Hailing frequency open, the visual flickers a bit and then resolves into an unexpected image.  The 'matriarch', for starters, looks a bit younger than expected.  Maybe old enough to cross the street by herself without a nursemaid holding her paw.  And she's striped rather than spotted.  That's important for some reason.  But she's still wearing the pseudo-Roman-esque armor favored by the Wracks, and it's been tailored for her by the close fit, so this isn't some kid playing dress-up in Mommy's uniform.  She's cute, for a Hyena, and sits with plenty of poise and dignity upon the traditional Captain's Chair as if it is some sort of throne.<br/><br/>Also, there's a male standing beside her.  That's odd.  What's even more odd is that he's in a regular naval officer's duty dress uniform.  Wracks don't<em>have</em>male officers.  Except of course for that one guy that one time ages ago that became legendary because of it.  Unless what everyone knows happens to be a wee bit wrong.<br/><br/>The girl's voice is high, breathy, surprisingly steady as she recites what is no doubt a well rehearsed opening gambit.  She even manages to look a little bit menacing into the bargain.<br/><br/>"This is Her Little Excellency Lady Ekatrina Cassandra Fisi Grrsn in command of<em>Grand Duchess Penthiselia</em>.  You have entered controlled space.  Heave to and prepare to be boarded.  As you are not TESLA, you are likely to be permitted to go on your way after inspection."<br/><br/>The male officer covers a discrete cough with his fist, bends down to whisper in her ear.  The girl pouts.<br/><br/>"Oh, very well, Number One...<em>and</em>you are invited to tea while the inspection is carried out.  If there is anything you wish to declare, do so now."