The Admiral and the Assistant

Captain Stonefist strode through the halls of Central Command, a look of fierce determination on his face. Functionaries and pencil pushers stepped quickly aside as he marched down the middle of the hallway.

He reached an office door, twisted the handle and walked in.

A fat, dumpy man sat behind the desk, with only a fringe of hair clinging to his skull. What he lacked on his pate, he made up for on his lip, as he sported a huge handlebar mustache. A small name plaque on his desk read "Commander Adar Folstock."

Captain Stonefist stood in the dead center of the office, ramrod-straight, and saluted so perfectly that you could have used he forearm as a carpenter's level.

"Captain Stonefist, reporting as ordered," he said stiffly.

"Captain," Folstock said wearily. "You don't need to be so formal."

Captain Stonefist ripped the salute sharply enough to slice steel.

"As you say, sir."

Commander Folstock sighed.

"Fine, then. Report, please."

Grimthorn stood at rest in a way that did not look at all restful, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Pirate activity in the Vov system has been eliminated. The people of Zolla are safe."

Commander Folstock raised his eyebrows, waiting a moment to see if more was forthcoming.

"Well, whatever else people may say about you, you've definitely mastered the art of terseness," Folstock said. "What of reports that the pirates were splitting into factions?"

"They can't have factions when they're all dead, sir."

"Okay, great. Fine." Commander Folstock waved a dismissive hand at Grimthorn. "Anything else to report?"

"No, sir."

Commander Folstock's brow drew down in concern.

"Well, then. I've got a new mission for you, Captain."

Captain Stonefist saluted.

"I stand ready to serve the Imperium, sir."

"I bet. Now I need you to listen carefully, because this one is going to different from your usual missions."

Captain Stonefist stood in the docking bay of the ISS Starforge. His face was still, unreadable as the freshly-landed shuttle powered down.

He carefully managed his emotions. This was going to be new territory for him.

Commander Folstock had assigned him to assist with a mission for Naval Intelligence.

Captain Stonefist tried to imagine what a NavInt operative would look like. He'd spent his young adulthood watching spy holos, like many Imperials. In them, honorable operatives nobly struggled to protect the Imperium while holding to their personal code of honor. They were represented as lean, clean, and keen. Sharp and deadly.

The holos surely exaggerated the capabilities of NavInt operatives, but Captain Stonefist was curious to see just how deadly they really were.

The shuttle finally finished shutdown procedures. The hatch opened. Grimthorn straightened and saluted.

"Welcome aboard the ISS Starforge, operative," he said. "I am Captain Stonefist of the Third Fleet. I--" Grimthorn paused.

The figure that shuffled out of the shuttle was nothing like he'd expected.

A short, bulky, badger-like Duroclade strolled up to him. He was covered in coarse black fur, with two white stripes running up his long, pointed face and down his back. He was dressed in a rumpled tan trench coat, with stained jeans and no shirt.

He looked up at Captain Stonefist with an unreadable gaze.

"You're my assistance, huh?" the Duroclade asked. "I have a question for you, Captain."

"Of course," Captain Stonefist said, holding the salute.

"Do they put the stick in your butt when you graduate from the Academy, or does it come pre-installed from the factory?"

Captain Stonefist's face dropped open in shock. His brain hard-locked as he tried to think of what to say.

"It's called a 'joke,' Captain," the Duroclade said. "It's a thing they have outside the Navy. I've tried introducing the technology to the fleets, but it's been slow going." He held out a clawed hand. "Name's Dass Gunstar."

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Grimthorn slowly took the Duroclade's hand. It was like shaking hands with a fistful of knife blades. He shook himself, trying to get his brain back on track.

"It... is a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to review the mission parameters?"

Dass shrugged.

"That can wait," he said. He planted his hands on his hips and looked around. "Where's the mess hall? You guys do a good stew? I was on the Pilum Magnus a few years back, they had an amazing stew."

"You, uh... I don't know. You're welcome to make use of the ship's, uh, amenities."

"Look, just point me to where I can get coffee and food. The last meal I had was in a funky little spaceport downplanet, and I don't need to tell you what that was like."

Captain Stonefist lowered his salute.

"I'll... escort you. Perhaps we can discuss some non-sensitive aspects of the mission on the way."

"Ugh. Guys like you are enough to put me off my feed. Can we leave the mission aside for a minute? It's somewhere in the western major spiral arm is all I know."

"Drides System," Grimthorn clarified.

"See this? This is me actively forgetting what you just said. Because I still don't have food or coffee."

Grimthorn's face stiffened.

"Well, by all means, let's get you some quality Navy food," he growled. He spun on his heel and marched out of the docking bay. Dass schluffed after him.

