The Emperor's Sword

[Saikamercenarys]

Matome's mind began to wander once more, as the klaxon calls, crew scrambling about in an orderly fashion like a well-oiled machine. They were the heart of this ship, and he, the mind. A brilliance as he watched the show, like the dancers back home in Kusari, their routine and motivation all blended into one organic organism. Each man knowing his job, knowing how to perfectly execute each movement exactly when it needed to be finished. Gunner's eyes trained, and now having been tested for years, like an eagle. Engineers watching the various status reports, making minor adjustments, and sending the "All-clear" codes up the command chain to the bridge. The younger members of the crew ferrying various supplies to and fro, in mock of what they would be doing had actual combat been happening. Security teams waiting in various locations of the ship, tactically placed to repulse any attempts at boarding the ship.

Breathing in deeply he closed his eyes for a moment, a euphoric sense of satisfaction coming over him. They were ready, they always had been. Relentless drills had made them the perfect fighting machine. His, perfect fighting machine. Their loyalty would never be questioned, each of them true sons of Kusari, Imperialists to the end. His hand-selection for this and his flagship's crew had paid off. Then. Silence.

"Docking port one has been accessed. The ship is docked, the Emperor will be boarding the ship momentarily."

Matome nodded to the others in the bridge-room as they made their way to the now-cleared-out cargo bay where they would be awaiting Emperor Jien Kogen's fleet visitation and planning. He let himself a smile, as the airlock carefully opened and a ramp slowly extended out.

This... was the moment he had been awaiting.

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