The Admiral and the Assistant

Kinnit the Kobold stood tall, a tiny, proud smile pressing itself onto her face in spite of her efforts to suppress it. She was on her way to check in for her new assignment.

The lift she rode glowed with soft, comforting light, making a pulsing hum as it carried her through the superstructure of the ISS Swordheart, pride of the Imperial Navy.

She shifted from foot to foot in excitement, but forced herself to stop: she was a Naval Assistant, not some fresh-faced goob from the back end of the galaxy. She would be calm, professional, dignified. Not vibrating like an arc over reactor coils.

The journey here had been long: from the forests of her home planet of Takkar, to the Academy, to the outer reaches of space. She'd first been assigned to Captain Hawkins, and now after only one year in service, she was being assigned to the highest post an Assistant could dream of.

The heart of the Ninth Fleet, the sharp spear of the Navy, reporting directly to the office of the great Admiral Grimthorn Stonefist, hero of Arcturus, sword arm of the Emperor.

It was all she could do to keep from hyperventilating.

The lift slowed, and with a gentle "ding" the doors slid open. She stepped out into the steel hallway. Bustling people of every species flowed by, brisk and professional, each one carrying out their own important errand. The hall was broad, clean, and well-lit. The conduits, though still visible, were tidy, well-organized, and tucked up near the ceiling out of the way. The cool, dry air, as it did on all ships, smelled faintly of machine oil.

She strode forward, arms swinging, heart swelling with pride. Though she only came chest-high to most others, she walked with the confidence of a giant Jovian.

This was it. Here, now, she would unlock her people, free them from isolation on their planet. Soon the Kobolds would be free to explore the galaxy alongside the great species.

She fingered the slim golden collar bound to her throat. As one of the Subject Species of the Imperium, she was required to wear the collar fused to her flesh, to keep her out of sensitive areas. Every Subject Species that wanted to explore off their planet had one. The collars, and the complications of summoning one of those creepy Cryptographers any time access was needed kept the Subject Species off the most interesting ships and planets.

She felt it was her great honor and a mark of pride in her quality work to be so trusted. And if she proved herself-- proved her species worthy, all her kind could roam the galaxy without collars, Cryptographers or constraints.

She came to an imposing door. Her smile dimmed as she stood before it, the crowd absently parting around her as it swept by. It wasn't ornate or ominous or distinct; it looked like every other door in the hallway, but it loomed because of all it represented. Her new life, her people, and her success.

Finally, finally, she would be good enough.

Her heart beat double time, giving lie to her stilled features. A grin forced its way back onto her face as pulled out her scanner and held it in front of the door. It bleeped, and displayed a brief message.

Adm. Grimthorn Stonefist, Office

She nearly cackled. Such modesty was almost insulting, coming from the greatest military mind to ever grace the galaxy.

She reached out and touched the panel switch, her stomach flip-flopping as she prepared to meet her hero.

The door hissed open and she stepped forward, more rigidly awkward than she wanted, but her knees weren't taking orders from her hyperactive brain.

And she entered her future.

The office was spacious. There was a file bank against one wall, and a kitchenette against the other. A small conference table sat to one side, and behind the desk a grand portal showing the stars. Not a real portal, naturally. It would be ridiculously dangerous to punch a hole in the side of a ship just to look through. It was a crystal projector that showed a perfect rendition of what was outside.

The desk itself was wide enough for three people to use. It had the requisite console, and was covered with untidy piles of slips: an old form of data where letters were imprinted on thin sheets of plastic.

The admiral himself sat behind his desk. Even through the stars crowding her eyes, the first impression that she had of him was that he looked so very, very tired; not just sleepy, but crushed in spirit, weary of his existence.

He also looked older than all the holos she'd ever seen of him. That made sense, most of the promotions used images of him from right after he'd saved Arcturus. He'd have been in his twenties, then. Now he was in his forties, and he wore the years heavily. The scars on his face were both fainter and more numerous than she'd expected after seeing so many of his pictures.

And yet! Commander of the Ninth Fleet! The brain of the ISS Swordheart!

She snapped a salute so crisp she nearly sprained her wrist and opened her mouth to report for duty.

"Refugee intake is on level four," he said, barely looking up. "Take the lift down the hall, someone there will help you."

She froze with her mouth open. Refugee?! She looked down at her crisp, new, powder-blue uniform with the gold piping. She'd spent three days making sure she was perfectly squared away. She'd even polished her horns! Refugee?!

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She re-saluted and tried again.

"N-no, sir, I'm--"

He looked up and his brow creased.

"Wait, you shouldn't be able to get in here," he said. "How did you get in here?"

"Sir, I've been assi--"

"Maybe a defective collar? I'll contact a Cryptographer, fix that up."

"SIR, I'M YOUR NEW ASSISTANT!" she yelled. Breathing heavily, she re-saluted shakily. "Kinnit, Naval Assistant, First Class, reporting for duty. Sir."

His brows drew down, and his face hardened.

"Excuse me?"

She tried to regain her equanimity, with limited success. Her voice wavered and she was already sweating.

This was not going as she'd hoped.

"I'm Kinnit, sir? I've been assigned to you as your new Assistant, sir?"

He stood slowly, his face set. In spite of his thicker middle and thinner hair, he was still toweringly tall, with broad shoulders and a poised bearing. He walked over to her with the confident grace of a lifelong military man.

