Bantioc Don't Ask, Don't Tell

With the Bantioc Imperial Navy flying on a non-stop basis, shifts can last from days to weeks with all the officers and their CO's standing idly by their posts, staring or zoning out on their consoles while the chatter of the CIC mask the shuffling of the fleet admiral walking with the chief communications officer to a more private section.

"Chief, You know the Bantioc Naval Policies." Said the Flt. Admiral as he slid off his coat.

"Fleet Admiral, sir, I understand the rules and regulations to the punctuation, but this is something I ask-, no, beg of you to do, sir." Replied the Chief Comm Officer as he unbuckled his belt.

"... A word of this gets out, and you'll find yourself demoted to Cadet, on board the Refuse Ship Shard of Glory." Said the Flt. Admiral while slipping out from the last bits of his clothing.

"Sir, not a word, Fleet Admiral, sir." Whispered the officer, sniffing the musk of the commanding officer, waiting in desperate anticipation.