Arguably, those who perform above and beyond the call of duty are rewarded with rank and recognition. To a lesser degree, I could attest to this.

I had flown with many Valkear Generals in the war, from General Sasawong to General Fist, both very capable leaders and pilots. Each day it seemed the Republic was awarding its highest honour and rank to more and more pilots. It remained to be seen if this was a prudent move or a scenario where there would be “too many chiefs, not enough indians.”

There always needs to be a balance. Too many in charge and you get too many conflicting ideas, resulting in chaos. Too few in charge and poor decisions can be executed, resulting in chaos.

The mandate of the Tribal Liberation Force was to fight chaos, not create it.

I’d done my fair share of fleet command. I’d killed the enemy, captured military complexes, derailed aggressive designs against us, even led our forces into Old Man Star as a demonstration of unwavering commitment to our beliefs.

I’d been harsh and crass as a wing commander; I’d been supportive and led by example. I’d yelled. I’d screamed. I’d gone hoarse giving orders. I’d flown with squads that have needed little in the way of command and resigned myself to calling targets, letting my teams work as an experienced unit together.

Through it all, there had been two constant feedbacks I received:

1. Was an honour to fly with you, Colonel.
2. Why haven’t they made you a General yet?

I had wondered if either comment had been meant in seriousness, or just as friendly jest, and in the end not given it much thought.

Recently, that changed, as I had the privilege to fly with one of the Republic’s most promising new heroes, Valkear General Eran Mintor.

Eran Mintor had been a dynamo for the Tribal Liberation Force. His consistent pushes into hostile territory, his quick organization of resources to secure our defences, his natural ease and demeanour with leadership; it’s no wonder pilots were flocking to his banner, myself included.

I had no ego about command. If there was someone capable of getting things done, let me lend my hand to support them.

I had been flying under Mintor’s command for several hours, producing significant results, routing the Amarr wherever they were encountered. He was an impressive man.

We quickly found ourselves engaged in idle chat about command styles, politics on Pator, my personal life (which came up far too often in conversation with superiors), and eventually why I wasn’t a General yet. Ugh.

“No interest.” was my initial reply to the last question.

“What do you mean ‘No Interest’? It’s the highest honour a pilot can achieve within the Republic. To be decorated as a Valkear General is something of import, Roc.” Eran replied.

I didn’t want to argue with him. I didn’t know him that well. I wasn’t going to preach my stance at him, yet I wasn’t willing to let him dictate his to me.

“If it happens, it happens.” I replied casually, trying not to sound defensive. “Given my recent kill record, though, I don’t see it happening anytime soon.”

“If you were out on the front lines more often, Colonel, maybe it would happen sooner than you think.” Eran replied.

I noticed I was grinding my teeth.

How was I to explain that a shiny piece of tin didn’t make a lick of difference at the end of the day? That the Republic had other, more important issues to deal with internally regardless of the war with the Amarr? That if the war were to end today with Matari victory, we might find ourselves in a far worse situation as a people without this distraction from the real problems?

The answer was I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be the one to shine the harsh light of reality onto this young and rising star. I wouldn’t be the one to let bitterness and regret spill out from me infecting others.

“You’re right, General. I’ll request more rotations in my schedule. Can’t win this war from a dock!” I lied.

He laughed heartily. “That’s the spirit, pilot! Now, let’s clean up here and see what we can find in Ardar!”

Eran Mintor reminded me of myself when I was naive, not to say he was. As I mentioned, I didn’t know him very well at the time.

And maybe he was right. Maybe my own disgruntlement was getting the best of me. Maybe it was time for me to retire and leave the fight to those with greater passion for it, though that sentiment didn’t sit well with me.

I was a firm believer in seeing things through personally to ensure they were done right. It’s not that the universe revolved around me, but mine sure did. My life’s mission was to serve the Republic. Thus far, that had been through fighting in the war.

Perhaps there was a more effective way for me to fight?