Commander Ordren walked down the wide, clean hallways of the Imperial Clarion. His stride was firm and long. He held his head high, with his square jaw and classic chiseled features sweeping across the offices.

He stopped at the office marked on his scanner and rapped on the open door.

"Mr. Melemann?" he called.

Koro Melemann, the otter-shaped Lutrin, popped his head up with a broad, friendly smile.

Koro's office was cluttered, but rather than looking offputting or dirty, it was cluttered in a cozy way, disorganized but friendly.

"Ah, Commander Ordren!" he cried. Koro hopped down out of his seat and waddled over the the Commander, taking his hand in a warm handshake. "Please, come in, come in!"

"I'm just passing through," Commander Ordren said. "I thought I'd pop in to say hello. How are things?"

"Oh, very well, very well. And yourself?"

"Well enough. I'm keeping busy. How's that article coming?"

Koro's face grew long and morose.

"Oh. It's very sad, you know. I've gotten a lovely writeup done, but with all the violence and unrest to report on, my editor keeps pushing it back. I'm so very sorry." He seemed on the verge of tears.

"Oh, not a problem, not a problem at all. Please don't worry about it." Commander Ordren barely restrained himself from patting the little Lutrin on the head. "I was only curious."

"It's just, it's just, I did so much work on it, and I took up your valuable time-- time from our great Naval leadership!" Koro wrung his paws together. "It's not fair that our readers don't get to hear the wisdom of their betters!"

"Please, think nothing of it," Commander Ordren said. "I completely understand, there's nothing you can do. When all this settles down, perhaps you'll be able to publish it then."

"Yes, that would be very good, wouldn't it?" Koro smiled up at Commander Ordren, looking vulnerable.

"Yes, it would. Your good work is important to the Imperium, Mr. Melemann."

"Thank you so much," Koro said, bowing slightly.

"Of course." Commander Ordren glanced at his watch. "Tell me, is the owner's office on this floor?"

"Oh, no, sir. The Clarion's owner is on the very uppermost top floor. As it should be, of course."

Commander Ordren laughed.

"Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Melemann, and keep up the good work!"

Commander Ordren escaped the office before he could be reeled back in for more apologies.

He took the lift to the top floor. The elevator was a glass capsule that ran up the outside of the building, so the rider could look out over Techterra as they rose. The city was dark grey, dingy, and sprawling. In the distance, roads stretched away from the borders of the city across the dry plains of Ceon 12.

Commander Ordren was glad he could spend these few minutes enjoying the view.

With a musical tone, the lift stopped and the doors slid open. Commander Ordren stepped out onto a plush carpet. Tasteful art dotted the hallway leading to a single door.

The door itself was rich mahogany. A large, gold-plated nameplate adorned it, reading "Sehren Senn."

Commander Ordren rapped on the door.

"Mr. Senn?"

After a moment the door opened. A short, lean man peered out at the Commander. Sehren Senn was dressed in khakis and a polo. His face was knobby, with a pinched nose and a permanently sour expression.

"Oh, Commander Ordren," he said, his face brightening. "I wasn't expecting you. Please, come in. Can I get you anything?"

Senn's office was large and artistically decorated. A conversation pit was in the center of the office, with a large, abstract statue in the middle of it. The walls were white, but the carpet was various shades of brown, striated to give the appearance of wood grain. Short, tasteful shelves ringed the roomy, well-lit office. Large windows gave a clear, sweeping view of Techterra.

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks," Commander Ordren said, stepping into the office. "Say, you do have quite a view up here, don't you?"

Senn shrugged in a self-deprecating way.

"I'd prefer something a little more humble, but the Imperial Clarion's board feels that the owner's office should represent both the high calling of the Clarion and the glory of the Imperium," he said. "All hail the Imperium," he added as an afterthought.

"All hail," Commander Ordren said absently. "Look, Senn, I've come to chat about the stories that have been going out from the Clarion lately."

Senn motioned him to a plush chair across from the desk.

"Certainly. Though I hope you're not planning to use the power of the Navy to coerce the media."

Commander Ordren chuckled.

"Come, now, Senn, you know me better than that. Nothing like that. I just wanted to let you know what it's like out there."

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"Yes?" Senn sat behind his desk and peered at Ordren over steepled fingers.

Commander Ordren shifted uncomfortably.

"Senn, the violence is getting worse. Not in the nice neighborhoods, of course, but in neighborhoods with many SSes--"

"Well, you know my feelings on them."

"Yes, yes, I know, you think they ought to be ejected en masse. But that's Imperial policy that's above both our heads. I'm not here for that debate. We have to address the situation we find ourselves in."

"Yes, well, if we stopped giving them false hope by putting them in high positions in the Navy--"

Commander Ordren raised a hand.

"We're clearing some of that up right now. But Senn, all these terrible stories, they put me in an awkward position. As Commander of the Imperial Navy, I'm ultimately responsible for the safety of the entire Imperium, but my position here in Techterra is still primarily political. The brain of the Navy lives here, and I have to be sensitive to the needs of the Techterrans."

"Ordren, I'm a news man. If there's news, I have to report it." Senn spread his hands. "What else would you have me do?"

"I'm not asking you to stop reporting, but maybe tone it down a little. Senn, the people are scared. Petrified. If this keeps up, it won't be long until there are broad-scale retributions. Imagine a mass of Terrans marching into the SS quarter with violent intent. That's the future we're moving toward! Think of your responsibility to the people!"

Senn sighed.

"I do, every day. Listen, we can work together on this. But I need you to give me something-- something high-profile. Something that shows that the Navy is taking this thing seriously. I can line up a whole series on how the Navy is dealing with the SS threat, but I need an anchor story. Let me show the people that the Navy is willing to make the hard cuts to keep them safe, and I can sell that narrative."

