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Sian glowered and practically growled at the polar sergeant that finally turned up to collect her. He was a typical polar soldier, dressed in full battle-armour that gleamed from the daily polishing that was Polar regulation. His eyes showed the reporter that he had been in battle. Then again that was hardly a surprise. The Dragos war had ended only a few years earlier and it had been fifteen years long.

When the war had started Sian had been a junior reporter, her willingness to report from the front lines had gotten the young human noticed. She had served her own time on the front lines, with a notebook and determination as her only weapons. She had seen the fall of Dragos prime, been among the first reporters into the former capital city of the Dragos empire. She had filmed the bodies of the dead gentry, suicide or death to the uprising civilians... five years on and no-one could make up their minds what happened. There were rumours that some of the ruling classes had survived and were hiding among those who had, in the end, risen up to overthrow them.

Five years of peace and the scars of the war had touched every race, every planet and every family. It had brought the human, lapines, canines and polar together in common cause. The repercussions were still being felt, every world, every culture was changing. Sian had watch the galaxy change and reported on it all.

Her English accent coming from her father, though she was actually born on a human colony world rather than Earth. Sian's skin had a slight coppery tone, her ancestry being somewhat mixed. In her early forties she had the bearing of a woman who is fully aware that she possesses a mind sharper than most people and the confidence of someone who has shown no fear in the face of death.

She had spent hours waiting in the tiny room, a deliberate slight by the person she was there to interview. Colonel Alastair Stewart, or so his name translated, a Polar with a long and stellar military career. He had been selected as the head of the security attachment to the Unity Project. He would lead the multiracial security forces assigned to the colony.

The Unity Project. It was a nice idea, but one likely born of naiveté. Sian knew that idealistic thinking rarely amounted to much. Still a colony, a mixed colony like Unity, it was a first. Or would be if the Alliance could get it off the ground. In a few weeks the first wave of colonists would board the giant transport ship Excalibur, a human ship with a human name. However, it would transport one thousand representatives of every sentient species, well almost every species. The kodiac from Lutrai had only managed to find a handful of volunteers. Sian wondered what a paradise that world must be than they could not find one thousand people willing to leave.

All to form a colony, on a newly terraformed world. The humans and canines had tried a shared colony once, and it had brought the two peoples closer together. The hope was that the Unity colony would do just that for everyone. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. Whatever the case it was a hell of a story and Sian had managed to land interviews with each of the leaders of the project. An interview with the Colonel had been the most difficult to obtain and she had ended up going to his commanding officer, General Koralis, in a last ditch effort to secure the Colonel's cooperation. The General had seen the need for good publicity and had ordered the Colonel to take part.

Without a doubt, surreptitiously going over the head of the Colonel to snag the interview was the reason she had been made to wait for almost two hours in the stuffy, poorly lit room. A bit of quid pro quo, more or less. However, as she followed the sergeant, she smiled to herself. She had won. She'd snagged the exclusive every reporter had been drooling over ever since the movie of the Tralma massacre came out.

The polar opened a door for her and the reporter stepped into an office. It was both tidy and Spartan. There was nothing but a desk and chair, facing away from her with its sole occupant looking out the office's only window. The walls and carpet were a dull military grey colour. A small table on the side of the room had a polar sword mounted on a display. The high back of the chair blocked out all but the back of the Colonel's head.

The reporter pulled out her camera, a small floating device. She could have brought a smaller version, some cameras are so small they can almost be forgotten. However, she was a reporter and her camera was a wonderful weapon, it could strike fear into the hearts of the unprepared and evasive interviewee. This version was just a few centimetres across but hovered at eye level, dipping in and out of the field of vision, it put many people off and sometimes led to slip-ups that provided great headlines.

"Colonel Stewart, thank you for agreeing to my..." Sian stated to say, figuring that she had waited long enough in the waiting room and would be damned if she would wait any longer to start her interview.

"I agreed to nothing..." the polar growled at her. There was something off about the bear's voice. However, Sian could not put a finger on what and as the chair swivelled around and her scoop turned to face her, she momentarily forgot about it. He was short for a polar, dressed in a polar military uniform, pure white with gold trim. No medals or any embellishments, just the plain officer's uniform with a rank insignia. "I was ordered to answer your questions, so ask them and be done with it." His face held no scars, though she knew he'd seen battle many time. Twenty-two years in the Polar military, including twelve in Polar Special Forces and five years as a General before his demotion.

Some reporters, and certainly most people, would be rattled by a polar snarling at them. However, Sian had reported from battlefields, while the battle still raged around her. It would take more than an angry polar to put her off her game and as he spoke the odd thing about his voice suddenly hit her. "You speak English?" Most aliens communicated through a translator device. Hearing words spoken in one's own language was rare, almost no-one bothered to learn alien languages; the translator technology had rendered the study of xeno-languages moot.

