"Sir, I don't know what I'm going to do next, but whatever duty I'm assigned, I'll do it the best I can."

"Good. Last thing we need is everyone in the damned UNEF thinking they can jump ahead quick if they do something spectacular. Most lieutenants out there think they're smarter than their COs. And sergeants think they're better soldiers than any fancy-pants lieutenant." He snorted. "Hell, the sergeants are probably right. We've already had incidents of people trying crazy Rambo shit to get noticed. So busting you back down to sergeant or private because you fuck up somehow would make my life easier, you got that?"

"Yes, sir." It was kind of what I expected to happen eventually anyway. I had no business wearing silver eagles.

"That said," Meers pondered the view outside the window, where a pair of Chickens were flying by, "I don't want you to fail. Bishop, I'm giving you fair warning that we plan on riding you like a rented mule, so if you think being a mustang colonel means you fly around and give speeches, you best put that thought right out of your head."

"Never considered it, sir." I appreciated the warning.

The next day I got started on a crash course in the responsibilities of a US Army colonel, and the protocols and etiquette for dealing with the Kristang. One of the protocols for a meeting with the Kristang was eating a bland diet starting the day before; the Kristang thought humans smelled bad, and us chowing down on meat or spicy foods made us even smellier. UNEF heard from the Ruhar that the Kristang think all other species smell bad, that humans shouldn't take it personally. What it meant for me was oatmeal and tea for breakfast instead of eggs and coffee; lunch and dinner were similarly bland and boring. Other instructions I received were not to try shaking hands with the Kristang, they didn't like us touching them at all. And not to speak unless the Kristang asked me a question. Also no smiling, the Kristang interpreted smiles as humans not taking things seriously, and the Kristang overall were not known as a jolly species.

The instructions regarding my new role as a colonel were both simple and complex. Simple because the colonel who was tasked with bringing me up to speed clearly  didn't know what UNEF planned with do with me, or whether my rank was a short-term publicity stunt, so his instructions consisted of telling me to act like an officer and not do anything that might embarrass UNEF. Complex because he emailed me an enormous series of files to read, starting with training materials a second lieutenant was supposed to know by heart. The war would be over before I read half of the crap in my inbox.