Chapter 1

It’s amazing how much work one will do to avoid working.

That’s my life.

House Smithers is a tradition bound House. The oldest male heir is supposed to take over the House. Holdings on 32 different worlds, including major holdings on eight core worlds. The “Smithers Sector” is alive and well. The head of the Smithers House is expected to make major decisions that affect the lives of billions, be one of the sharpest minds of the galaxy, dine at nothing but the best five star restaurants, and make complex financial maneuvers and mergers look effortless. If one does not grow one’s holdings by a factor of at least two in their lifetime, they get the dreaded “failed to live up to their and the House’s demands”. Notation in the House records. Laments are written about all the chances missed.

Which is why I stashed away a cool half billion credits in anonymous trading accounts, bought myself a ship that runs itself, slipped into the Spaceways and went completely anonymous on the day after my 21st birthday, where I was officially named House Heir. With all the requisite speeches being given about how my “maverick days” had come to an end, and it was time to put my “nose to the grindstone” and “live up to the House’s expectations of me”.

Only stands to reason, you know?

First of all, I would consider myself to be pretty smart, but not the smartest. I would finish top 15 or so in my class. That’s still pretty damn good, mind you, but my family would try to hide their disappointment and mention about how “Uncle Englebrink was the class valedictorian in two schools at the same age!” but say I had done “adequate. I guess.” It didn’t help that I was constantly getting minor dings on my cadet honor record for things like “Minor conduct unbecoming a cadet of Thayler Academy” for managing to make a completely unauthorized flyby of the Commandant’s pool-party, or “Exceeding the bounds of a planned military exercise”. That was a good one. We were supposed to spend 72 hours in a field operation where the winner was decided by least manpower expended (read: Sim-killed), where the instructors would spend the next week nitpicking any and all tactical decisions made. I decided that I was going to turn it all on its head, set up robo-defenses to give the Red Team side something to play with as they schlepped it around in the field (with no creature comforts, natch), and hired a robot truck to take us all into the city for 72 hours at the Sector fun-dome. I think the Sergeants were more upset they didn’t get an invite then my audacity. There was nothing in my orders that forbade it, they just thought that I was going to do what they expected to. I mean, we won the exercise ... the win condition was manpower expended, and even though Robo-defenses lack imagination, they certainly expended more of the Red Team’s manpower then Blue Team did ... although I still claim one of Blue Team should have been listed as expended, as he couldn’t get the smile off his face for two weeks, despite being found in a pile of Pleasure-Ladies by two rather exasperated senior instructors trying to find out why he had missed Role Call. I mean, he was certainly “expended” you know? Besides, the cadet-Looey (Lieutenant) in charge should have caught it, but he couldn’t find his ass with two hands, a nova flashlight, and his own butler. No plan survives contact with the enemy, and for me, Boredom and being told what to do is my enemy, so they should’ve known that I’d change the plan.

Needless to say, I got every shit detail for months after that. But you know what? It was worth it for two reasons. One, they never put me in command of a major field exercise again, and two, I’m pretty sure the stories about the “Weekend at Bordello’s” will long out last my presence there. One does have to leave their mark in the Universe.

I could have ended up top 5 without those minor dings on my Academy record. Then again, if I had been caught at some of the OTHER stuff I did, I probably would have been drummed out of the Academy, House Heir or not. For example, at the very top, TOP, TOP!!!!!! of the list of the unwritten rules of Thayler Academy, is “Thou shall not fornicate with the Commandant’s daughter.”. Actually, I think it’s “Thou shall not Lust against the Commandant’s Daughter” but I think that any lusts we had for each other were quite sated, thank you very much! If it wasn’t for the efforts of a classmate who was VERY good at editing video records, I’m pretty sure the vid-cubes of THAT bit would lead to a scandal across all the House worlds.

Let’s face it. I’m exactly the kind of person that doesn’t WANT to be House Heir, and more succinctly, SHOULDN’T be House Heir. Because the Federation is built upon all those unwritten rules. And those unwritten rules have a REASON to be unwritten, precisely because people like me with more Moxie than tact would take them as a challenge to break them and get away with it, and sooner or later, I wouldn’t, and then that would be a major loss of face for my House. If not an interstellar war, now that I think about it. Besides, I think that “Designate your younger sister to be your proxy in House matters, take off in a ship your family (and therefore your House) didn’t know you owned is an unwritten rule. If it was written, it would have been a shame to break it” sums up matters really well right? I mean. We’re not talking about a square peg in a round hole, we’re talking about a dodecahedron shaped peg in a black hole.

So I make my “living” with a fully tricked out Henderson class ship. Honestly, if the laws about AI piloting ships were relaxed, it could pilot itself across the known Universe. That’s a fact Becky (my ships AI) doesn’t hesitate to remind me, if I make the tiniest bit of error in my plotting, or my planning. Yes, my AI has a name. Depending on what kinda mood she’s in, it’s either “Beautiful Becky”, or “Bitchin Becky” if she’s complaining. Here’s a hint: She’s Bitchin Becky a lot. Like just recently, when I had come up with a cargo design that would have put a flock of Traygul birds, and Henson lizards in the same cargo bay. Who knew that when introduced in the same biosphere, that both would try to eat each other, and make a godawful racket while doing so? Thankfully, she caught it in time, and warned me before one half of my cargo tried to eat the other half. Not to mention the sounds! Then again, I don’t think it was strictly necessary for Becky to play that sound effect at me for the next two weeks when ever she wanted to get my attention.