… from the twentieth century through the twenty-first century AD, one can produce many examples of the rampant technological development which threatened to rob humanity of its identity. In particular, the replication of human beings by cloning—one of the fruits of genetic engineering—was once mistakenly believed to be a guarantee of eternal life, despite the fact that only its theoretical possibilities had been demonstrated. When cloning was brought together with ideas of social Darwinism, fearsome ideologies that took a very light view of human life ran rampant across the face of the planet known as Earth. The opinion that those possessing inferior genes were unqualified to bear children and that inferior races should be weeded out for the qualitative improvement of the human race began to hold increasing sway. This was truly the first budding of the assertions that Rudolf von Goldenbaum would make in latter times …
The passage that was displayed on the console’s tiny screen suddenly dimmed and faded out. Faster than one could push a control button, another passage appeared.
“Commodore Yang, the commander is calling for you. Please report to the conn as quickly as possible.”
His reading interrupted, Commodore Yang Wen-li grabbed his uniform beret and ran a hand through his unruly head of black hair. He was a junior staff officer in the Free Planets Alliance’s Second Fleet, occupying a seat in a corner of the bridge of its flagship, Patroklos. Since he had been enjoying his private reading on a console originally intended as a tactical computer, there was no sense in feeling annoyed.
Yang’s Name Notation Type was “E.” This was a tradition carried over from the days of the federation. People whose family names came before their given names were designated “E,” which stood for “Eastern.” Those whose given names came before their family names were called “W,” for “Western.”
Of course, in this day and age, with the races having mixed as thoroughly as has they had, a person’s name was only a vague indicator of his or her direct ancestry.
The twenty-nine-year-old Yang, with his black hair, black eyes, and medium height and build, gave more the impression of an easygoing scholar than that of a soldier. At least that’s the impression one might describe if pressed. Most people who looked at him saw nothing more than a very quiet-natured young man. Most couldn’t believe their ears when they heard his rank.
“Commodore Yang, reporting as ordered, sir.”
The fleet commander, Vice Admiral Paetta, turned his unfriendly eyes on the young officer saluting him. He was a middle-aged man with stern, forbidding features that made it impossible to imagine him in any line of work but the military.
Observing Yang again, he simply said, “I’ve looked over the tactical plan you submitted,” though what he wanted to say was, How in the world can a sissy-looking kid like you be only two ranks below me?! “It was a fairly interesting idea,” he continued. “But too cautious. And I wonder if it wasn’t just a bit too passive.”
“You don’t say,” Yang answered. He said it in a very quiet tone of voice, but on reflection, it might have seemed a pretty rude thing to say to a commanding officer. Vice Admiral Paetta hadn’t noticed it, though.
“As you yourself noted,” he continued, “it would be pretty hard to lose with this strategy. But there’s no point in simply not losing. We’ve gotta win. We’re closing in on the enemy from three directions. And on top of that, we’ve got twice their numbers. All the conditions are lined up for a big win, so why are you thinking up ways to avoid losing?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not like they’re surrounded already.”
This time Paetta did notice. His eyebrows drew together in irritation, making a splendid vertical crease in the midst of his forehead.
Yang was as relaxed as ever.
Nine years ago, when he had graduated from the National Defense Force Officers’ Academy, Yang had been an unremarkable, newly minted ensign. He had graduated 1,909th in his class of 4,840. But now, he could certainly not be called an unremarkable commodore. He was one of only sixteen officers in the entire alliance who had reached admiralty while still in their twenties.
It was impossible that Vice Admiral Paetta was unaware of the young commodore’s service record. In nine years, Yang had participated in over a hundred combat operations. And even though he hadn’t often been in large-scale battles involving thousands of vessels like this one, he hadn’t been just some kid playing with firecrackers, either. Above all else, he had been the shining hero of the so-called El Facil Evacuation.
Though he was young, he was the hero of a historic battle, and yet Vice Admiral Paetta didn’t get that impression from him at all. Still, when the officers’ salaries were calculated in the rear service at headquarters, it was clear that he was being well paid in accordance with his record.
“At any rate, this tactical plan is rejected.”
Paetta held the papers out to Yang, then added unnecessarily, “Let me also just say, this is nothing personal.”