Commander Ordren relaxed noticeably.

"High-profile, huh? I think I have just the thing." Commander Ordren nodded to himself. "I'll get you your story, and you help me calm this whole thing down. Keep Techterra in one piece." He chortled. "At least until I retire."

Senn smiled thinly.

"Of course." He stood, and held out a hand to Commander Ordren. "It's a pleasure to work with you, as always."

----------------------------------------

The overhead lights flashed in Admiral Stonefist's office.

"Lunchtime!" Kinnit sang. She hopped to her feet. "Admiral, are you coming?"

"Not today, Kinnit. You enjoy." He looked over at his newest Assistant. "Sol, do you have a minute?"

"Of course, sir."

"I'll show you the filing system after lunch, Sol!" Kinnit called. She swept out the door, followed by Grimthorn's smile.

Grimthorn's face became serious as he turned back to Sol. He glared at the desk. Sol's desk and console had showed up only a few days after he did. After the months it had taken to get all Kinnit's equipment, the speed with which everything had come in for Sol grated on Grimthorn.

Of course, he knew that the delay in Kinnit's equipment was mostly because of Jorya's embezzlements and her subsequent murder. His eyes stung at the memory. The simple desk reminded him of too much.

And it wasn't Sol's fault. He had to keep telling himself that.

"Lieutenant Sol, you've been here a couple weeks now. How are you liking your position so far?"

"Oh, very well, sir. It's an honor to serve on board the Swordheart."

"Naturally. Tell me, Lieutenant, how is it working with an SS?"

Lieutenant Sol paused, considering. Admiral Stonefist looked grim, but he always did. Sol decided to try a little tactical honesty.

"Well, sir, it's... I've got concerns."

"Go on."

Sol took a deep breath.

"It's just such an important position, sir. Not to inflate myself, but anyone in your office is privy to so many military secrets. Everything has to be done to the highest standard, and discretion is vital."

Grimthorn stared at him waiting for him to continue. Sol cleared his throat.

"It's just that... I don't know if an SS is up to the task. I mean, I'm sure she's very good, within her limitations, but I don't know that it's right for the safety of the Imperium to rest on a pity hire."

Grimthorn took a steadying breath through his nose before responding. He'd asked for the man's opinion, and it wouldn't be right to lash out at him for being honest. However wrongheaded it was.

"Do you love the Imperium, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Sol thought about it for a long moment.

"I do, sir. I think the Imperium is the greatest force for good that the galaxy has ever seen."

Grimthorn stood and turned away from Sol, staring out through the portal.

"Now you sound like Kinnit. You're right. The Imperium has done more to bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy than anything else in living history." He smiled. "The Imperium is grand, but not perfect."

He turned back to Sol.

"Lieutenant, what is a Subject Species?"

Taken aback by all the sudden turns in the conversation, Sol fumbled for an answer.

"Ah, an SS? They're, well, they're species that can't be citizens, right?"

"Hmm. By that logic, are the Oryndrax SSes?"

"Oh, no sir! I mean..." Sol paused, thinking. "No, they couldn't be. They're enemies."

"Mmhmm. So what makes a species a Subject Species?"

"Umm... well, they're not enemies, but they'd be dangerous to the Imperium, I guess."

"Like the Mucilageans?"

"The slime-men? Yeah, they're very dangerous."

"They're dangerous, yet they're citizens."

"True." Sol frowned. "I guess SSes just can't be trusted?"

"Can Terrans be trusted? All of them?"

"Well, mostly... some of them... I mean..." Sol stuttered to a miserable stop. "I don't know, sir."

Grimthorn nodded, and his voice took on a professorial tone.

"The primary characteristic that separates a Subject Species from a citizen species is usefulness."

Lieutenant Sol's brow crinkled.

"Sir?"

"Think of the Jovians. One of the first SSes. They're not enemies. They're friendly enough, and they benefit a very great deal from being in the Imperium. What do they provide to the Imperium, though? A bunch of giant gasbags floating around: no industry, minimal technology, limited ability to communicate. What good are they doing for the Imperium?"

"Ah, nothing, I guess?"

"So are they a lesser species then?"

Sol twisted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I guess? They must be, they've been classified as SSes."

"No, they're not. They've got a rich, complex culture of their own. Different from ours, but compatible enough. Think it through. Why would we even want them in the Imperium? I'll give you a hint: there are actually two reasons."

Lieutenant Sol thought long and hard.

"So they... don't become enemies?" he asked.

"Very good. That's one. If they're benefiting by being Imperials, it's much harder for somebody else to come along and turn them against us. Security. What's the other reason?"

Sol frowned and stared at his desk.

"I don't know, sir," he said finally.

"Potential. Even if a Subject Species is not useful right now, with Imperial technology and education, in a few generations they could become an extremely valuable species."

Grimthorn could nearly see the lightbulb go on over Sol's head.

"I see, sir. So by helping a young civilization grow, the Imperium reaps the benefits of the powerful species they eventually become."

"That's the thinking."

"That's very wise."

"It could be. So I ask you again, how is it working with an SS?"

Sol stopped with his mouth open.

"Oh," he said finally.

Grimthorn laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"Something to think about. I'm going to go grab some lunch now." Grimthorn walked out the door without another word.

"Sir, you forgot to lock your console!" Sol said, but the door closed on his sentence. Lost in thought, he walked over to the Admiral's desk to lock the console, and saw that the Admiral had Kinnit's service record pulled up.

He knew it was wrong, but curiosity pulled his eye down to the screen.