"You know things you should not, Prince James," the Sandeman said. "Do you claim life-debt now?"
"No." Medart grinned. "I would if I thought it were necessary, but the Sandemans I know would be curious enough to invite me to their ships, or to Sandeman itself, to talk about it."
"You wish to surrender?"
"Not hardly—but I will, if that's what it takes to get a chance to talk to you."
"I will have to consult the Warleader on that, Prince. In the meantime, I will have your ship brought aboard our cruiser—release your controls to our operators."
Medart did so, nodded. "You have control."
The Sandeman disappeared, his place taken by a view of space. A ship-image was growing, and Medart's sensors told him it was a big one—not quite as large as an IBC, but close. Shortly afterward, he felt the surge of tractor beam lock-on and the ship grew more quickly—fast enough he would have worried, if anyone but a Sandeman had been at the controls. With their reflex speed double that of the human standard norm, though, the speed of his approach was perfectly safe; as his ship was brought into the docking bay and landed, he double-checked his appearance.
He wasn't used to seeing himself in anything but uniform, since he spent so much time aboard Imperial Navy ships. But he'd worn similar clothing during the Mjolnir Conference, with the Sandemans there thinking it appropriate for his rank: silvery shirt, emerald-green pants, black uniform boots and equipment/weapons belt, topped by his green, silver-fringed arms baldric with his arms pin on the left shoulder. He'd worn his coronet as well, there, but that had been to distinguish him from the other Rangers he'd called in; he saw no reason to go to that extreme here.
Satisfied, he went to the airlock. As soon as the pressure equalized, he opened it and left the little ship, leaning against its hull with his arms crossed to wait for his hosts—or his captors.
Moments later the bay's inner lock cycled open and a small group of warriors approached him, the central one wearing honor-black. Medart straightened, then bowed and addressed that one. "I am Prince James Medart of the Empire in Alternate Alpha Prime. You do me honor, Warleader, wearing ceremonials. Am I prisoner, or guest?"