress Cykali…”

“Captain,” Junebug corrected.

“Captain Cykali,” he finished with an apologetic bow of his head.

“You see the story of how my vessel came to be wrecked on *BLANK* is a complicated one.”

“It is treason sire, call a spade a bloody entrenching tool,” the old solider grumped earning a slightly pained glance from his principle. Aiden spread his hands and leaned back against the viewport.

“I have something of a reputation as a scholar of the Ancients,” Aiden went on, unconsciously his eyes flicked to Neil’s tattoo before returning to the group. That showed a surprising degree of observational skill given the crisis they had just come through.

“I was on my way to view the ruins on Hue 326 when I decided to stop and investigate the rumors of uncharted Ancient sites on *BLANK*. We had almost landed when an explosion tore out half our engineering section and the ship crash landed.” Sayeeda let out a low whistle and Taya gave her a questioning look.

“According to the charts Hue 326 is another week or week and a half away,” she explained.

“If he hadn’t come out of the RIP…”

“My ship would have vanished forever and no one but the plotters would know what had become of me,” Aiden concluded, his face hardening for the first time into something beyond a jovial aristocrat. 
[@POOHEAD189]