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"Gentlewoofs, we're going to have to show these barbarians how it's done." Captain Timberwoof ran his claws through the fur on his head and face as he surveyed his officers as they assembled in the starship's conference room. Some of them had wry smiles that showed they knew Timber was up to something and he was about to let them all in on his plan. Timber grinned back, his canines somewhat dull with age, but gleaming white. Timberwoof thought for a moment about how to summarize his intent. "We're going to have to let them know that we possess overwhelming force but that we are reasonable; we're going to teach them a lesson in governance; and we're not taking no for an answer. "Everybody, pay attention to all the orders I'm about to give; you will have to know who to coordinate with on this." He paused a moment to let this sink in. "Quartermaster, break out some shinies from our trade goods. Doesn't matter what it is, just let it be shiny metal and delicate. Tools, tableware, knives, jewelry ... anything that will impress these medieval boffins. Just a couple of boxes, not our whole stock. You're in charge; borrow tablecloths and napkins from the galley if you have to. "Security officer, roust all your woofs and put them in battle armor. Officers, look shiny in your gear. Make an impressive honor guard for our guests. The operations officer will determine the location and the route. "Ops, pick a hangar or a large conference room--you know what's deployed where and can make the best choice. Survey your choices if you have to, but make a decision in ten minutes, ten tell everybody else so they can get set up. "Fencer, grab your fencing armor and mine and anybody else you can roust to help and make a nice display of it as a background. "Farnidel, you're our theater goer. You know how to stage a production. Set up a throne room in the compartment Ops picks out. Grab tables from the mess, put tablecloths on them. Get some nice chairs as thrones for me and my Betas. Set up a conference table on one side and a place for our musicians on the other. Tell them what's going on and have them pick out some kind of fanfare for our guests to march in with. No long discussions, just pick something, anything. "Luigi, cook up a small meal for me, my betas, and our guests--say a dozen seats. Simple, elegant, a wide variety just in case something is yucky to them--I'm sorry, I know you've never steered us wrong, that's why I want you to run this. "Fox, assemble a fighter squadron in their honor uniforms. Their job is to look impressive. They'll need chairs in the hall; work it out with the quartermaster. "Have I left anything out?" Farnidel raised a paw. "Farnidel." "Decorations, Sir. We need to have--" "Ask everybody with a family standard to send some members and their banner." "Banners, aye, Sir." Wilhemina raised a paw. "Healer." "Some of them may be injured and will need--" "Set it up." "Preparing for alien incoming casualties, Aye." "Anybody else? Any late ideas, bring them up to the appropriate department heads. If it's too late and will take too long to set up, then it can wait. We'll do it next time. On the double, make it so!"

The room erupted in a frenzy as officers and department heads pulled out their comm units and started talking to them, some simultaneously running for the conference room exits. Timber saw that everyone was either busy or out of the way. He started stripping his uniform shirt as he headed out the door and returned to his quarters followed by those of his betas who were not otherwise busy. "Omega, on the double, help us dress in our honor uniforms, then get in one yourself." "Aye, Timber." He ran to Timber's locker, extracted a full dress uniform, and placed it on Timber's bed, intimate items on top. "Codpiece, Sir?" "Codpiece! Brilliant! Codpieces for all the males!" Some of the betas grumbled. "Come on, you saw what some the officers were wearing. We'd better show them up." "Aye, captain. Codpiece it is." Timber stripped off his fatigues and dumped them in the hamper. All around him he heard noises of frenzied getting-dressed as he pulled on his shorts, shirt, pants with codpiece and short ceremonial tailsock. He pulled on a fine jacket. He stood in front of his mirror and fussed a bit, found himself wanting to reach for his weapon. "Daggers! Swords and daggers!" he shouted. "Aroo?" "They won't know what a handgun was until it bit them. But they do understand swords." "Hold still, Captain," said the omega as he appeared in Timber's cabin and began to fuss over the details. Timber took a moment to breathe and relax; there was nothing he could do now that would help, and any attempt to help would just interfere with his omega's job. "Right foot, Sir." He lifted his right foot and felt it being slipped into a stiff knee-boot. "Left foot, Sir." He lifted his left and it got the same treatment. He bent down to tighten the laces-- "Please let me, Sir. You relax." He sighed and knew his omega was right. He took a moment to visualize what he had ordered ... and reviewed his orders to see if he had left anything out. He was confident that his officers understood what was needed and were executing the plan. He raised his arms and let the omega adjust a flap here and line up a crease there, and drag a comb through Timber's fur on his head and face. Timber tried not to snarl at the grooming. Maybe when this was done he'd order everyone to the barber for short-short fur-cuts. "There. Now don't touch it!" Timber made to rush out of his cabin, but stopped to glance at himself in the mirror. He barely recognized himself in his splendiferous regalia--he