It is not power that corrupts, but power without humility.
- Writings of the Sol Empress, Words of Faith
[Diego]
"That ungrateful bitch!" Diego yelled to his empty office. Snarling, he threw a crystal decanter against the far wall, shattering it into countless sparkling pieces. "I made her the Empress, and this is how she repays me!" After decades of compliance, Ali Zahara's sudden betrayal had taken Diego by surprise, even more so by her announced support of the new Empress heir.
Celeste and her children continue to torment me!
After a deep breath, he called out. "Janus, come in here."
A woman with stylish braided hair wearing a simple black dress opened the massive dark wooden doors and stepped in. "Sir?"
Standing beside his desk, Diego's eyes scanned her. She is not much to look at. While a bit too old and plain for his tastes, he had long-ago acquiesced to his predecessor's practice of choosing an administrative assistant based on job efficiency, rather than for physical or carnal attributes. Being a man of power and wealth, Diego could readily obtain those pleasures elsewhere. Janus was quite good at her job and loyal to the Trade Consortium, but also, being the daughter of a board member provided him a bit more leverage over the Board of Directors.
Diego motioned to the glass shards and pool of amber liquid that marred the polished marble floor. "Have this cleaned up." With a nod, she turned back to the door. "Wait," he said, halting her. "First, get me in contact with Mr. Bernd, full encryption. Tell him it is urgent."
"Yes, sir," she replied, closing the door behind her.
After a few minutes, a beep sounded, and a holographic image of a man appeared near the polished desk. Wearing a tight black t-shirt, he displayed the stature and muscularity of an athlete, but with the intense dark eyes of a warrior. His powerful face, with the same color as his home world sands, bore the scars of survival. He was an ambitious man, but most important to Diego, willing to do anything to rise within the Trade Consortium.
"Mr. Bernde," Diego said, standing next to the desk with a hand to his chin. "We have an Empress problem."
"Yes, sir," the image answered. "If not for Zahara, Celeste Ceil would be dead."
"What of those ships you hired?"
"One was destroyed, the other disabled and captured. The mercenaries still alive do not know who hired them, so they will not be a problem."
Diego strolled to a glass-topped side table and poured himself another drink in a cut crystal tumbler. "And what of our agent on the Arcadia, the one who failed?"
"He will be dealt with, sir."
"Very well." Diego took a sip of the clear liquor. "Despite the setbacks, we have a unique opportunity to remedy the situation." Bernd lifted an eyebrow as Diego continued. "At some point, all three of our problems — Ali, Celeste, and this new Empress — will be together at the same time. A single definitive strike will resolve the issues. Leverage our resources within Ali's organization, Mr. Bernde, and cost is no object."
"Wouldn't blame fall on the Consortium?"
Diego shook his head. "Plant evidence of Free Dawn involvement. I will work the political narrative from here."
"Yes, sir."
"This will be a defining moment in your career, Mr. Bernde. Succeed, and you will rise far in the Consortium." Diego drew down his eyebrows in a warning. "Fail, and you... Well, your life will take a turn for the worse."
Bernde hardly flinched. "Understood, sir."