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does not come cheap. It’s an expense that needs to be distributed among all Alliance members.”
    That made perfectly good sense to Jason, but he noticed his father still hadn’t answered his question. Jason tried again, “So, Granger … what exactly is your job … your command?”
    “We’ll get to that in a moment,” his father interjected, looking annoyed at Jason’s persistence.
    Jason and Dira exchanged a quick glance. She, too, was leery of the Caldurian. On the positive side, he was a genius and knew this ship like no other. But he’d proven to be not only opportunistic, but also untrustworthy. He’d even provided Caldurian technology to the Craing for some stint of time.
    The admiral picked up on Jason’s less than pleased expression, but continued on anyway, “As I mentioned, your paperwork has been processed and fast-tracked. You are officially vice-admiral within our Allied forces. Congratulations.”
    Jason nodded and said, “Thank you, I think. I’m not sure what that higher rank entails, but I’ll do my best … whatever that is.”
    “What do you mean?” his father asked.
    “Even a vice-admiral basically holds down a desk-job position. I’m assuming I’ll oversee, or help oversee, some of our Allied fleet assets.”
    His father chuckled at that. “You … a desk job? How long do you think that would last? A week? Maybe two? No. Your services are required in a different regard.” The admiral paused, as if to collect his thoughts. “Look … things are different now. While the Craing Empire is no longer a threat … no longer even an empire … their vast interstellar military today contributes the bulk of the Alliance fleet. With that said … there are monumental situational changes happening throughout the galaxy … beyond that, I can’t be concerned. The Milky Way has quickly become a galactic mess. Infighting … piracy … old conflicts, wars reigniting. It all comes down to interstellar instability that affects the Allied worlds. We don’t want another Craing situation … not ever.”
    Jason shrugged. “What can you do? I mean, is it our job to police the galaxy?”
    The room went quiet as the admiral continued to stare intently at Jason.
    Then realization set in. “Oh, come on … you can’t be serious?”
    More silence. Ricket was looking down at the table. Granger was smiling.
    “I’m policing the galaxy … a fucking policeman?”
    The admiral, not doing a very good job hiding his own amusement, said, “Policing is your description, not mine. It needs to be done and it needs to be done now.”
    Jason saw Dira in his peripheral vision and she too was amused. Why is this so funny to everyone else?
    “Why go to the trouble of giving me a promotion if I’m just going to be an interstellar Barney Fife?”
    Even his father laughed out loud at that. “Look, this actually is serious business. Probably the most important posting for any Allied officer. The Alliance’s wellbeing, as well as Earth’s, depends on how well you do your assignment. We’ll be providing you with tremendous resources to ensure that you have exactly what you need: ships, crew, security forces … you name it. You’ll also be captaining the Minian .”
    That was unexpected. Jason began to grow more interested. “I still don’t understand my whole vice-admiral-promotion thing.”
    “You’ll be gone for weeks, maybe even months at a time. I want you to have the authority to make big decisions. Decisions not only affecting the Alliance, as a whole, but also the wellbeing of individual alien worlds. You’ll have in-field responsibilities I wouldn’t particularly envy. No, Star Watch will have to operate as close to an autonomous force as possible for it to be truly effective.”
    “Star Watch?”
    “Yes, that’s what we’ve named the armada.”
    “And how many ships are we talking about?”
“Twelve … plus the Minian. Three light Craing cruisers, and nine heavy Craing