"Yes, I figured it would only be polite to address you in your own language. I actually speak thirty-two different languages. Lupine is the most difficult, it hurts my throat." The bear replied, the growl dropping out of his voice as he nodded in appreciation. Not many would have noticed the subtle change in the information their brain was receiving and if there was one thing the Colonel appreciated, it was a person intelligent enough to spot the finer details. "I'm currently learning the Dragos underclass tongue. It also hurts my throat. I am, as you would say in English, a regular polyglot... a lovely word. I rather enjoy English, especially the swearing. The language has some splendidly short and yet powerful swear words, cunt for example. To most races the female reproductive organ is just that, and, to many, a cause for delight. Yet in English, it is a short, powerful vulgarity... but it feels right in the mouth, dirty and foul. You can really spit it out, a real good swearword you don't say you spit, cunt, cunnnt! It works so well in almost any circumstance don't you find?"

Sian was a taken back by the not-so-subtle shot the Polar took at her. Of course, had the shoe been on the other foot and her editor had ordered her to do something against her will, she'd likely do the same. "Actually I try not to swear."

"Oh, well maybe it's my years in the military but I find a good loud swear cathartic," the bear replied with a confident grin.

The human resisted the urge to roll her eyes, the polar was clearly trying to provoke a reaction from her. "Indeed. Now I'd like to ask, what prompted you to participate in the unity project?"

"Bollocks, there's another wonderful English swear word. You humans really do like throwing your genitals in each other's faces. This time I refer to the male testicles, only the implication is you are lying. Still it's another good swear, another one you can spit between gritted teeth, while I point out that is not the question you'd like to ask."The old bear leaned back in his chair and for the first time Sian noted his size, his height had to be just six foot, if that. She had never met a polar so small. "You are the first reporter ever to get an interview with me, since the battle at Tralma. If you are even marginally decent at your job, you'll want to ask about that. Now stop insulting my intelligence and ask what you want to ask so I can get on with my job.."

Shrugging her shoulders the reporter was not going to even pretend the bear was wrong, "Very well, it's been six years since the massacre of Tralma..."

"It was no Massacre, it was a battle!" Half-shouted the bear, his voice a deep snarl, his paws slamming onto the table with thuds that echoed around the room as he rose to his feet. "One thousand seven hundred and eighteen polar gave their lives to protect a refugee column of over ten thousand. They gave their lives for the greater good; they kept their promise."

"I meant no disrespect, however, you led two thousand of your soldiers against fifteen thousand Dragos troops, with a full armoured division for support. The battle is considered by many to be a massacre. May I ask why you did not follow the last orders your command gave you and withdraw your men?" The reporter asked, noting the lack of a chair for her to sit in. The old bear really wanted her out quickly, he wasn't even going to offer her the minor comfort of a seat.

"Why? You ask me why? Hmmm maybe this Unity project is a good idea after all, if you need to ask that question then clearly the people of this galaxy do not know who the Polar really are. Let me show you something." The bear leapt to his feet, with speed and grace belying the size of his portly polar body. He stepped to the small table and picked up the sword. Turning he tipped the blade onto his desk. It was broken in half about halfway down, the blade was three foot long and quite broad. Polar writing ran the length of the blade. "My sword of command, made of Polar steel. As every Polar general does, I climbed down the two kilometres of ice to the heart of my world to harvest the ore to forge this sword with my own paws. One in three General candidates do not survive the climb into the crevasse at Kalmidor. It was broken after the battle, when I was demoted it can never be re-forged and I will never be permitted to make the descent a second time." The general ran his fingers along the sword's shattered edge, his expression flickering with nostalgic grief. "If you look on the blade you will see the answer to your question, etched there forever."

The woman leaned over the broken metal, reaching out to run her fingers along the blade. It felt cool to her touch, the metal far more blue than silver. "I don't think my translator can handle these words."

"It's ancient Kelvis Polar, the oldest, of the polar languages, now dead. It says 'never the innocent'," the bear replied turning to glance out of the window as he continued. "That is the promise all polar make when they are conscripted, the oath we all take: 'all may come to harm, but never the innocent, while I stand with strength in my body.'"

"This is why you led your men into a battle that could not be won?" Sian asked, her voice quiet as she ran her fingers over the words again.

"Yes. We won the battle. We bought the time that was needed, though the cost was high," admitted the bear with a sigh.

"A high cost for you personally, in the movie they had your son die fighting at your back, is there any truth to that?" Sian had asked many questions in her career, and reflecting on it later, she couldn't think of any as far past the line of decency as that one, but she did not regret asking it.

