“Congratulations, general. The enemy forces were no match for your superior strategy and better-trained soldiers.”

“Thank you, Lord Peabody. I often say the field of battle does not determine the outcome. Like any major test, the months and years of preparation determine an outcome. In this case, this battle was nothing more than a formality.” 

“I’m glad my money and the state’s money haven’t been wasted these last years.”

General Omnicron sat back contentedly. It was good to get some positive feedback from his superior. Of course, he was worried about how much had been spent and how long it had taken to secure this first victory. This first victory was evidence that money had been well spent. Further victories would no doubt follow. He felt secure in his position now and anticipated a long career as a military general, perhaps followed by ascent into a lordship of some small planet or asteroid. 

“General, I have now decided to conduct annual performance reviews for all those who hold senior positions with me.”

Bah! Beuarocrats, thought Omnicron. He had far more important things to worry about, but if this is what it took for the money to keep flowing and the victories to keep coming, then let the box-ticking exercise continue. 

“No doubt a man with your impeccable record won’t object.” Perhaps something of his thoughts had shown on his face. “No, No, of course not, Lord Peabody I’d be happy to get it over with now. I’m sure we both have busy schedules, but as we’re both here, let’s use this time effectively.” The sooner this was done, the better. He assumed this was an activity Lord Peabody was doing with all of his staff and needed to show some sort of equality. After all, it wasn’t like his position was under question. A General who achieved military victories couldn’t just be removed. The men, for one, would object. Such was their loyalty that he assumed they would refuse to serve another General. 

“Excellent General. I was hoping we could get this out of the way. Let’s try to keep the discussion as formal as possible. Its important there is a certain level of professionalism and consistency with these things.” The pedant. This was a waste of time. “OK, General Omnicron, I have now commenced the recording device in my watch. Today is the nineteenth of October in the year 3544. This is the annual performance review of General Jalal Omnicron. The assessment will be carried out against the following criteria: aptitude, budget and ethics. Is there anything you’d like to state before we begin?”

Omnicron, was slightly taken aback by the presence of criteria. He really couldn’t see a need for this.”No, I believe everything is in order, and if you allow, I believe my performance speaks for itself.”

Lord Peabody appeared to think about that with a puzzled look on his face. “Well, let’s begin. This year, you carried out your army’s first military engagements. You conducted several battles and were largely militarily victorious.”

The use of the word largely made the General raise his eyebrows. “Largely? Lord Peabody, these are military engagements; the results are binary. Either we were victorious, or we were defeated. I think you’ll find no defeats on my record,” he said, puffing up his chest and sniffing dismissively. 

“Well, such is the prerogative of the simple soldier General. But for you, your station demands that things are a little more complicated. You and I have the luxury of planning a full campaign of war across the best part of a decade, winning mere battles is trifling. Winning a war and achieving conquest, lands, industry, and people, now that is what victory is to men of our station. So when I said you were “largely” successful, I do imply that yes you managed to achieve some initial victories but you’ve spent years training your soldiers and armies at a cost that is unsustainable. The victories you achieved were great for the morale of my subjects, but…. how to put this delicately; you have not yet started reimbursing the war purse you most lavishly spent.”

General Omnicrons face was getting redder with every sentence. The impudence of this man. He knew nothing of the blood and guts of war. He knew nothing of the adrenaline and sweat of battle armour. He knew nothing of the sound of heavy artillery missiles whining through the air and causing even the most stalwart of warriors to think of God and the afterlife. Yet here he was, lecturing me about budgets! Money be damned! This was a war; there was an enemy to defeat.

“Sir”, he began forcefully, ready to build a head of steam and indignation, “war is a costly business; you know this. We are willing to pay these costs to fight for the values we believe in and protect our domains from the enemy.”

“Pish posh”, replied Peabody dismissively. “You don’t believe that rubbish, do you Omnicron? For goodness sake, the enemy is no more my enemy than you are. I was playing snooker with the “enemy” only last month. Lord Pliska is an excellent host. No, no, the only difference between the enemy and ourselves is that you and your army are under my employ, and the only values that I wish to uphold are the ones that make my investment in this army a significant return.”

General Omnicron was a man with a black-and-white disposition. He had been briefed when he applied to work under Peabody that the war Peabody was fighting was a war to protect the innocents being exploited in the industrial planets in this quadrant of space. He’d even been shown the atrocious conditions these people were forced to work in. They were nothing short of slaves, and he was adamant in his desire to save them. The Covenant of United Planets stated categorically that the practice of slavery had been eradicated. He was proud of the covenant, distinguishing civilisation from barbarians. It was worth fighting for. “Sir, my values demanded I assist in the freeing of the innocents under Lord Pliska’s tyrannical rule. I even agreed to reduced wages.”

