Kufar Sho’Tan stared at the military men with a severe, hostile gaze. The wealthy industrialist’s emerald eyes glittered unnaturally; the product of cosmetic genetic engineering common among the Imperium’s upper classes. The 52-year-old Duceps of Sector 5 looked like he was in his late thirties. He sported slick, forest green hair and aquiline features that radiated a cold-yet-handsome nobility. With an expensive black suit, trimmed with gold, the man was the picture of power and prestige. He contrasted sharply with the older, more bookish-looking Norlow, like a hawk in its prime staring down an ailing owl. Despite that, the Deputy Commander stood his ground. When it came to Imperial security, Norlow wouldn’t fold easily: “With respect to the Duceps, I have told you no lie. The reports of my men are valid and reliable. They-“

  “I am not doubting the reports of your men.”

  Sho’Tan interrupted, voice cracking like a whip across the conference room: “What I doubt is all this fearmongering about future attacks. You dig up bogeymen from history in a plea for exactly what you are always demanding. More resources, more weapons, more manpower. What is to say that these ‘Kharnidd’ are numerous enough to represent a major threat? The war just ended, and now you recommend we balloon the military’s size even beyond current recovery rates? Preposterous!”

  It should be noted that the Sho’Tan Clan was notorious for producing some of the finest captains of industry and business in the entire Imperium, with Kufar being the wealthiest of them all. The Empire’s industrial base was predominantly in Sector 5, and they owned many businesses and banks outside the Sector as well. In theory, that would make the Sho’Tan natural warmongers, since war was such big business, but there was a catch. Imperial regulations insisted that all manufacturers sold to the military at a significantly reduced rate. They typically earned minimal profits on weapons and other military tech, meaning that the Sho’Tan preferred manufacturing the more lucrative consumer devices. But when they received properly authorized orders for more weapons from the military, they had no choice but to obey.

  The regulation wasn’t a moral stance against war profiteering, but rather the result of the Emperor placing more power in the hands of the military. The indirect outcome of this was that the Duceps of Sector 5 was usually the most anti-war of any council member, for purely selfish reasons.

  “Come now, Kufar. Deputy Commander Norlow and Commander Oran are just doing their jobs. Or have you grown so desperate to line your pockets that you truly no longer care about Imperial security?”, Chekta Brekinar’s voice came out smooth and low, reverberating like the plucked string of a double bass. He was the direct opposite of the industrialist in many ways. Tall, broad, and dark, where the businessman was average-sized and fair-skinned, Chekta bore no apparent signs of any unusual cosmetic gene alterations. The big man’s natural black eyes stared steadily at his longtime opponent, his features not quite as perfect but very masculine and well defined. The Brekinar family was one of the Three Military Clans and had produced some of the best brawlers and soldiers the Imperium had ever seen. Even among the military Duceps, Chekta was especially cynical and liable to support any bonuses the armed forces could get, whether the threat was real or not.

  Soon, a new voice was added to the fray: “Isn’t that rather self-serving, Chekta? Kufar may be a greedy little snake, but his doubts are quite reasonable.”

  This voice was bright and feminine, pleasant to the ears, but with a teasing and sarcastic lilt. Haeli Korta, Duceps of Sector 6, was widely considered one of the most beautiful women in the Empire. Her long golden hair and bright blue eyes were so perfect that they shone with an enigmatic light, her features sharp enough to be striking but smooth enough to retain a sense of femininity. While she didn’t look terribly dangerous, usually emitting a playful attitude, everyone in the room was intelligent enough to take her seriously. The Korta Clan produced some of the best doctors, lawyers, bureaucrats, and diplomats in the Empire. Haeli herself had once been the Imperial diplomat, and the diplomatic victory her Clan had scored in the recent conflict was something she treasured. Risking it by rearming too quickly and alarming their enemies was not a prospect she relished. And, unlike Kufar, who usually couldn’t see past his wallet, she was sincere in her skepticism about the severity of this new threat.

  Steadily, most of the others chimed in with their opinions. Minrak Goraka, a heavyset white man with flaming red hair and shining orange eyes, threw his weight behind Chekta. As everyone knew he would. The Goraka Clan produced some of the best marksmen, pilots, and naval operators in the Imperium, earning their title as the second of the Three Military Clans. Ever combative, he pounded the table and insisted that the military rise to meet this looming enemy. Unlike Chekta, Minrak wasn’t a political animal. The Duceps of Sector 4 was sincere in his bellicosity. He’d never seen a threat, real or imagined, that he didn’t want to blast to smithereens.

  Noro Toshak, on the other hand, was always a cautious voice: “We must take seriously the threat to peace an unusually quick rearmament would represent. War is an impediment to true science and is not something to be risked hastily. Especially considering the lack of truly solid information on Kharnidd numbers and capabilities.”

  The Duceps of Sector 2 was the head of a Clan of scientists, having originally derived their name from the legendary Aeterna scientist, Novik Toshak. Frizzy brown hair and tan skin framed intelligent yellow eyes that blinked softly as they scanned the room. The scientist was swiftly contradicted by a sixth voice: “That kind of caution in the face of a credible threat is tantamount to cowardice. A fool’s game.”

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  Hahkta Kufal was a thin man with a sharp, Asiatic appearance. He was similar to Chekta in that his features were more organic, with brown eyes and black hair cut in military style. Clan Kufal was well known for producing spies and hackers, masters of information and intrigue. While not one of the Three Military Clans, the Kufal were sensitive to rumors of any foreign threat. Hahkta’s information network had already informed him of the Kharnidd threat in advance of the meeting, and he had preemptively decided to support cautionary measures. Within reason, of course.

