Morning Star

It’s the great dread of the Sons of Ares, the great mistake Sevro made in releasing my Carving and taking the Sons to a true war. In the shadows we could let them kill each other. We were just an idea. But Roque has made them think the thought that unites all masters who have ever been: what if the slaves take my property for their own?

When my uncle gave me my slingBlade, he said it would save my life for the price of a limb. Every miner is told that so that he knows from the first day he steps in the mine, the sacrifice is worth it. I make one now for which I may never be forgiven

“I will give you the Sons of Ares,” I say quietly. No one hears me through Roque’s continued speech. Only Mustang. “I will give you the Sons of Ares,” I repeat more loudly. Quiet falls over the table.

Romulus’s chair creaks as he leans forward. “What do you mean?”

“I told you I have no interest in the Rim. Now I will prove it. There are over three hundred and fifty Sons of Ares cells throughout your territories,” I say. “We are your dock strikes. We are the sanitation sabotage and the reason why Nessus’s streets fill with shit. Even if you hand me over to the Sovereign today, the Sons will bleed you for a thousand years. But I will give you every single Son of Ares cell in the Rim, I will abandon the lowColors here and take my crusade to the Core, never coming through the asteroid belt as long as I live if you help me kill his bloodydamn fleet.”

I stab a finger at Roque, who looks horrified.

“That is insanity,” Roque says, noting the effect my words have had. “He’s lying.”

But I’m not lying. I’ve given orders for the Sons of Ares cells to evacuate across the Rim. Not many will make it out. Thousands will be captured, tortured, killed. Thus is war, and the peril of leadership.

“Lords, the Imperator is asking you to bow,” I reply. “Aren’t you tired of that? Of groveling to a throne six hundred million kilometers from your home?” They nod. “The Sovereign says I am a threat to you. But who has bombed your cities? Who has slain a million of your people? Who kept your children hostage on Luna? Slaughtered your father and daughter on Mars? Who burned an entire moon? Was it me? Was it my people? No. Your greatest enemy is the greed of the Core. The burners of Rhea.”

“That was a different time,” Roque protests.

“It was the same woman,” I snarl and look to the Saturnian Gold to Romulus’s left who pays rapt attention. “Who burned Rhea? The Sovereign has forgotten, because her throne sits with its back toward the Rim. But you see her glassy corpse every night in your skies.”

“Rhea was a mistake,” Roque says, falling into the pitfall that Mustang helped me prepare. “One that must never be repeated.”

“Never repeated?” Mustang asks, springing the trap shut. She turns to Vela, who watches from the steps of the house with several other Ionian Golds. “Vela, my friend, may I please have my datapad?”

“Don’t play her game,” Roque says.

“My game?” Mustang asks coyly. “My game is facts, Imperator. Are those not welcome here or is rhetoric alone permissible? Personally, I trust no man who fears facts.” She looks back to Vela, amused by her own barbs. “You can operate it for me, Vela. The password is L17L6363.” She grins at my surprise.

Vela looks to her brother. “She might send a message to Barca.”

“Deactivate my connection,” Mustang says. Romulus nods to Vela. She deactivates it. “Look in datafolders, cache number 3, please.” She does. At first the quiet Gold’s eyes narrow, confused at what she’s looking at. Then, as she reads, her lips curl back and the skin on her arms pucker with goose bumps. The rest of the small gathering watches her reaction with growing anxiety. “Illuminating, isn’t it, Vela?”

“What is it?” Romulus demands. “Show us.”

Vela glares hatefully at Roque, who is as confused as anyone, and walks the device to her brother. His face manages to remain impassive as he reads the data, fingers swiping through the files. I use Cassius’s information against his master now, turning his gift into an arrow aimed at her heart. Mustang and I thought it would be better coming from her, however. Lending the lie to the credibility of her friendship with Romulus.

“Put it up,” Romulus says, tossing the datapad to Vela.

“What is this?” Roque asks angrily. “Romulus…” His words falter as an image of Asteroid S-1988, part of the Karin sub-family of the Koronis family of asteroids in the Kuiper Belt between Mars and Jupiter, blossoms in the air. It rotates slowly over the table. The green stream of data beneath it spelling the Sovereign’s doom. It’s a series of falsified Society communiqués detailing the delivery of supplies to an asteroid without a base. The stream continues to roll, detailing high-level Society directives for “refueling” at the asteroid. Then it shows the footage of the ship I sent away from the main fleet to investigate the asteroid as the rest of us journeyed to Jupiter. Reds float through the dark warehouse. The small jets on their suits silent in the vacuum. But their Geiger meters, which are synced to their helms, crackle at the amount of radiation in the place. A far greater amount of radiation than is present in the legal five megaton warheads which are used in space combat.

Romulus stares at Roque. “If Rhea was not to be repeated, then why did your fleet empty a nuclear weapons depot before coming to our orbit?”

“We did not visit the depot,” Roque says, still trying to process what he’s seen and the implications of it. The evidence is compelling. All lies are better served with a hefty helping of the truth. “The Sons of Ares pillaged it months ago. The information is falsified.” He’s operating off of the wrong information. Which means the Sovereign has kept the Jackal’s sedition tight to her chest. And now she pays for trusting so few. He’s not prepared for this argument and it shows.

“So there is a depot,” Romulus asks. Roque realizes how devastating the admission was. Romulus frowns and continues. “Imperator Fabii, why would there be a secret depot of nuclear weapons between here and Luna?”

“That’s classified.”

“Surely you jest.”

“The Societal Navy is responsible for the security of…”

“If it was for security then wouldn’t it be nearer a base?” Romulus asks. “This is near the edge of the asteroid belt on the path a fleet from Luna would use when Jupiter is in closest orbit to the sun. As if it was a cache meant to be acquired by an Imperator on the way to my home…”