Firstborn

lose a dozen men fighting pirates. Need I be responsible for the deaths of thousands in the Reunification War as well?”
    “I know Admiral Kern,” Sennion said, ignoring his son’s objections. “He is an excellent tactician. Perhaps he will be able to help you with your...problems.”
    “Problems?” Dennison demanded quietly. “Problems, father? Has it never even occurred to you that I’m just not any good at this? It isn’t dishonorable for the son of a High Duke to seek another profession, once he’s proven himself unsuited to command. Goodness knows, I’ve certainly satisfied
that
particular requirement.”
    Sennion stepped forward, grabbing Dennison by the shoulders. “You will not speak that way,” he commanded. “You are not like other officers. The High Empire expects more. The High Empire
demands
more!”
    Dennison was taken aback by his father’s lack of formality, and some of the passers by stopped to regard the strange sight of a High Duke acting with such passion. Dennison stood within his father’s stiff grasp, reading the man’s eyes.
It isn’t the High Emperor, is it, father?
Dennison thought.
It’s you. One genius son isn’t enough. For you, one success and one failure simply cancel each other out.
    “Go prepare yourself,” Sennion said, releasing him. “
The Stormwind
is expecting your speeder in three days, and it’s a seventy-hour trip.”
    * * *
    “With permission, Your Majesty, I don’t think this is the command for me,” Dennison said, kneeling before the speeder’s wallscreen.
    The High Emperor was a middle-aged man with a firm chin and a full face. He was balding in a time when most men got scalp rejuvenations, but his refusal to enhance his appearance lent him a weight of . . . authenticity. He frowned at Dennison’s comment. “It is an enviable post, Dennison. Most young High Officers would consider it an amazing opportunity.”
    “I am hardly like most young officers, Your Majesty,” Dennison noted.
    “No, that you certainly are not,” the emperor said. “However, I would think that this post’s near proximity to your brother would interest you.”
    Dennison shrugged. “To be honest, Your Majesty, I don’t know Varion. I’m curious about him, but no more so than another person might be. I maintain my Petition to be released from this commission.”
    The emperor’s frown deepened. “You need to show more initiative, young Crestmar. Your pessimism has been a great annoyance to the High Throne.”
    Dennison glanced down—it was always bad when the emperor switched to the third person. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I really have tried—I’ve tried all my life. But I received near-failing marks at the Academy, I never managed to even place in the games, and I’ve bungled every command given me. I’m just not any good.”
    “You have it in you,” the emperor said. “You just have to try a little harder.”
    Dennison groaned softly. The emperor had obviously been speaking with his father again. “How can you be so sure, Your Majesty?”
    “I just am. Your Petition is denied. Is there anything else?”
    Dennison shook his head.
    * * *
    Admiral Kern was not waiting for Dennison in the docking bay when he left the speeder, but that wasn’t unusual. Though a High Officer, Dennison was still a junior one, and Kern was one of the most powerful admirals in the Fleet.
    Dennison followed an aide through the flagship’s passageways. They were surprisingly well-decorated for a warship, adorned with the twelve seals of the High Empire. This was an Imperial Flagship, designed to impress inside and out. The aide led him to a large, circular chamber with a battle hologram at its center. Though the air sparkled with miniature ships, only one man stood in the room—this wasn’t the bridge, but a simulation chamber very similar to the ones Dennison had used at the Academy.
    High Admiral Kern was young for one of his rank; he had a square face and thick dark hair. He was large enough that one could imagine him as some ancient general with a horse and broadsword, yet he had the typical reserved mien of an imperial nobleman. He didn’t look away from his battle as Dennison entered. The edges of the room were dim, the only illumination coming from the illusory ships and the glowing ring that marked the hologram’s edge. Kern stood at the center, not directing the progress, just observing. The aid left, closing the door.
    “Do you recognize this battle?” the