Pulling a comb through his wet hair, Vathion eyed his reflection. Other than his hollow, sunken eyes, Vathion supposed he looked presentable.

His sleep had been broken and plagued with nightmares. The first time, he'd woken screaming and terrified. In an attempt to bore himself back to sleep, he had pulled up the crew dossier on a datapad and started memorizing. The second time, he had given up and started reading his father's autobiography.

Vathion shoved his hands through his hair to break it into smaller chunks. He'd wet it again to fix the weird, rucked-up part on the back of his head. Leaning closer to the mirror, Vathion wiped his finger across his Bondstone. There were still some specks of blue paint on it from the play.

Jathas' eyes were silver, Paymeh's are blue. Today, it's violet. Maybe it's got something to do with what Paymeh did? Whatever Paymeh had done. Vathion had never heard of a Hyphokos acting like that before. Hyphokos usually respected each other more. As Jathas had explained to Vathion once, Bonding with a Gilon meant that Hyphokos had another spot to store extra memories, like an external hard drive for a computer. Gilon couldn't access it, so whatever Hyphokos put there was generally safe.

Maybe it had something to do with that mental link?

Vathion could only think that there'd been some feedback from Paymeh merging. Hyphokos could merge memories through touch-telepathy. They could also access the stored information in their Gilon through skin-to-skin touch.

Lowering his hand, Vathion clenched his fist and thumped it against the bathroom counter once before standing back. If he could get away with it, he would gladly punt that blasted lizard! He and Jathas had always made a game of physical abuse, but it was a mutual thing, and they'd never actually hurt each other.

Vathion eyed his reflection and scowled at his uniform. He could tell it was his father's. The same as he could tell that the bathroom had belonged to his father... and the bedroom... and the bed...

At least the boots are mine.

Lifting his shoulders, Vathion set them in a confident angle and then tried on a cheerful grin.

His grin immediately curdled.

Turning on his heel, he fled his reflection.

"Kiti, what time is it?"

"Oh-eight-hundred, Heartland time," the soothing female voice of the ship's AI said. The beginning of first shift. "You should rest some more."

He ignored her. He wasn't prepared to be tackled by a nearly crimson Hyphokos as the bedroom door opened. Paymeh merged with him before Vathion could stop it, leaving the young Gilon to straighten his shirt and cut all mental connections out of spite. It only seemed fair. So what if he was being rude? Life is only going to get worse before it abruptly ends. Just like Natan's did.

In the hall, he self-consciously adjusted his belt and breathed a sigh at the bridge door directly ahead.

"Ha'Natan?" someone called from down the hall.

Vathion froze and turned to look. The crewwoman paled, hand covering her mouth.

"I am Ha'Vathion. Please introduce yourself?" Though he did vaguely recognize her from his perusal of the personnel files earlier.

Shocked, she stammered, "Ca'Hassi, second shift, Sir." She saluted.

Second shift communications officer. What was she doing up this early and heading out of a room on this level? Only the first shift had rooms here. Second and third were down a level. She was average-sized, middle-aged, with brown eyes and orange hair. Judging by the lines around her mouth, she probably had a pretty smile. Currently, she was frowning slightly.

Vathion nodded. "Carry on." He steeled himself and pushed forward, entering the bridge. If Ca'Hassi's reaction was any indication, today was probably going to be a long one.

Turning at the sound of the door opening, Ma'Gatas squawked in horror, "Ha'Natan?" He stepped away from the captain's chair and down to his own.

A Very long day, Vathion thought sourly.

Taking a moment to collect his nerves and temper, Vathion stared at Gatas before dropping into the captain's chair. "Wow. Good morning to you, too," Vathion said blandly.

Gatas frowned at him. "I wasn't expecting you."

Vathion crossed his legs, resting his wrists on his knee as he considered how to deal with the situation. Part of him wanted to shout at the man. "I suppose I should do a fleet-wide announcement." Not that he wanted to, but he did now own twelve old, beat-up battleships, which included around nineteen hundred officers and crew.

Ca'Bibbole cleared his throat. "Now, sir?" He was an average-sized Hyphokos, seated on the comms station with the touch screen resized for his comfort. He had an audio bug clipped to one of his long, flexible ears. Today, his shoulder-length hair was done in three braids, two falling in front of his ears and one straight down the back.

"May as well get it over with."

Vathion flicked his gaze over the stations on the bridge. His chair was set near the back, a short distance from the door. He had his own screen, which could access whatever station he chose to peek at, with a mini window logging all commands and feedback. To his direct right was the bridge office door, and beside it was the communications station where Ca'Bibbole was seated. Next to the comm station were weapons one and two with a pair of orange-haired women seated at them. Wo'Chira and Wo'Arih were obviously sisters. To their left was navigation, also manned by a dark-haired woman who had taken some liberties with the Fleet uniform and turned the boots and leggings into heels and a tiny skirt; Fae'Erekdra. To her left was the ship operations station where Li'Codas sat; from behind, he looked like a cucumber. Gatas' chair was in front of Vathion's and down a step, low enough for Vathion to see over the man's shoulder.

The room looked exactly the same as the bridge of his flagship on Battle Fleet. Natan had made the game himself. It had started out rough, but Natan had sent updates every year, improving it with every iteration and promotion Vathion had received. He'd started as a pilot on the Xarian and worked his way up to Admiral, doing every job on the ship for at least a few months.

Bibbole turned his diamond-shaped head back towards his screen, "Channel open, Ha'N- Vathion. Front screen."

