Timothy Bartholomew Delgado is not the one who throws open the double doors.  Instead, it's Aumento, Crab Conqueror, professional warrior, personal slayer of dozens of dungeons.  He strides in, eyes roaming over the dress uniforms of everyone.  He doesn't have a dress uniform, he's not a soldier per se.  Instead, he's wearing his standard dungeon loadout, minus the live ordnance.  His guns are oiled and cleaned, his vest is fresh, his pants can't be ironed but they're freshly cleaned and de-wrinkled.

He looks sharp.  It's not something you'd wear to parade ground, but it works for him if you like the conquering warlord look.

As he draws to the center and inspects them, the ten Dwarves not primary participants in the ceremony salute as one.

As one, they all bellow out.  "Sleeping Beauty!"

Aumento returns the salute.  "Dwarves!"

Then he turns and faces Sarah Riggs and James Griggs.  "Riggs.  Griggs."

"Sleeping Beauty!" is the response in unison.  Today, for this ceremony, they owe no salutes.  They have each of them striven to become the Better -iggs.  Only one of them can win this competition, and they have each of them done their best.

"By the power invested in me by the Mistress of the Sororal Order of the Dwarf, it is my pleasure to present the Better -iggs award.  You have both contested fairly, and labored mightily.  However, only one can be the winner."

They are still as stone.  At this point, it'll either be enough, or it won't.

"James Riggs, forward."  After James Riggs does so, Aumento retrieves the Better -iggs patch from Mary Williams' care.  Then he carefully presses it to the outer bicep of Riggs' uniform.  "You have won fairly.  But do not rest on your laurels, for glory is not earned forever.  It must be earned anew each month."

After James Riggs steps back, they exchange salutes.

And Aumento turns on his heel and strides out of the warehouse they'd commandeered for this ceremony.  He waits outside the door for a few minutes, and he's soon joined by the rest of the Dwarves.  Everyone's laughing, joking, grinning, and in the case of James Griggs and Sarah Riggs, boasting and promising to take the award next month respectfully.

It takes three autotaxis to fit the team, but Tim's promised everyone a steakhouse dinner.  The good stuff.  Arrakis is dead, and they can celebrate for one night before it's back to Humanity's war against the dungeons.

Later on, at the steakhouse, everyone's fed and watered.  The Mistress of the Sororital Order of the Dwarf stands up and clinks her fork against her glass.  "Alright, dwarves, listen up.  I got something for each of you.  We've been doing this thing for months now, and it's only fair that you get the recognition that you deserve.  Aumento and I have been planning this out, and Command has agreed."

That gets the room's attention.

"Everyone here has been trained and is trusted with incredible supernatural strength.  Every last one of us at the DRT are champions of humanity.  We put our lives on the line against unnatural monsters, impossible geometry, and worst of all, confused civilians.  But everyone at this table is a cut above.  Command has given me permission to design a patch, such that anyone can recognize us at a glance and know that we're able to be trusted with Aumento's power."

She pauses, makes eye contact with every person at the table.

"Therefore, allow me to present the newest addition to your uniforms."  And she hands out the chevron-shaped patch - a particularly Grumpy looking dwarf wearing full dungeon tactical gear.  At the top reads 'DRT', and the bottom reads 'AUMENTADA'.

"Aumento, don't feel left out.  We all know how you are about clothing, so I've arranged for some for you as well."  There was some snickering at the dwarf patch, but when Aumento is handed a stack of fifty patches with Sleeping Beauty on the center and  on 'AUMENTO' on the bottom?  It turns into howling laughter.

I love these goons.  He accepts the stack of patches with good grace, and only a little bit of embarrassment.  It's too funny to really be embarrassed about.  He makes a point of retrieving some DRT-grade duct tape from a pocket and affixing his patch to the arm of his outfit with it.  It won't last, but hey - if it falls off he has fifty more!

They don't go home just yet.  They're having a good time, and it's a good time to be wearing a DRT uniform in Canada.  They stay out, chat up the locals, and don't pay for their own drinks.  Arrakis was a fuck.  But thanks in part to their espers, it isn't one anymore.