o Sandeman itself, to talk about it."

"You wish to surrender?"

"Not hardly--but I will, if that's what it takes to get a chance to
talk to you."

"I will have to consult the Warleader on that, Prince. In the
meantime, I will have your ship brought aboard our cruiser--release
your controls to our operators."

Medart did so, nodded. "You have control."

The Sandeman disappeared, his place taken by a view of space. A
ship-image was growing, and Medart's sensors told him it was a big
one--not quite as large as an IBC, but close. Shortly afterward, he felt
the surge of tractor beam lock-on and the ship grew more quickly--fast
enough he would have worried, if anyone but a Sandeman had been at the
controls. With their reflex speed double that of the human standard
norm, though, the speed of his approach was perfectly safe; as his ship
was brought into the docking bay and landed, he double-checked his
appearance.

He wasn't used to seeing himself in anything but uniform, since he
spent so much time aboard Imperial Navy ships. But he'd worn similar
clothing during the Mjolnir Conference, with the Sandemans there
thinking it appropriate for his rank: silvery shirt, emerald-green
pants, black uniform boots and equipment/weapons belt, topped by his
green, silver-fringed arms baldric with his arms pin on the left
shoulder. He'd worn his coronet as well, there, but that had been to
distinguish him from the other Rangers he'd called in; he saw no reason
to go to that extreme here.

Satisfied, he went to the airlock. As soon as the pressure equalized,
he opened it and left the little ship, leaning against its hull with
his arms crossed to wait for his hosts--or his captors.

Moments later the bay's inner lock cycled open and a small group of
warriors approached him, the central one wearing honor-black. Medart
straightened, then bowed and addressed that one. "I am Prince James
Medart of the Empire in Alternate Alpha Prime. You do me honor,
Warleader, wearing ceremonials. Am I prisoner, or guest?"

The Sandeman returned the bow. "I am Ryan, a warrior of Clan Vader and
Warleader of this fleet. You place me in a difficult position, bearing
a lightsaber you claim was a death-gift, and claiming further that Clan
Vader still owes you life-debt. If either is true, I cannot honorably
hold you prisoner--but I have only your word and a lightsaber that
could have been taken from a dead or captured warrior in this
unive