After a stint in the mess hall, they found themselves sitting in Captain Stonefist's cramped office.

"Okay, it wasn't stew," Dass said, "but doggone if that wasn't the finest Salisbury steak I've had in a long time. You Navy guys treat your guts well."

Captain Stonefist bit back an unhelpful reply.

"Are you ready to discuss the mission?"

"Jeez, yes, please, let's talk all about it. For crying out loud. You Navy guys are like weaponized monomania."

Captain Stonefist cleared his throat.

"Now. We're to transport you to the Drides System. The planet Driedes II, specifically. We'll take you downplanet and transport you back once your mission's done. We'll stand by, ready to give you emergency exfiltration if things go wrong."

"Okay, sure, sounds good." Dass waved dismissively.

"Am I cleared to know any of your mission parameters?" Grimthorn asked. "It will help us prepare for the worst, but I fully understand if that's confidential information."

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess I should tell you all that, since you're coming with me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Didn't Folstock tell you? I need a Navy guy downplanet with me for this mission. You'll be perfect."

"Nobody told me anything about this."

"Yeah, probably because I just made it up. But it'll work out. Besides, you look like you could stand to spend some time off a ship. Fresh air and sunshine. Whatever it is you Terrans need."

"Hold on, hold on. Does that fit in with your mission plan?"

"Plan?"

Captain Stonefist's teeth clenched.

"You cannot seriously expect me to believe you don't have a plan. Isn't your job incredibly dangerous?"

Dass shrugged.

"Probably."

"Doesn't the fate of the Imperium hang on your mission?"

"Doubtful."

"Don't you care about the quality of your work?"

"Not even in the slightest."

Grimthorn slapped an open palm on his desk hard enough to tumble an untidy pile of slips onto the floor.

"Well it's good to see you bring the same care and attention to your work that you do to your personal appearance," he barked.

"Hey, wow, there's actually a personality under all that crust."

"What makes you think, firstly, that you need my assistance downplanet, and secondly, that I'll agree to come along?"

Dass mugged a long face and took on a mockingly serious tone.

"Uh, you'll be downplanet because I'll need somebody on hand who's had their sense of humor surgically removed. And I think you'll come along because in my mission parameters from Commander Folstock, it states that I have full discretion over the ISS Starforge and all her crew. That includes you. So if I want you to dress in a purple rubber clown suit and parachute into vat of whipped cream, your only question should be whether the clown suit has polka dots or stripes."

Captain Stonefist's mouth nearly disappeared in a thin line.

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to talk about mission parameters," Dass said.

"Very well," Grimthorn said, hoarse with fury. "What is the mission?"

"I don't know. Something about somebody stealing stuff from the Navy. We'll figure it out."

"I'm sorry, have you ever actually done this work before?"

"A time or two. Are you ready?"

"What, right now?"

"You want to wait? What for?"

"We need to make a plan!"

Dass leaned forward.

"I'll tell you a secret about plans. They don't work. Circumstances change. If you're locked into a plan you're gonna get skinned. Just go in with an idea and be flexible."

He looked Captain Stonefist up and down.

"And my idea right now starts with you getting out of that uniform."

Dass strutted down the street of the city of Grover, smiling and nodding at people he passed. He waved at random passersby, looking as though he'd been born and raised in Grover.

Grimthorn followed behind him, his face stormy. He was dressed in khaki shorts, sneakers, and a white t-shirt. The shirt stretched tightly over his muscles. He wore dark aviator sunglasses and a fierce frown.

"You know, I thought once we got you out of the uniform, you'd look a little less Navy," Dass said. "But if you were buck naked begging on a street corner, I bet passersby would still try to hire you to captain a ship."

"What are we doing here like this?" Grimthorn asked.

"Okay, detail time. So we have this group of terrorists that's been stealing Navy weapons. I've managed to work myself in with them as a fixer so I can buy the weapons back, help keep them out of the hands of folks the Imperium really doesn't want having them."

"Oh, so you have done this work before."

"Yes, you're very smart," Dass said. "Now I've been invited here to Grover to meet with their core group. This is our chance to get at the ringleaders, put a stop to the whole thing."

"I see. You still haven't told me my role in all this."

"Your role... is to roll with it."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I sold them on the idea that I could get a mole in the Navy. You're my mole."

"What?"

"Ah, here we are." Dass stopped in front of a steel door.

"Wait, you expect me to pretend to be a traitor to the Imperium?"

"Oh, FYI, if you blow my cover, these guys will kill both of us. So, you know, make an effort to roll with it."

"What do you mean? What if someone asks about--"

"Doesn't matter. Just roll with it. Follow my lead."

Dass pushed the door open and walked in.