"You will be fine, Admiral Thompson. We are here to help you." Did you just say Admiral? I don't have a fleet and I am definitely not able to lead one..." Yes, I did. You are the senior officer, and since we have no one to promote you, I lifted you to the top of the 'food chain'. You are now War Fleet Admiral Kenneth Andrew Thompson, Federation Navy, Commander and Chief of all defenses of Terra and the Sol System. You will need the rank when we have more ships. Washington will be your command. He followed the guy inside to an immaculate place, well decorated then was led to a long overstuffed sofa. ‘Beer?’ the man disappeared for a few seconds then reappeared carrying two bottles of beer. Art set his coat off to the side and accepted the beer. ‘Relax. You ready to earn your pay?’ The guy sat close and his hand reached out to stroke Art’s thigh. His head was swimming with questions, but no words seemed to reach his mouth. Art took a long swig of beer as his hand reached his balls then. More

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