She rigidly held her salute as he circled her once with measured deliberation, staring down at her with a piercing gaze that was far from friendly. He stopped in front of her.

"What are you?"

"S-sir?"

"Species. What species are you? Some kind of lizardman or goblin or something?"

She bristled.

"K-Kobold, sir! Subject Species A4N2, designated parva sapiens."

He straightened.

"And you've been... cleared for this duty?"

Kinnit stiffened. That hadn't been quite as insulting as being called a refugee or a lizardman. Her face stilled as she answered.

"I have graduated from the Naval Academy with honors and passed a full mental, psychological, and social evaluation. I've undergone a Level 7 security review, and I'm authorized to access classified information through Diamond classification. If you review my files, I'm sure you will find all the relevant details. Sir."

"Hm. And your Naval Academy application--"

"Was accepted purely on merit, sir, without any consideration of my species."

He raised an eyebrow.

"And you're running close to insubordination already. Where are your orders?"

She fished her scanner out of her pocket, blipped up her orders and held them out to him, still holding her salute. He took her scanner and looked through the documentation.

"At ease," he said as he read. She dropped the salute and clasped her hands behind her, but did not relax a single micron. He wandered back to his desk, his eyes riveted to the scanner.

At long last, he sank into his chair. The weight of his weariness pressed him down until he looked twice his age. He slammed a fist onto his desk.

"The orders are valid. Typical CenCom fubar," he muttered. "I asked for an Assistant, not a Subject Species pity-hire. I need help, not another project."

Kinnit stared diligently into the distance. Admiral Stonefist stood and paced with restless energy as he thought.

"Very well," he said. "You're an Assistant, right? Can you take dictation? You know how to read and write?"

"Yes, sir, I'm quite capable of taking dictation," she said coldly.

"Take a message for Commander Ordren at Central Command."

Kinnit glanced around. The only console was on Admiral Grimthorn's desk, and he still had her scanner. She stepped around his desk and pulled up a new message, addressing it appropriately.

"Ready, sir."

He faced the portal and gazed into the depths of the stars as he spoke.

"Subject: Assistant. Message: Commander, with all due respect, whiskey tango foxtrot? What is this garbage CenCom saddled me with? Please perform a rectal craniectomy post haste and send me a qualified Assistant. Stop with the stupid games. Kindest regards, take a walk naked out an airlock, etc."

Kinnit's eyes filled with tears as her spirit was crushed. Her fingers flew across the keypad in time with his speaking. She kept her face firm and refused to let any tears fall.

"Did you get all that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Read it back."

"Dear Commander Ordren," she read stiffly, "I hope this correspondence finds you well. I would like to raise a concern about the recent Assistant assignment. I feel that Central Command's selection was not fully considered. I would like to request a review of your selection with an eye toward replacement. Kindest regards, Grimthorn Stonefist, Admiral, Ninth Fleet."

Admiral Grimthorn glared at her. She stared levelly back at him.

"I took the liberty of adjusting the tone of the correspondence," she said.

Admiral Grimthorn held her gaze for a long moment, then unexpectedly burst into laughter.

"If I sent that, I'd catch a psychiatric discharge," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "If anybody even believed I wrote it." He sat back in his chair.

She didn't respond, only stood ramrod-straight.

"But that shows good instincts. Protecting your officer from himself."

He looked at her.

"Delete that message."

"Yes, sir."

She swiped the message away and stepped back from the console.

Admiral Grimthorn picked her scanner and started going through her transfer order. His eyebrows rose.

"You served under Captain Hawkins?" he asked.

"Yes sir. He recommended me for this commission."

Admiral Grimthorn stared at her for a long minute, his expression unreadable.

"Did he, now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, isn't that just like him?"

He stared at her.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Sir, I was assigned to your office by Central Comm--"

"No, no, I mean why are you doing this? Why join the Navy? Why leave your planet? Why not just stay home and enjoy life? Skip all this bureaucratic nonsense?"

"Respectfully, sir, I don't think you'd understand."

"Try me. Speak freely."

She paused, debating. But even if she was woefully underqualified, even if she was thrown out of the Navy by her own hero, she at least had to be honest.

"Before Imperial contact, when I was growing up," she started slowly, "I used to stare at the night sky. I could name every constellation, every planet and star. I loved the thought of traveling among them. I loved stories of hopping the galaxy."

Kinnit took a deep breath.

"But it was all a fantasy. We couldn't even reach our own moon, much less the stars. And when the famine came, we started to starve. I was the youngest adult, and I was the only one of my Clamber still alive when the Imperium came."

Her stance softened, and her eyes shone.

"It was magical," she said. She closed her eyes against the tears. "All I had ever dreamed of, all I'd ever imagined beyond hope walked out to us under a diplomatic banner. And it has been everything I have ever wanted. Every minute. Even this one."

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"All I want-- all I have in life is the Imperium. Labor, Honor, Gloria. Work, Honor, and Glory."

She saluted fiercely.

"All hail the Imperium," she said.

He looked at her with that black-hole-heavy weariness of spirit. He waved a half-hearted salute back at her.

"All hail," he said.

He sighed.

"You remind me of someone who was also once young, idealistic and zealous. And an idiot."

He stood and gave her a full and careful salute.

"Welcome to my office, Assistant Kinnit."