portfront shopkeeper on any one of a thousand planets.
He was of average height, and he grimaced as the reflection reminded him that his stocky, muscular body was beginning to sag. His centimeter-long black hair failed to conceal the tinges of gray at the temples. Kas closed his eyes resignedly, then forced them open again as he remembered the original purpose of this self-examination. No obvious nervous twitches. Good. He glumly regarded the reflection. He hoped his appearance wasn’t prophetic. In a few minutes, his twenty-six-year career in the Imperial Fleet could end in disgrace, and he could be on his way to becoming the port shopkeeper he so resembled. He shuddered. He clung desperately to the thought that if the grand admiral wanted him out of the fleet, he could simply have allowed Kas’ court martial to continue. No, for some reason Pankin had intervened. He must have something other than disgrace in mind for Kas. He took another deep breath.
“You may go in, Captain.” The voice of the aide manning the desk behind him made Kas jump involuntarily. Summoning his courage, Kas knocked on the real wood door. The door slid aside, and he entered the office. The man behind the cluttered desk — more real wood — was hardly impressive. Past middle age, he seemed average in height, though broad of shoulder. His salt-and-pepper hair, thinning and trimmed somewhat shorter than the current fashion, did not impress. But when he raised his eyes, his power and authority were unquestionable. Kas felt as though those piercing, steel-gray eyes could see through his uniform and reveal the naked man beneath. He froze at a strict attention.
Pankin regarded Kas silently for a moment, and then permitted himself a thin half-smile. “Well,” he said, “The infamous Captain Kas Preslin, pirate-buster and assaulter of admirals.” The half-smile faded. “Don’t worry Captain. You’re not in trouble. Yet.”
The final word insured that Kas remained ramrod straight.
Pankin’s smile widened became more genuine. “At ease, Captain. Have a seat. We have little time and much to discuss.” Kas paused uncertainly before moving to the chair the Grand Admiral had indicated. At Pankin’s barely perceptible nod he sat.
Again Pankin regarded him silently for a moment as the smile faded and his face relaxed, became expressionless. “It seems your superiors didn’t like you much even before you attacked your admiral, Captain.”
Kas was regaining his equilibrium. If Pankin was going to have him shot he doubted the grand admiral would invite him to sit and relax. Still he winced at Pankin’s comment. “No, sir.” Adding anything to his reply would be to court disaster. One does not criticize one’s seniors to the man most senior of all.
Pankin’s stony expression relaxed. “In this room I insist that I and my visitors be candid,” Pankin said. “And to be candid, I wish I’d been able to witness your… ah… discussion with that imbecile Lu-Jenks. Outside this room you didn’t hear that, and I didn’t say it. If I hear otherwise, you’ll wish you’d never been born. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” Kas waited.
The grand admiral stared at him for a moment. “I would not recommend repeating your little escapade. I went to more than a little trouble to keep you out of a penal colony. Naturally, most of the flag officers in the Fleet wanted to hang, draw, and quarter you.” He grimaced, and continued, “Parade officers! They couldn’t lead a Bithra to water.”
Astonishment curbed Kas’ tongue.
“As I was saying,” Pankin continued, “your superiors never liked you much. Why do you think that is, Captain?”
Kas suppressed a flash of resentment and curbed his tongue. “For one thing sir, I’m an outerworlder. It’s fashionable in the fleet to be from a good innerworld family. For another, well, I don’t always do things the way the book prescribes.”
Pankin scowled. “You mean you’re a smartass who thinks he knows better than his superiors and likes to throw the book out the hatch.”
“That’s not exactly how I’d put it, sir. It’s just that I tend to react to situations without consulting the book. Then later, I find out that I’m in trouble… again.”
The scowl faded and Pankin chuckled. “A nice way of saying you like to use your imagination and to Sheol with the book!” He sobered. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’ve been teasing you a bit. I’m going to tell you some things, and maybe even give you some advice, then I’m going to give you what may be the most important mission of your career.”
Kas straightened and leaned forward. A mission? Maybe a ship? His thoughts almost made him miss Pankin’s next words.
“As I said Captain, inside this room I insist upon honesty. I estimate that within ten standard years we will be at war with someone.”
Kas startled. “Who?”
Pankin grimaced. “I don’t know yet. There are now nine governments in settled space. It could be one or more of the independent systems or that disgusting tyranny calling itself ‘the Mission for the Greater Glory of God’. I pray it won’t be the Alliance.”
Kas shifted in his seat. “I have some very good friends in the Alliance Navy, sir.”
Pankin nodded. “We all do, and I’ll come back to that in a few moments. First it is a fact that we’ll be fighting within ten years. You know, of course, that the empire is in decline, and will probably fall within two centuries.”
Kas’ jaw dropped in shock. He stared, speechless as the commander in chief of the empire fleet calmly predicted the fall of the empire.
Pankin smiled a bitter smile. “Come, Captain, don’t tell me you hadn’t reached the same conclusion. It’s even beginning to penetrate the thick skulls of some of our denser senators.”
Kas frowned. He had long ago noticed the empire’s decline. He felt he was doing his part to slow the fall and the end of civilization by sticking with the fleet despite the harassment and his own growing cynicism. “Yes, sir,” he replied softly, “I just assumed that no one here on Prime realized it.”
Pankin idly toyed with a stylus on the desk. “For the last century the emperors have struggled to both hold back the tide and plan for the inevitable. His Imperial Highness and I have been doing what we could to postpone the fall while we concealed the fact from the senate. The decline is now so pronounced even the stupid and venal are beginning to notice. When it becomes obvious they will demand at the top of their lungs that the Emperor do something. To them, that means doing something military.”
He rose and began pacing. “I seriously doubt it will take ten years. At any rate, when it happens, we mustn’t lose. If we lose, the fall could be immediate and catastrophic. Right now, the strategic comps say that if we fought the Alliance we’d lose despite our Fleet being more than twice as large as theirs.” He stopped and turned to Kas. “We’re too rigid. The only technology we have that’s not obsolete is what we’ve bought from the Alliance. Worse, our officer corps is dominated by hidebound, parade ground officers.” He stopped and turned to Kas with a grim smile. “You don’t disagree, I trust?”
Kas’ answering smile was slight but genuine. Commander in Chief or not, he was coming to like Pankin. “No, sir. I can’t disagree.” He sobered. “But since the empire sells commissions it’s inevitable. The fleet has become a dumping ground for the lazy and incompetents from wealthy families throughout the empire. It's also inevitable that those families would have the power and crowns to get them promotions and plum assignments.”
Pankin slid back behind the desk, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. The Emperor and I have been working on policy changes. Next month his Imperial Highness will issue a proclamation officially ending the policy of selling commissions. It’s taken us a long time to make sure we could control the backlash. Now we have enough support to force it through the senate. More and more senior officers will also be finding retirement in their best interest.”
He leaned forward on his elbows and his gaze became intense. “Several months ago I began reviewing the records of every officer in the fleet above the rank of Lieutenant. I’ve made two lists: a list of sycophants and political book officers that I’m encouraging to retire or resign. Those that won’t will find a career in the fleet no longer fits their lifestyle.
“The other list is shorter; those officers I think are competent and effective.” He snickered. “They also tend to be the ones the parade ground admirals don’t like. Their fitness reports frequently mention things like ‘lack of respect’, or ‘lack of polish’” He flashed a sardonic grin. “Would you care to guess which list features your name?”
Kas’s answered Pankin’s grin with his own. A fleet unhampered by the incompetents and sycophants that had controlled it for years. An opportunity for the fleet to become as expert as the Alliance navy. Wonderful! He