paused, took a regal breath, and strode confidently out the cabin. His officers were frenetic in their efforts to get ready, but as he strode through the officers' area of the command-pack quarters they paused a moment. Seeing him seemed to add seriousness to their purpose. They slowed and became deliberate and careful ... which was fine by Timber. This was a job that could not be rushed. It just had to get done as fast as possible. And so he strode into the corridor, where junior officers were dashing back and forth. When they saw him they stopped in their tracks and saluted. Oh, he had never seen them so snappy. As he passed, he saw that his mood propagated and everyone around him became more deliberate in whatever they were doing. From a pocket he produced his datapad and called up the connection to his quartermaster. A face appeared, somewhat haggard and concerned. "Quartermaster here, Captain." "How are preparations coming?" he asked gently and with not a hint of impatience. Timber could see the quartermaster look around and scan progress in a cargo hold. "As well a can be expected, Sir." "Where are you setting up?" "Cargo Hold 1B. Here, I'll show you." The image on the data pad flipped from the disheveled quartermaster to the cargo hold. Some woofs were setting up tables as he had requested while others were setting decorations and gifts. For a hastily conceived plan, it was coming together well. "Very good," said Timber. "Carry on." "Carry on, Aye." The connection went dead. The quartermaster had work to do. Timber walked down the corridors to the cargo hold, trying to evoke in his mind the dignity of the admiralty of the old ocean-going sailing ships. His officers appeared by his sides one by one and were infected by his subdued tone. They slowed their pace to match his; he could feel them relax. They turned the corner and entered the hold. Controlled chaos was abuzz around them. The band leader must have seen them, for the band started playing a stately march tune. Someone yelled, "Captain on deck!" Crewmen turned to look at the senior officers, snapped to attention and saluted. Timber and his betas returned the salutes. "Carry on!" Everyone returned to what they were doing--setting up family standards, laying a table for a feast, another table with shinies. Armored security officers had set up an honor guard, with quartermasters in polished equipment loader exoskeletons behind them. They saw the Captain and his officers and somehow managed to stand even more perfectly at attention. Timber deliberately avoided the dinner table where a service was being laid so that the galley crew could continue their work. Everything else looked splendid--as splendid as could be called together in half an hour on an armed trading ship. He and his betas walked to the band and saw that they had got the word on what this was about. They were in finery that they had not displayed for his crew. He stood politely until the fanfare finished. "Excellent, excellent," Timber said to the band leader. "Thank you very much for contributing to this effort. You look and sound marvelous." "Thank you, Captain. You're preparing for some kind of royal visit?" "Yes, we are." "Thank you. I am in your debt." "No, Sir. Wait until we've pulled this off." Timber smiled. "Please keep playing," he said. "Something calm to ease the tension." "Aye, Captain." The band leader turned to his pack and spoke some words. They played a simple instrumental piece with a moderately strong rhythmical element and a light melody, some counterpoint mixed in to interest the ear. Timber nodded and turned to the throne. Someone had found something to build an elevated platform out of. On it stood some fine comfy chairs that had been borrowed from a lounge. Black naugahyde ones. Really? Naval banners hung behind and to either side. Timber recognized banners from sports teams and cadet squads. He grinned, knowing his guests would not. As Timber and his officers approached, Farnidel appeared with four of the security officers, lieutenants all. He dragged them by the hands to their places on either side of the thrones. "Your job tonight is stand and look impressive," Farnidel said. "Exude loyalty. Scare the shit out of these guys." Sly grins appeared on their furry faces, and they seemed more willing to be pushed around by the commander. Pleased with their positions, he turned to survey the hall. "Ah! Captain! Please sit." "Couches from the lounge?" Farnidel shrugged. "It's what I could scrounge in ten minutes. But they're all black and shiny, so they look like leather, and they'll disappear in all this finery, so it will be okay. The focus will be on you and the rest of us." Timber tilted his head and examined the dais. "Which one's mine?" "The one in the center, Sir." "Well, then, gentlewoofs." He looked at Farnidel and his other Betas, then strode to his throne, turned, and sat. His betas followed suit. One of the kitchen hands carrying a tray of silverware dropped it with a horrible crash that echoed in the cargo hold. He looked up at the Captain and his officers and blanched. He scrambled to pick up the mess and scattered some of the forks. "Shh-sh-sh-shshh," said Farnidel. "Take a breath. Collect yourself." The kitchen hand did as ordered, then calmly picked up the forks. Timber nodded and with his paws gestured to keep calm. He could see the kitchen hand relax and carry away the dropped silverware. Some of the other galley crew made "whew" faces but went on with their work. Chairs arrived and were carefully placed. Candlesticks were lit. The galley crew retreated. All around the hall activity ceased as the last preparations were completed. Timber leaned