Neptune's Massif by Ben Winston Page A

get mad and immediately work to either correct it, or adjust your tactics and strategy to compensate for it. No, we need you to undertake this mission for us, Shalo. None of the others will do as well as you.
    "We should also mention that you have been promoted, both in the military as well as in the noble listing. We have bestowed upon you the military rank of Fleet Admiral so you may perform your duty to us. However, the position also makes you our warden in this other galaxy. Because of the position, you must hold a rank no lower than Duke of the second circle. By making the two spoiled Hortes brats your wives, that allows us to assign you to the second circle, first tier of the nobility. From this day forward, you will be addressed as Lord Admiral, or Duke Caleb. Your immediate house will go with you. You will have to decide who to leave here to manage your affairs at court, and who you will take with you to manage your estates on Proferus Three," the Emperor explained.
    "Majesty, you honor me greatly, but such a promotion is far above my family’s station! I do not believe we have anyone suitable to represent us in court. We are a poor house, which is why I joined the military; we have little fluid capitol and few retainers. I do not think we could even hire anyone for the job," Shalo explained, trying to think his way through all the implications of this promotion. No one had ever been elevated so far in such a short period of time.
    "You have much more capital than you yet realize, Lord Admiral. As the warden for our new Galaxy, you receive the largest share of the profit gleaned in there. Come, there is much more that you will need to understand about your position. We have arranged for you to be briefed on your duties."
    "If I may, Majesty, what happened to the last force commander?" Shalo asked.
    Without turning to the new Admiral, the Emperor replied. "He surrendered to his fears and accepted his failure."
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    A RC Liaison Offices
    Pleiades One Orbital Shipyard
    High Orbit, Planet Atlas
    Centauri System, Sol Sector
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    A dmiral Ian Williams smiled at the mannerisms of the ARC admiral that had been the commander of the fleet sent to the Rataac sector. The man was an ass of the highest order, but hid it well. He was condescending toward any human that was Talosian, but respectful toward Terran humans. Ian wondered, not for the first time, how he could tell the difference.
    "All repairs are ahead of schedule, and our wounded will be returned to duty or at least to their own ships within the week," Fleet Admiral Broan T'rir said. "This is a truly amazing facility you have built here, Admiral. I would never have believed humans could achieve so much with so little in such a short amount of time. Servicing our entire fleet with only one station and still remaining ahead of schedule..." he shook his head. "I dare say that such a feat would not be possible even on an Alliance station."
    "We are happy to help, Admiral. You have done us a great service, and we felt it only right to do everything we could to assist you," Ian replied.
    The short, very muscular being nodded his acceptance of that comment. "I am most impressed with your Raptor Team Commandos. They are by far a superior fighting force. In all my experience I have never seen, nor heard of, such a small force single-handedly destroying or capturing an enemy capitol class ship. That is a most amazing feat."
    "Forgive me, Admiral, but I would have thought you to find their methods to be less than honorable," Ian asked.
    T'rir shook his head. "There is no dishonor in the exploitation of the weakness of a superior enemy. The dishonor is on the enemy for having them and not correcting them to begin with. I will be speaking to the Matriarch about this force of yours. Perhaps an agreement can be reached for us to learn these methods from you."
    "We would be honored to instruct your people, Admiral. In fact, we have designed