Colonel John had Alice set him up with an ancient office, like something from an old war movie. The walls were wood panel, the desk was metal, and the chairs were uncomfortably padded metal. The temperature in the office was purposely on the high side with a small desk fan only blowing on Colonel John. For that reason, there was no mystery why Captain Johnson looked uncomfortable as he sat waiting for Colonel John to explain why he was in the office in the first place.

Colonel John lit a cigar and took a few puffs from it before leaning back in his chair, "Chet, I have a problem. One of the destroyers in our squadron has morale so bad the destroyer itself came to me and asked for its command crew to be replaced."

Captain Johnson snorted, "Let me guess, the Stanfield?"

Colonel John took another drag and then moved the cigar from left to right in his teeth, "If you were in my shoes, how would you handle it?"

Captain Johnson felt his adrenaline surge. He thought the Colonel was asking the question because he was looking for a new major. It made complete sense to him because he knew that one of their current majors, Major Anderson Washington who worked the 'C' shift was weak. "Well, Colonel, I'm glad you asked because I have a few ideas for cleaning up the squadron. First, for the command crew, I'd say since we are technically in hostile territory the rules are clear, they should be thrown in the brig and relieved of all duties."

Colonel John didn't blink at his answer and only took a drag on the cigar before asking, "Are you sure about that Chet, these guys are assholes, not criminals?"

Captain Johnson arrogantly smiled and then said, "If they are endangering the squadron during wartime by not leading their men to maximum discipline and effectiveness, they are trash."

Colonel John took the cigar out of his mouth and set it in a metal ashtray on the desk. He then took an ancient yellow paper folder that was tied with a string and started to slowly untie it. "Chet, that still seems a little harsh, at least one of these men used to be a great commander full of promise. The other seems to have been promoted just one level too high."

Captain Johnson snorted and then said, "The first thing I did when I was promoted to command, was to start making sure that those kinds of undesirable officers were effectively ousted. I believe that there is no performance evaluation that should have an exceeds expectations box checked. My expectation is for everyone to work above accepted expectations which means everyone is below expectations at all times."

"Ahhhh so that's what's to blame." Colonel John nodded, he opened the folder and then started to read before saying, "Chet, you were a highly regarded Lieutenant it says here in your file."

Captain Johnson smiled harder, "Yes sir, I was in charge of the kitchen. During my time the kitchen saw a net saving in food costs of almost 50%. It set a squadron record by giving me an award from high command and a promotion to Captain."

Colonel John nodded and then asked, "How was the morale in your kitchen, it says here in your file that you had a dozen transfer requests and two early retirements during your time there?"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Captain Johnson cackled, "Yes sir, I was able to get rid of the slackers and half-assers until I had only the best workers remaining."

Colonel John shook his head and then said, "Chet. It sounds like you really never learned how to inspire and lead your men. That's a mistake on our part. We shouldn't have pushed you into that leadership role before you were ready, that's on me and the majors for not paying close enough attention. Thankfully we had this conversation now and not after your subordinates took action the old way. In early human wars it was not uncommon for the men under the command of a bad leader to kill the man in his sleep, did you know that?"

Captain Johnson suddenly felt his guts drop out. He went pale and then looked at the words on the front of the file and felt himself ask, "Then, the worst destroyer in the squadron is the Van Halen?"

"It is. How many transfer requests do you have at the moment, Chet?" Colonel John asked while tapping a finger on the folder.

He swallowed, "I don't think there are too many, maybe twenty-three?"

Colonel John nodded and then said, "Chet, that's twenty-three more than the next worst destroyer, were you aware of that? No, don't answer that. I plan to talk to Paul next, but for now, I've decided to return you to the rank of Lieutenant. I want to have you back in the kitchen, you were a bad leader, but you were at least partially effective there."

Chet Johnson felt as if his whole life had been a lie as he sat there. He could hear the blood rushing to his ears. His vision was filled with color. He was nauseous and then he fainted.

Captain Paul Franklin got up like normal, went to the officer's mess like normal, and then logged into Wonderland before he needed to report to his duty station. As soon as he logged in he found himself at an ancient military camp. Soldiers in ancient uniforms were walking around until Alice, dressed in an ancient female military outfit walked up and said, "Hello Captain Franklin, the Colonel would like to see you in his office, this morning. Could you come with me, please?"

Alice led him into a drab green Quonset hut. The wood panel walls of the office were decorated with awards, medals, and ancient weapons. Colonel John sat behind the ancient desk smoking half of a cigar. "Have a seat, Paul. I think you know why I invited you here, first of all, you should know that I promoted Jackson to Captain and demoted that prick Chet back to the kitchen. Effective five hours ago."

"Then we are here to talk about another demotion for me as well?" Paul slumped into his chair visibly. "I thought I could just ride out the ashes of my career in quiet as a bomber commander, but I guess I was naive."

"Talk to me Paul, what the fuck happened to you? I served under you as a second lt and you were a fine commander. It's like you have given up when we need you the most." Colonel John stubbed the cigar out into the metal ashtray.

"I was a major at the battle of Mars, they said my decision-making during the battle got half my squadron killed. My squadron leader used me as his shield, that's how Van Halen and I ended up in the reformed Six Seventy-Three. The decision I made was to drop my bombs and then detonate them against the defense force. We took out three of those big battleships of theirs, but all they saw during the after-action report was that we charged into the enemy fire without orders from our colonel causing the loss of seven destroyers on the way in and three on the way out. The other ten destroyers we made it out with weren't enough to save my career."

"Have you given up, Paul?"

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't been paying attention to the shit Chet does on his shift. When his people came to me, I felt like they were trying to cling to a dying tree." He slumped and then said, "Before Mars, I felt like I was fighting with my brothers, that someone always had my back. After I was sacrificed by my Colonel like that, I just felt I needed to hide in the rear until I qualified for the retirement bonus."

Colonel John leaned forward, "Paul, I'm not going to sugarcoat things. I need you. Your men need you. Not this version of you, but Major Franklin who took out three state-of-the-art PRE battleships with last-generation destroyers. There is no retirement bonus. Hell, all there is at this point is what we have here in the squadron right now. Until we pass through a gate, we have at most, what? Less than a year's worth of provisions?"

Captain Franklin sat up straight in his chair, "I will be better, Colonel."

"You're fucking right you will, Paul. If you aren't I'll have Phteven take over for you. He's a bright kid, maybe too much of an ass kisser, but I blame you and Chet for creating an atmosphere where he thought that was the only chance for his career."

Paul got up, his back wet with sweat. "Thank you, sir. For giving me another chance."

"Don't make me regret it, Paul. I have much bigger fish to fry than worrying about the morale of a single destroyer. Dismissed."

The red alert klaxon sounded and everyone found themselves forced out of the entertainment grid.