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Madeline nodded. The Empire wasn’t particularly racist, at least where humans were concerned; it was a nonsensical concept when skin colour could be changed as easily as a suit of clothes. Madeline herself, in her younger days, had been black, then green, then orange and finally palest white, all in line with the dictates of the fashion gurus of the High City. Aliens, however, were a different story. After the Dathi War and centuries of anti-alien propaganda, the average human detested and loathed the eight known alien races within the Empire, although very few had actually met an alien in person. The rebels might have spoken in terms of taking humanity’s collective boot off the aliens’ collective neck, but it would horrify billions of people, while raising unreasonable expectations in the minds of aliens that remembered, however dimly, a universe that had had no humans. Would they do unto humanity as humanity had done unto them?

It wasn’t a minor fear. No one knew what had driven the Dathi to their war, but everyone knew that it had meant certain death for the human race… and every human world they encountered. A thousand years after the last Dathi had been exterminated, the scars of the war still resounded in humanity’s soul, a memory of the time when humanity had united into the Empire. No one would do anything to risk another war on such a scale… except, perhaps, the rebels.

“And if they don’t?” Stacy demanded. She didn’t understand. “Why should they?”

“There are a thousand worlds, give or take a few hundred, that are probably on the verge of seeking independence,” Wilhelm drawled, lazily. “The first-rank worlds will want to turn their autonomy into real independence. The second-rank worlds will want to speed up their progress towards first-rank. The third-rank worlds will merely want to be rid of the overseers and supervisors.” He shrugged. “If the rebels move to squash us, and they could, they will convince others that they’re going to be forced to remain where they are, or worse. After all, the autonomy of the first-rank worlds was broken at Gaul, wasn’t it?”

Madeline kept her face blank through long experience. She had played a major role in the decision — flawed, she saw now — to order Gaul, a first-rank autonomous worlds, scorched for harbouring contacts with the rebels. The Battle of Gaul had been a disaster of the first-rank — she smiled bitterly at the pun — and convinced the remaining first-rank worlds that the Empire had become a mad dog and needed to be put down, regardless of the cost. They’d added their forces, as primitive and weak as they were, to the rebel Shadow Fleet… and brought down Home Fleet in a pitched battle in the solar system. It had been unbelievable, but the core of the Empire had been defeated… and she’d had to run and hide.

Wilhelm took her silence for assent. “They’re done something they shouldn’t have done and allowed billions of people to develop expectations of what’s going to happen in the new order,” he continued. “That’s going to ensure that the steady decline of the Empire becomes a collapse, unless they lock the brakes on tight, and if they do that… they’re going to have several rebellions on their hands. They really need time to let the air out gradually and reshape the Empire, but we’re not going to give them that time. In a year or two, maybe less, people are going to start asking why they even bothered to rebel at all?”

“I remain unconvinced,” Stacy said, finally. She glared up at the display, showing the best guesses as to the location and disposition of rebel forces, as if it were a personal enemy. “We should launch an immediate strike against…”

“And you will be silent,” Wilhelm said, pleasantly. His tone brought her up short. Even she couldn’t miss the underlying threat. “Your incompetence cost the Imperial Navy its only chance of nipping the rebellion in the bud. You will be silent unless you are spoken to, or you will be removed to far less pleasant accommodation — Butcher, perhaps.”

Stacy stared at him. Butcher was a penal world, one where the plants and most of the animals were implacable hostile to the human settlers, forcing the colonists — mainly criminals and rebels — to fight constantly for survival. The plants might not have been intelligent, although the researchers were uncertain on that score, but they certainly enjoyed eating human flesh. Butcher had a horrific reputation and a constant appetite for new victims — quite literally. It didn’t help that the plants were thoroughly inedible and poisonous. The handful of people who ate them died in screaming agony.

“I will…”

She turned, abruptly, and left the chamber. Madeline smiled to herself. For the first time since her father had died, someone had actually managed to get through to Stacy and convince her of her proper place in the universe. Her hard core had shattered, revealing the coward underneath. Wilhelm had a loyal command staff and complete authority over the system. He could do anything to her and, now, they both knew it.

“Well done,” Madeline said, finally. She wondered, grimly, if the underlying lesson was intended for her. Stacy couldn’t be a threat — her very incompetence worked against her — but she was something different, wasn’t she? “You actually got her to sit up and pay attention.”

“Yes,” Wilhelm said. His next words left her in no doubt. “And I expect you to pay attention as well. How many other operations have been… compromised because of a high-ranking idiot with connections to the right people?”

Madeline hesitated. “I have no idea,” she said, finally. She took a wild guess. “A dozen?”

“Try thousands,” Wilhelm said, smiling coldly. “From the start of the rebellion itself to the decision to scorch Gaul, a person with more connections than brain cells managed to take an operation that should have worked properly and destroyed it, dead in its tracks. If rebel propaganda is to be believed, everyone who took part in the early mutinies was thoroughly pissed on by their superiors, high-ranking idiots all.”

He leaned towards her, his cold eyes holding hers. “I will not allow that to happen here,” he said. She hadn’t realised that he could command such… presence. “I will not allow you, or Stacy, whose test scores suggested that she wasn’t fit to command a garbage scow, to damage this operation. You will offer your advice, but I will be in command of the entire operation. If I catch you attempting to sabotage it in any way, I will make you wish that you had remained behind on Earth, understand?”

Madeline caught herself. She wasn’t used to facing pressure, not so close and personal. The Clan had been her protection, her sword and her shield, safeguarding her from the realities of the universe and ensuring that she was never threatened… until the rebellion came and displaced her from her rightful place. Pride, sheer damned pride, kept her facing him. The urge to just surrender was almost overwhelming, backed up by fear of the possible consequences, but she couldn’t — she wouldn’t — give in.

“The Hohenzollern Clan made you,” she protested, weakly. It sounded weak even to her, the voice of a little girl trying to protest to her mother. “We brought you up from nothing and made you our…”

“Slave,” Wilhelm interrupted. “You made me your slave, fit only to scrape and bow before you, but now… now you need me, more than I need you.” Madeline remembered her thoughts — it seemed like hours ago — and winced inwardly. “You will obey me and I will place you back where you belong, or you can try to rebel against me… and believe me, that won’t be easy.”

It wouldn’t be, Madeline knew. Wilhelm had worked hard in the months since hearing of the rebellion… and, she realised now, must have had something like this in mind all along. He’d managed to replace or reassign junior officers who were equally dependent on the Hohenzollern Clan, or other elements of the Thousand Families, and had ensured that they were replaced with people who were loyal to him, their patron. In the old days, he could still be handled, countered, or replaced, but now… now, the entire Empire was up for grabs. A competent officer in his position could go far.