Inside Leviathan One's biological chamber, ghostly blue energy conduits flickered along the walls like blood vessels, illuminating the two hundred crew members.
They were fully equipped, at full strength, and brimming with morale.
But the atmosphere was hardly harmonious.
On the left, Ola's fifty knights wore full suits of armor. Even strapped into their seats, their backs were as straight as javelins.
On the right, Sea Wolf's fifty sailors were an entirely different sight.
They lounged in all manner of poses, some crossing their legs, others huddling together and silently mouthing filthy jokes.
Worse still, one of them had pulled off his Hive Terminal and was playing with it in his hand, trying to feed it a potato.
The two groups were distinctly separate, as though an invisible wall stood between them.
Sea Wolf's gaze swept back and forth several times between his laid-back crew and the "tin cans" opposite them, and an inexplicable fury rushed to his head.
He strode up beneath the command platform and opened fire on Ola, who stood there as well.
"Hey, shorty! Did you bring a bunch of iron statues? Anyone who didn't know better would think His Lordship was holding an armor exhibition in this thing's belly! We're going to war, not competing over whose shell shines brightest!"
Ola's face turned purple with rage, his carefully braided beard trembling.
"Sea Wolf! I'm warning you, call me shorty again and I'll shove you out through this monster's asshole!"
He roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "My knights are warriors! Not those lazy saltwater dogs of yours who can't even stand in formation!"
"Ha! Warriors?" Sea Wolf laughed theatrically, pointing at the knights.
"A bunch of land turtles carrying iron shells! They can't even keep their footing aboard a ship, and they call themselves