  These six remained the loudest voices in the meeting, and they argued for some time to no avail. Seeking support, Noro Toshak’s citrine eyes landed on one of the two remaining undecided Duceps: “What do you think, Maelo? You’ve been rather quiet.”

  “Heh?”

  Maelo Co’Trak, Duceps of Sector 8, made a soft, startled noise before looking around, whiteish pink eyes blinking in surprise. The pale, dark-haired man had been staring vacantly into the distance, and now he was clearly uncomfortable to have everyone’s attention on him. A writer by trade, Co’Trak came from a long line of artists, journalists, and propagandists. Many common citizens viewed his Clan as the weakest, as it was certainly the poorest and the least powerful militarily. But everyone at this meeting, even relative simpletons like Goraka, recognized the importance of the Clan’s soft power. That didn’t ease their exasperation as they watched the absent-minded author look around uncertainly, nervously stroking his goatee. Finally, he spoke: “Ehhhh, this one is a little out of my wheelhouse. Can’t say I’m eager for war again, but I do trust old man Seth. What do you think, Cu’Leia?”

  Everyone immediately turned to look at the final Duceps who’d remained silent. She was also staring into thin air but showed no surprise or discomfort at suddenly being the center of attention. Instead, she slowly looked down and turned to face her peers, eyes steady and calm. Cu’Leia Fallanir was arguably the strangest Duceps of all, both in terms of looks and personality. She was exceptionally youthful, appearing to be a beautiful woman in her early twenties despite being in her low forties at the least. Her pallid face was framed by silver hair that glittered ethereally in the lowlight. Amethyst eyes flickered intelligently from face to face as she examined her colleagues, before finally settling to gaze upon Norlow. The Deputy Commander did his best to meet those eyes, projecting confidence in his theory and ideas as she began to speak: “Deputy Commander. If you were advising the Kharnidd, what would you tell them to do?”

  Her voice was clear and cold, like the first breeze of winter. Cu’Leia’s question was no less jarring. Norlow broke eye contact, letting out a surprised cough, then ventured a response: “Should I answer that as the Deputy Commander of the Federation, or a Kharnidd advisor?”

  He hated to answer a question with a question, but this was important. Was he being asked about the best possible strategy for the Kharnidd, knowing what he knew? Or was he being asked to discern what he would tell the Kharnidd to do if he were limited to their knowledge? The question prompted a small smile and a nod of approval from the ice queen before she answered: “Answer it like you’re a double agent, Commander Norlow.”

  The older man took a moment to think about the question, but the more he thought, the more his stomach churned. There was an honest answer, but giving it wouldn’t help his case. After an internal war, he tentatively answered: “I would advise them to remain an uncertain threat. Focus on Imperial Pioneer squads and limit our ability to recover. When we inevitably increase our rearmament efforts to compensate, it will strain our tender relationship with the Coalition. It would only be a matter of time before the Republic, Oligarchy, and Confederation decide they need to join the “arms race”. We would be in no position to attack them, since the Kharnidd would be bleeding us dry, but the same couldn’t be said for the Coalition. Eventually, they’d likely try their hands at reconquering old territory, which they would find much easier than they’d expected. They’d keep pushing, and the Imperium would find itself in a two-front war it would undoubtedly lose.

  After that war, humanity would be extremely weak. Easy pickings for the bulk of the Kharnidd forces. Total annihilation would be on the table.”

  This monologue earned Norlow some gasps and a few suspicious glares from several of the Duceps. He couldn’t say he was surprised. According to his plan, the Imperium would only be playing into the hands of the Kharnidd if they redoubled their re-armament efforts now. For obvious reasons, though, Norlow hadn’t been considering this matter with the notion that he was feeding information to the Kharnidd. Unlike the rest of the council, Cu’Leia only gave a satisfied smile when he finished his answer, saying: “Preying on humanity’s divisions when we should be united. A good plan. And an intelligent and honest answer. Yet you aren’t a spy, are you, Deputy Commander?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “And this plan relies on the Kharnidd only focusing on the Imperium, correct?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She then looked over at Hahkta Kufal: “Are the Kharnidd attacking the others?”

  He frowned and nodded: “Yes, they are. My sources indicate that the other nations have been experiencing similar attacks to our own.”

  She turned back to Norlow: “And what does that likely mean, Commander?”

  “…That the Kharnidd either don’t know or don’t care about how divided humanity is. They’re testing our combat abilities. Depending on the results of those tests, they could do different things, but my analysts argue that a larger attack is the most likely.”

  The Duceps of Sector 1 nodded in agreement. She was the head of the last of the Three Military Clans, but unlike the other two, the Fallanir specialized in tactics and strategy. Despite his humble background, Seth’s mentor had been a Fallanir. Their Duceps had a reputation for being enigmatic but rational, making decisions that might seem bizarre sometimes but that usually worked out well for the Imperium. And now, she backed his proposal: “Then let’s prepare for a larger attack.”

  Maelo chimed in with his agreement, and the three other holdouts nodded in begrudging acceptance. They weren’t happy about it, but they would follow the majority’s decision. The Duceps’ subordinates would hammer out the exact supporting details later. For now, they moved on to another matter. Hahkta took control of the central Holodisc, projecting a large Ocean planet in the center of the table: “I would call attention to another matter of interest. My sources report a downed Republic ship on E2555…”