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Kori’nh withdrew the crystal ceremonial dagger from his belt. The Adar stared at how the bright light shimmered from the curved cutting surface. The ache in his chest forced him to do this. The weight of Ildiran tradition, combined with his racial instinct, built inside him. He raised the sharp knife to his head and made a quick slash, a stroke so smooth it was almost gentle. He cut away his tight braid, scraping some skin but yielding no blood. He held the severed hair in his hand, but it was like a dead thing. He tossed it to the deck in disgust.

Throughout his ships, the other males were instinctively doing the same to mark their intense loss. None of them had ever lived through the passing of a Mage-Imperator before. The Solar Navy soldiers moaned as they cut off their hair, marking the end of Cyroc’h‘s reign and preparing for a new leader.

For Kori’nh, the awful emptiness and isolation were unsettling, terrifying…but as he waited for the subcommanders to join him, he realized with a start that, for the first time in his life, no one was watching over his decisions. Cyroc’h could no longer sense his tactics or disapprove of his actions.

Yes, the Adar felt adrift without comforting direction. On the other hand, he could finally take some initiative. He was free to make up his own mind. Like the human commanders MacArthur, Agamemnon, Kutuzov. It was a heady sensation.

With many possibilities.

In the warliner’s conference room, he looked at his uneasy and grieving tal and quls. All of them had shaved themselves bald. Every member of the Solar Navy remained shaken, but the Adar had to prove he could still issue orders. His officers would follow him more diligently than ever, now that they had no other anchor.

Many times, he had disagreed with the Mage-Imperator’s overall strategy. Nevertheless, he had obeyed. Many times, Kori’nh had felt like a coward because he’d been ordered to run and hide, just to avoid upsetting the deep-core aliens. Yet no matter what the Solar Navy did, the hydrogues continued their ruthless rampage.

He was the supreme commander of the Solar Navy. He had the most formidable fighting fleet the Ildiran Empire had ever built, but the Mage-Imperator had been afraid to use it.

The Earth Defense Forces had thrown themselves against the enemy repeatedly, had developed innovative new weapons. Even the gypsy Roamers, with no military force of their own, had devised daredevil tactics and innovative processing techniques to keep a trickle of fuel coming through the trade routes. Working alone, they had destroyed a hydrogue gas giant through cometary bombardment.

But the Solar Navy had done nothing.

And Adar Kori’nh was tired of being defeated. Perhaps it was time for his marvelous fleet to seek glory against the enemy. The Mage-Imperator could no longer stop him.

Sealed inside the consultation chamber, Kori’nh assessed Tal Zan’nh and his underling quls and septars in silence. He had read over their service records and understood their individual strengths and capabilities.

Zan’nh looked even more distraught than the other officers. The Mage-Imperator had been his grandfather. Prime Designate Jora’h, his father, would soon ascend and take Cyroc’h‘s place. Zan’nh himself was the Prime Designate’s firstborn, though not of pure noble kith, and so his younger brother Thor’h would become the next Prime Designate. Still, the thism strands were strong and powerful within Zan’nh. The talented tal must feel more isolated, more unsettled, than any other Ildiran in the fleet.

However, though Zan’nh was probably the best among the soldiers assembled in this battlegroup, the Adar needed to send him home.

“Tal Zan’nh, I want you to lead most of the cohort back to Ildira, all but one maniple of warliners. Take these ships home to offer our people comfort in what is certain to be a time of turmoil.” A brief moan echoed around the table, but Kori’nh ignored it, standing firm. “As soon as all the Designates can