“Yes, you did, which was admirable, but if any of those innocents you mentioned are freed, I would likely dump you into space myself. Those industrial planets need to stay intact exactly the way they are. If there were a way to merely change the banking accounts in which their yield is deposited to my own, then I would have no need for you or this war. I want assets, my good man. I want productive assets, and I want them to be entirely intact. I expect the next few battles you wage actually yield some productive assets, or I might have to reevaluate your position.”

General Omnicron was left spluttering. “You can’t be serious?” The stone-dead look on Lord Peabody’s face was answer enough. Lord Peabody continued, “Now I want to discuss ethics.” At least Omicron was comfortable discussing this. He strictly adhered to war ethics, and he would tolerate nothing less from the armies under his command. “It looks like you captured 29 space frigates in these last skirmishes. Good work, Omnicron. What do you intend to do with the prisoners?”

“Are you quite mad, General?” The unexpected question caught Omnicron off guard. “Mad sir?”

“Are you aware just how much it would cost for me to buy out the contracts for 30 frigates worth of soldiers? What? Did you think you could just throw them in amongst the men, and Pliskas wouldn’t legally challenge that they were going against their contracts? Those men would be outlaws instantly, and the Covenant of United Planets would demand that I hand over all men and would like to take away my war license. Forcing soldiers to breach their contracts is a senseless exercise both for them and us. I suggest you pack them all into a single frigate and send them rocketing into a local star. If you don’t have the stomach for it, then perhaps just maim them so they can’t participate in the war again. In fact, that will also force Pliskas to keep paying for them, so that might be the better option. I only lament you hadn’t captured any of the industrial planets yet, we could have sent them there to work as slaves.” 

By this point, General Omnicron was lost for words. He was aghast. “But slavery is illegal”, he barely managed to splutter.

“Sir, I hoped to mix them with our own forces and bolster our armies.”

Lord Peabody issued a hearty chuckle. “Omnicron, your naivety is refreshing. The Covenant merely states that slavery has been eradicated. It is a statement, an untrue statement, but regardless of its truth or untruth, it does nothing to compel us to stop the practice of slavery. For goodness sake, the signees of the covenant are all owners of the bleakest slave planets.”

By this point, Omnicron was taking deep breaths to steady himself. Surely the world wasn’t like this. Surely morality and values were the true principles that should govern all decisions. Not profit and conquest. What kind of a galaxy was this? His mind, usually sharp and decisive, was lost in a fog of bleakness. He had spent sweat, blood, lives and loves to fight for this man. How could he not realise that the man he worked for was merely interested in lining his pockets? It’s better to fight for the barbarian space pirates. At least they believed in something.

The silence between the two men stretched on for several moments. “Are you going to resign, General?” This was the exact thought that was going through Omnicrons mind. Preserving his honour was more valuable to him than making a name for himself. There were worthier causes to fight for. “Need I remind you that you signed a 10-year contract Omnicron? You aren’t permitted to work for anyone else unless I release you from this contract. Further, I have no intention of releasing you except if a suitable bid would come in from another planetary Lord. I doubt a bid is forthcoming; so far, you seemed to have only demonstrated an ability to spend money and win some skirmishes. The best option for your career is to fulfil your contract and establish a name.”

Omnicron was beginning to get angry. It was the lack of passion more than anything. This man was sitting here, as calm as a butterfly resting on a flower, speaking casually about slaves, profits and contracts, the lives of thousands of people in his grasp. He was discussing these things as if they were nothing but trifles and inconveniences. Dark thoughts began to form. Omicron commanded armies; this man; Peabody, was holding the purse strings, but the money had already been spent. Bank accounts were no match for missiles. His flagship battle cruiser was waiting merely an hour away. It would be nothing to command his gunners to fire on Lord Peabody’s pleasure craft. “Lord Peabody, I believe you have made yourself most clear; I believe I have my orders, and your reprimand has been taken to heart.” He stood up and saluted, deciding that flattery would be best served now. 

Lord Peabody frowned and then sighed. He nodded his head, and Omnicron rigidly walked out of the room. The man was not subtle at all, and although he was an asset in training and mobilising an army, it looked like he had too many morals to wage this war. Perhaps if he let it be known in certain quarters that he’d be willing to sell Omnicron contract, he could somehow find a way for Pliska to bid on him. Ho ho, that would be some coup. He sat back and pondered this for a while.

His reverie was interrupted by his chief aide. “Lord Peabody.” 

“Yes?” 

“General Omnicron’s flagship appears to be emitting ultra-heated radiation and preparing to fire. I see no other ships in our vicinity, sir.”

Lord Peabody waved him away, “General Omnicron is a moral man. If anything, I’d be rather impressed if he went through with it.” 

The aide walked away and returned several minutes later “Lord Peabody, as you said, radiation signals have now disappeared.”

Lord Peabody nodded and again delved back into quiet planning. There must be some way Omnicron could be useful.