Friction
Admiral Chase and Swarmfather Retholis stepped through the lowered gate, out of the prisoner compound, and into the Green Zone. They, along with Retholis’ personal guard, headed towards his private gondola parked nearby.
“You really oughta stop taking me out like this,” said Admiral Chase. “You’re making it look like we’re arranging a political marriage between us.”
“That’s not a thing with you humans?” said Retholis. “What a shame. You could be doing yourselves a favor. Sometimes, the empire needs the stability afforded by them.”
“Well, they do happen, just with the corporations. They do it to seal alliances with each other, following ancient traditions or whatever bullshit. As if sharing blood ever stopped us from spilling it.”
“Sounds like you don’t approve.”
“Why? Does it work for the Drogar? How many political unions have resulted in less bloodshed? At least, for the people, rather than the rulers?”