It was just one of those days. There I was, about to be interviewed for the position as Mi’Olnr (commonly referred to as the Grand Armadian), and I had a whole pint of vorsetic on my uniform. I looked at the captain that had just spilled it. I could tell that he had thought I was someone else because his look of mortification was glued to my rank, Grand Admiral. I was the second-highest ranking officer in the entire Armada, and he had just spilled alcohol all over me.

My look obviously showed some disdain for what was going on because when he finally looked up at it, his face drained. “I’m s-s-so sorry, sir. I’ll c-clean that for you,” the captain stuttered. He was horrified. Surely, his career would be over. But I hadn’t the time for this.

“Nevermind cleaning it,” I said. “Just swap with me. I have important things to do.” At that time, I was glad I had voted towards standardized dress uniforms throughout the officer corps. All we had to do was switch name and rank. Everything else was on the cap we wore at all times but when directly addressing the Monarch. We finished the swap in one centiday.

When I finally got to the meeting, I was only 5 millidays early. As I had suspected, the Sheii’Cronell was already there, and he stared me down as if I had just murdered his mother. “Very nearly late, Admiral Khuda’Mundi.” I glared right back at the Oa’din of a man called Fargerre Sheii’Cronell. For a man who lived so highly according to impulse, he sure was quick to criticize similar behavior from others. Most of the Armada wished him dead, and I happened not to be missing from their ranks. It was a pity Sheii’Cronells were all but immortal.

Now that was an interesting thought to dwell on. I had always heard that particularl legend growing up on Osgord, but it wasn’t until I had seen Fargerre get shot down during the rebellion on Volur and come out of it all without a scratch after his seat ejected directly into an asteroid. His equipment had been destroyed, but somehow that Oa’din of a man had survived. Since that day, I had chosen not to question the other legends surrounding Sheii’Cronells.

“Now then, Admiral Khuda’Mundi,” the Sheii’Cronell spoke, breaking my train of thought and wrenching me back to reality. “I understand you were the first to captain a ship with a temporal manipulation drive system. What made you volunteer for what many considered a guaranteed suicide assignment?” His penetrating gaze set upon me again, but this time it contained something I’d never seen in him before: respect. This beast actually respected me for what had turned out to be the smartest gamble I had ever made in my career.

“Well, to be honest, at the time, I had just lost my wife and daughter to a mauling after a drig got out of its enclosure at the Osgord Zoo, and my son had just been declared missing in action on one of the outer planets. I didn’t really care if it was a suicide assignment or not. I had nothing to lose, and if the drive system worked, which it did, my career would benefit immensely. So I just put it in the Great One’s hands and said, ‘Why not?’” It was the truth. At the time, even I had doubted the system would work, but I would have welcomed a death at the time.

“Of course, much to everyone’s surprise, that system’s turned out to be the most reliable form of space travel we’ve ever used. Sure, it was dirty energy back then, and a few crewmembers died, but our methods have been perfected now, and you’ve reaped the benefits, haven’t you, Grand Admiral?” The Sheii’Cronell clearly hadn’t gotten the answer he was hoping for. No, he had wanted the heroic, valiant declaration of loyalty to the Armada so many a fresh Academy graduate spouted out like it was as natural as drinking from their mother’s teets as a babe.

But I had seen what the Armada really was. I wasn’t stupid. The Armada wasn’t defending anyone from anything. The travelers that had “given” us the TMDS had proven that. Even if we couldn’t translate what they had been transmitting, I had never seen such an obvious distress signal in my life. And the “missile” that had so heinously destroyed a passing cargo ship was revealed during a very hushed military investigation to be an escape pod. No, we were nothing more than the Monarch’s fist. When we had gone out to the travelers’ planet and started spouting out that crap about them being Murhan, I knew the only thing we existed for was to destroy anything that challenged the Monarch’s authority.

Which was why before returning home and personally escorting that stupid Sheii’Cronell beast to his puppet master’s palace, I had created a new ‘training protocol’ for new Valkyries: Monitor evolutionary progress on the nearby blue planet. All reports would be taken directly to Valkyrie Command, which was literally the only command in the Armada that didn’t report to the Monarch. The Valkyries had been trusted implicitly since their formation. And that was why I was the only person in this room that knew about the operation. The temporal misalignment caused by the Bifrost made for some very odd observations, as well. Already, twenty patrols had been sent out, reporting an overall passage of thousands of cycles’ time since the destruction of the travelers’ planet, and there were reports that a small ship of unknown origin had landed on the planet, depositing beings remarkably similar to ourselves.

So I smiled at the Oa’din’s face, feeling as though I was staring down Hikar’Diferus himself, and said, “So it would seem, Excellency. And I believe the 4-F Drig of which your new Drig Reidrs are so proud is based off the same technology. Hyping wouldn’t be possible on such small ships were it not for the TMDS, after all.” His eyes, always that shining red so distinctive of Sheii’Cronells, seemed to be tryi
ng to burn me alive at that comment. “What’s that saying of yours? Vega Lopt, isn’t it? I wonder why you seem so determined to kill the very sky in which you fly. Does your animal nature know no bounds?”

That was too far. The Sheii’Cronell’s hands slammed into the table, driving the metal down a good two fingers. He stood immediately, embarrassed at his own outburst. “We kill the sky itself because it gives the enemy nowhere to fly. Drigs don’t need a sky to fly. As you so aptly pointed out, the 4-F has a TMDS, which means it can hype, Grand Admiral. I’m done here. You’re lucky this interview was just a formality. Mi’Olnr Khuda’Cronell died in entry to Thor’s atmosphere last night when it collided with a rebel stealth bomber headed for Qzcivden. You’re the only man eligible for the job. Congratulations, Mi’Olnr Khuda’Mundi. You’ve got the job.” With that, he stormed out of the room.

The aged man who had been quietly observing the whole exchange slowly stood as well from his seat beside the Sheii’Cronell’s. “Please forgive my protege, Mi’Olnr. The previous Mi’Olnr was his brother. Today’s not been his best day.” It was then that I realized I was in the presence of the Monarch himself. I should have brought my repeater. But there was nothing that could be done. “I look forward to working with you, Mi’Olnr Khuda’Mundi. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”

“Of course, your Highness,” I managed to say, swiftly removing my cap to reveal my family’s characteristic green hair. Somehow, I had managed to hide all disdain in my voice, a miracle in and of itself, but the words that followed surprised even me. “It’s an honor to be in the company of one so great as his Majesty.” What was I saying? Was this that Oa’din’s powers at work, forcing me to fawn over him despite my hatred for him, or had I just become that successful a liar? When had that happened?

“Now, then, if you’ll excuse me, Mi’Olnr, I have many other matters to attend today. Good day, Mi’Olnr.” The Monarch turned and moved out of the room so elegantly he seemed to be gliding.

“Good day, your Highness,” I blurted out as he left. The doorway spun closed behind him. I pulled out my istringr and pulled up an old picture of my family, my wife’s gorgeous blue hair blowing in the long-gone breeze of that day. The screen’s light shone into my tear-filled eyes, and I managed to say quietly to my wife long dead and gone to Jal’din, “I’m sorry, my love.” I spent the next three centidays releasing the sick that had found its way to my stomach during that exchange with Hikar’Diferus’s own minions. May the Great One forgive me for what I’ve done in the name of that evil Monarch.