Gatas stood to the side with his arms crossed on his thick chest, scowling. He was in full view of the camera Vathion was about to speak to.

Vathion stood, swallowing hard while his head was ducked. "Good day. I am Ha'Vathion, your new admiral." He paused, feeling nervous with everyone on the bridge watching him. He imagined hearing his voice echoing through the halls of the ship and nearly shivered. "I am Ha'Natan's son," he paused, thinking fast before he continued.

Confirming that Natan was dead would not be a good idea but it felt wrong to lie to his own crew. But there was no such thing as a secret amongst so many. All he could do was damage control.

Straightening his shoulders, Vathion lifted his chin, making his decision. "I'll keep this short. Ha'Natan felt it was time to test me and wanted the chance to visit my mother. I understand it's sudden, but we are talking about Natan." He shrugged, lifting his hands. "My father's greatest wish is to restore order and peace to our people, and I will carry on that goal to the best of my ability. Otherwise, he'd be rather upset with me." In a quick annoyed glance aside, Vathion continued, shifting his weight to drape a wrist over the hilt of his baton and the other thumb hooked in his belt. "So, in short, Ha'Natan is on vacation as of two days ago, and I will continue the fight!"

Figuring that he had said enough, Vathion nodded to Ca'Bibbole. The Hyphokos cut the broadcast.

Feeling drained, Vathion sat again. This was only the start of his problems, though. Word would get out soon. He had an entire school full of students and teachers back at home who knew nearly everything about him. How embarrassing.

Gatas gaped at him in horror. "You--you just lied to them!" He flung his arm out, to gesture wildly at nothing.

Vathion relaxed in his seat, then shifted to put his elbow on the arm of his chair to nibble his nail. "Yes, I did," he said blandly. "You people are the only ones who know Natan is dead, correct? Aside from Savon." To this, Erekdra, the navigator, nodded. "I'd like to keep it that way. You're hereby under gag orders."

Gatas gaped like a beached fish.

First thing was first. If Natan had been murdered, Vathion needed to figure out what he had been doing in Cargo Bay Four. Then, there was the matter of ensuring no one believed Natan was dead. The chaos would be catastrophic.

Well. Best to continue the lie he told the rest of the fleet. Sitting up, Vathion checked the screen at his right hand. Of his twelve ships, four were in dock. They were on alert, so while crew were on station leave, they could easily return to their ships and take off. The four currently in port were Cinnamon, Episode 34, Seven, and Cider. The other eight were stationed around the sector, watching for any signs of trouble.

"I want Cinnamon to switch with Xarian on patrol."

Gatas shook his head, "What? But Cinnamon is in dock."

Vathion nodded.

"You want us to dock?"

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Vathion nodded again. "Yes. That was my intention."

"We don't need to do that. We're fully supplied!" Ma'Gatas argued.

Eyes falling half-lidded, Vathion straightened. "Ma'Gatas." He held his temper by a thread. "Is there some reason why we can't put into dock for a day?"

For a moment, the second in command stared at him, opening and closing his mouth, then closed it and scowled. "Yes. We've got better things to do than let you sight-see."

Vathion eyed him. "Hardly sightseeing, Ma'Gatas, I've got things I need to do there. Quit arguing with me. Fae'Erekdra put us into port. Ca'Bibbole, if you'd send the messages?"

"Yes, sir." His officers followed orders, leaving Ma'Gatas to do all the bitching and whining.

Fae'Erekdra reported, "It will take an hour to dock."

Getting to his feet, Vathion glanced around, "I'll be in my office should anything happen that Ma'Gatas can't cover." He went to the bridge office and took a seat at the desk.

If he remembered correctly, there were some people he could call out in the Baelton sector who might have some information if the information from Battle Fleet could be trusted. Vathion had a feeling it could be. Everything else had been accurate so far. The only difference was the cartoony graphics. He shook his head, remembering how insistent his mother had been about his taking the game with him. He still needed to call her, but that would have to wait. He did not want to be teary-eyed in front of the people he needed to speak to.

For a moment, he sat staring at the blank screen. His hands automatically ran across the edge of the desk.

How many times had he seen this room from the other side? How many times had his father looked at him from this desk? This was not how he'd wanted to see the captain's office. Not how he'd envisioned getting to wear this uniform.

Not only was Natan dead, but his mother would pass from Mate Deprivation soon, and even Jathas was gone. The grief was an ever-present sting at the center of his ribs, inching up his throat.

Gritting his teeth, Vathion pressed his fingers to his eyes. No! He was not going to cry! He wasn't! He didn't have the luxury or right to. If I hadn't insisted on seeing him, then this... could've all been avoided. The ache got worse with that thought. It made him want to go down to medbay and crawl into the incinerator to join Jathas.

A noise on the desk beside him drew his attention. Looking over, he found a minibot carefully placing a glass of water on the desk from its flat back. That was... unusal.

Taking a breath, Vathion lowered his hand and straightened his jacket. The water was there, so he took a drink and collected himself.

"Kiti, call Pi'Xian. Usual precautions." He hoped the name was correct. The names of his bridge crew in the game had been optional, and he only knew the real crew's names because they were on the Show.

For a moment, the screen only showed the Call Connecting throbber. It stayed there long enough for Vathion to think Xian wasn't going to answer.

Finally, the face of a haggard man with scars appeared. The room behind him was dark, his face and shirtless torso only lit by the glow of the screen. "Who're you? Yer not Natan." The man lifted a hand towards the disconnect key.