"Movies are stories. They are told to invoke emotional responses. It is nice for the viewer to think of a father and son fighting an impossible fight, back to back... the truth is my son was a conscript on his year's service. He was just one of many troopers and, to my everlasting regret, I did not speak to him before or during the battle. I saw him three days before and a month later, when we finally returned to reclaim our dead." The old bear was no longer looking at the human. He barely seemed to be aware he was not alone, his voice was so low that Sian could only just make out his words. "He was never meant to be a soldier you know. He was an artist... he had a gift for colour, something rare for my people. I never wanted him to go to battle, but like all polar he did his duty without question. He died defending the innocent and I am proud... Proud! Of my son and everyone who died with him.

My wife divorced me the day I brought his body home I... wasn't allowed to attend his funeral pyre. I can't say I blame her. I could have sent his squad away; it would have only taken a minor abuse of my command to do so. Of course, to follow that order his squad would have been breaking the soldier's promise."

The bear stood silent for a few moments before turning to the reporter, "I broke the soldier's promise once, by blindly following an order and it haunts me to this day. I treated him as he asked me to treat him, as any other soldier under my command. I gave the orders to charge, knowing that we could buy the refugee column time to escape. Two thousand polar in full battle armour charging the enemy... no movie can do that justice, no story writer can capture the truth of that fight."

"How did you feel the next day when you found out the reports on the refugee column were an error and all your men died for nothing?" Sian asked and hated herself for asking it, however, she knew that as a reporter she had her own duty to the truth, and this sometimes meant she had to ask some very difficult questions.

The human braced herself for a hateful and possibly even violent response. However, the bear did not blink, he just shrugged his shoulders. "They died believing their actions were saving the lives of thousands of innocents, some would say that was not for nothing. I had no way to know, I made the only decision I could on the information I had. Would I do it different, knowing then what I know now, of course. However, I disobeyed my orders to keep a higher promise and for that I offer no apologies."

"Do you expect to gain some kind of forgiveness or absolution by participating in the Unity Project?" The human asked, circling the interview back to her original question.

"Absolution? I ask for and expect no forgiveness. I made a call and that is all any of us can do, make the call and hope that we make the right one." Replied the Colonel as he put his sword back into its sheath. "I was demoted for making the wrong call, for disobeying an order. It cost me the lives of one thousand seven hundred and eighteen, brave, honourable and noble soldiers. It cost me the life of my son. There is no absolution for me and I would not ask for it if there was."

"Then why are you participating in the Unity Project?" Sian asked, confused.

A smile spread across the bear's face and then he began to laugh a deep rumbling belly laugh. After a minute he shook his head, "oh you humans, everyone has to have some grand motive to do anything don't they? Well I don't, I am participating because I am a soldier and I was ordered to do so. I will protect the colonists of Unity with my men, and my very life itself if need be. I will not break the soldier's promise again."

"Again? I thought you said you did not break it by ordering the charge at Tralma?" The reporter's sharp mind caught the little discrepancy quickly and she asked the question before she really even knew what she was asking.

"Indeed, it was years ago, but I have orders not to discuss that." The bear said returning to his chair.

"You can talk about Tralma, but not this other incident?" Asked Sian in a dubious tone, she had been promised full disclosure.

"Indeed, now your ten minutes are up, this interview is over," replied the Colonel with a wave of his paw towards the door. Turning, the reporter noticed the Sergeant from earlier standing in the doorway waiting to escort her out.

"Well, thank you for you time, it was an interesting, if a bit short, interview." Sian said curtly turning to leave, her camera floating after her. As the door to the office closed behind her she asked the Sergeant, "have you served under the Colonel long?"

"Yes Miss," came the short but succinct reply of the old soldier.

"Were you there at Tralma?" She asked as they walked, maybe it was personal and potentially painful for the old bear to be asked such questions, but she didn't make it as a journalist by putting people feelings first. Though she always made sure to edit the recordings to imply that she did.

The bear paused and turned to face her, then he reached across with his right arm and grasped his left wrist, with a twist his entire left arm popped off. "Yes Miss, that's where I lost my arm Miss," he replied holding it up to her and waving the lifeless arm for emphasis. Sian couldn't help but note the mischievous glint in the bear's eye. She knew this was his way of trying to get her to stop asking questions, but it would take a lot more than that.

"Were you there when he broke the soldier's promise?" Sian tried to put the question in as casual tone as she could, hoping it sounded like she already knew the details and he would spill more.

The bear glanced at the camera and smiled, before he reattached his arm and used it to wave ahead of them. "Exit's this way, Miss."

"You're not going to answer any more questions for me are you?"

"No, Miss."

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