back in his throne and surveyed the scene. He looked at the band leader and nodded. The band alpha nodded in return, played a flourish on his guitar, and within a measure the music ended as though it had been written that way. Timber stood. "Crew of Tarkel's Glory, this is the most splendid presentation of finery I have ever had the privilege to witness. You look impressive as hell. I think we can pull this off. Let's take a few minutes to relax; they'll be here soon. At ease." Timber sat and everyone in the cargo hold relaxed. His datapad beeped. He pulled it out of its pocket; it was the communications officer. "Captain, comm. The party is on their way. They should be at the ramp within minutes." The executive officer stood and spoke, "Attention!" As one the crew snapped to. He nodded to the band leader, who began the fanfare. The honor guard were arranged so that the visiting party of locals had but one way to go: into the "throne room" of the visiting aliens' starship. They had round heads with manes and beards, flat faces featuring a prominent snout, tiny fig-like ears on the sides, and apparently hairless everywhere else but covered with leather and cloth armor. The alien soldiers looked about in awe at the various crew members in the room. One of them held a small pack of domesticated feral wolves, Timber thought, on leashes. They looked about and began to bark ferociously; their handler struggled to control them. He gave an order and the animals reluctantly sat at attention. Timber suppressed a smirk as the aliens looked with wide eyes at the big cargo loaders. They approached the throne to a position even with the closest row of chairs and knelt. Their leader, dressed in finery, with a shiny hat of metal on his head, approached the throne as far as the middle of the space between it and the front row of chairs. He removed his sword, sheathed, from his belt and laid it on the floor ahead of him. He pushed it forward a bit, then pull back his furless hands. Timber realized that he had not discussed a hint of protocol with his officers. They'd have to wing it. He looked at one of the security lieutenants and caught his eye. He nodded at the sword and really hoped the lieutenant would understand and go get it. The lieutenant nodded, stepped to the offered sword, picked it up and bowed to the king, then turned and brought it to Timber. Timber took it from him and nodded; the lieutenant returned to his place. Timber unsheathed the sword and examined it. It bore tool marks and engraving not dissimilar in technique to those on swords made just a few centuries before on his own planet. It had a pawful of encrusted jewels. He put the sword back in its sheath and stood up. He thought for a moment, then, carrying the sword, walked toward the king, still kneeling. He held the sword in is left paw and extended his right to the king, who hesitated, then gave him his right hand, naked, trembling. Timber gently closed his paw on it, then drew upwards, encouraging the king to stand. "Thank you for your gift," said Timber. "This is a thing of beauty. I can see that it means a great deal to you, that it is the symbol of your ancestors. And so: I have a gift for you." Timber handed the sword back to the king. "Take this sword from my paws as a sign of your leadership here, that I grant you to rule this kingdom as my baron for the good of ... my people. Come sup with me now." The king gratefully took his sword back, and awkwardly held it behind himself. A prince or somebody came up and took it back to the huddled group. Timber led the king and his entourage to the dinner table. He looked at his officers and gave what he hoped was a subtle "come here" gesture. They joined him on the other side. The king and his men seemed to know where to stand, king in the middle and his officers to either side. Timber and his did likewise. One of his junior officers made as if to sit, but someone poked him and he changed his mind, stood at attention. Timber looked the table up and down, saw that everything was good, and sat. The visiting king sat, and then everyone else sat. Timber got out his datapad and called up some photographs. "This is my pack lord and lady, and these are my littermates. This is from when we were in school." He showed the data pad to the king. "Tell me about your family." The king looked at the datapad and was amazed as much as that it showed pictures as what pictures it showed: more wolves, but these wolves were this alien king's brothers and sisters, and mother and father. "I have a wife," said the king. "She is at the castle. These two are my sons." He gestured to the warriors on either side of him. Up and down the table, his officers likewise showed family pictures to the members of the king's entourage. Luigi the cook approached the visiting king's junior officer at one end of the table and spoke quietly to him. Timber could not hear the conversation, but he could imagine it. "I know that our food will be alien and unusual to you. Take a small portion and see if you like it. If it's terrible, I won't be offended; just place it back in this bowl here, and I will know not to serve that. If you like it, take a bit more, and I'll offer it to others. Here, try this: ..." Timber counted on parallel biochemistry and evolution to make their food palatable to his guests, and Luigi had outdone himself in preparing a good variety, from bland oatmeal to spicy things that made Timber's eyes water. Soon the locals had discovered what they liked. They and his officers ate and shared introductory stories. The mood was right. Timber spoke to the king. "Your majesty, we have a proposal, one I'm certain you will accept."