Tyler’s grandfather had been more than a hero…to the people of the Confederation he was the hero. Tyler had loved the old man for as long as he could remember, and he’d grown up as awed by the great admiral as everyone else. But he had other memories too, fonder ones. Fishing trips and long walks through the woods, days the two had spent together with not a word spoken of battles fought and glorious victories won.

Still, the legend of Admiral Barron had proven to be inescapable, and the family reputation had dogged him from his first day at the Academy, enough to induce him to go by his middle name instead of being the family’s fourth Rance to serve the fleet. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t being rated against the older Barron or when he’d last received praise that didn’t compare him in some way, favorable or otherwise, to his grandfather.

Tyler had endured such comparisons since childhood, but they had only become worse after the old man died in the last war, and he passed from living hero to deceased legend. Compliments like, “that was how your grandfather would have done it,” had come to grate on him, like an unpleasant squeak. And the worst part was, the frustration seeped into his memories, dulling fond images of a grandfather he’d loved dearly and creating resentments he regretted but felt nevertheless.

Tyler had mourned his grandfather’s death even as he endured the increased attention it brought upon him…and he did his best to live up to the pressure to follow in the great man’s footsteps. He carried the weight all the more for the loss of the father he had hardly known. Rance III died in a reactor accident years before, when he was still a junior officer, leaving the heavy expectations of an adoring and demanding Confederation on the shoulders of his three-year old son.

It had been a heavy burden for a young child, and for the cadet he became…and it remained so even for a seasoned captain. Ironheart Barron was a tough act to follow, and with war imminent, things had only become more intense.

“Lieutenant Darrow, you may distribute the mail and personal communications to their recipients. And forward housekeeping communication to the appropriate department heads.” Barron was a hands on captain, but he didn’t feel the need to poke his nose into updated equipment specs and reactor cooling rod process modifications. Rank had its privileges, and one of them was delegating at least some of the boring nonsense to someone else.

“Yes, Captain.”

Barron’s eyes focused on one of the items addressed to him. Orders.