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'Now, however - now it is time for the rest of us to make sacrifices.' He looked into the imagers and at the stricken crowd. 'This is the most dangerous time Earth has ever faced. Though the hydrogues are defeated, we are beset by enemies, some of them traitors that we once considered our own brothers. But the Hansa can be strong again! We must reunite the worlds that have gone astray. We must use every resource to rebuild. We thought we knew hard work before. Now we must demand even more from ourselves!'

He and Cain had worked out those euphemisms, which meant higher taxes, lower wages, and severe rationing. 'I am your Chairman! And as your Chairman I make this promise to you: Our civilization will be great again!' He turned smartly around and stepped down from the temporary stage, followed by Deputy Cain.

He stood among his military advisers while the newsnets continued to take images. He shook the admirals' hands, thanked them, and said in a quiet voice, 'Meet me in the war room back at Hansa HQ. We need to discuss our first military strikes against the rebels.'

* * * * *

Admiral Sheila Willis, a salty old woman with a hard voice but a grandmotherly demeanour, rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Around them, the tactical planning screens no longer showed incoming warglobes or massive EDF ships engaged in battle. There was no coffee or food, not even a pitcher of ice water. This meeting was all business, not a social occasion.

I'm concerned about this alleged “military action”, Mr Chairman,' Willis said. 'How in the world are we going to go on the offensive when we can't even count how many functional ships we have?'

'We may be in turmoil, Admiral, but so is everyone else. If we strike now, Peter won't expect it.' Basil paced the length of the table, passing the now-empty tactical stations. He didn't like to have his back to the door.

'If we strike now, we don't have anything to strike with,' she said. 'Believe me, it is not a good idea.'

'That's dangerously close to insubordination, Admiral.'

Willis blinked at him. 'Excuse me, sir? I am one of your few remaining qualified experts, and this is a private meeting to discuss tactical matters. I don't insist that you take my advice, but you should at least listen to it, or stop inviting me to the meetings.'

'I have to agree with Admiral Willis,' said Esteban Diente, the admiral of Grid 9. He had short, dark hair, frosted with a few strands of silver. His coppery face was broad, though his eyes were close-set. 'Our advice does you no good unless we're free to offer an honest opinion.'

Admiral Pike cut through to the main point. 'What targets are you considering, sir?'

'And what is the overall objective?' asked his friend Admiral San Luis.

Basil nodded to Deputy Cain, who answered, 'King Peter's rebellion is spreading faster than we expected. Because of the Confederation's access to green priests, they can transmit their propaganda instantly, while we're stuck with traditional slow measures, such as lightspeed transmissions or stardrive couriers.'

This haemorrhaging of Hansa worlds must stop,' Basil interrupted. 'We will use whatever ships we have, go in force to these breakaway colonies, and encourage them with the strongest possible measures to remain loyal to the Hansa. We're going to need their resources and their workforces.'

'But where do we begin?' asked San Luis. 'We don't have so much as an unofficial tally of the worlds that've thrown in their lot with King Peter.'

'And we don't know how many Roamer clans we're talking about,' groaned Admiral Pike. 'We never did.'

'We've got to build momentum by nailing down some successes quickly,' said General Lanyan. 'Let's secure as many Hansa colonies as we can, as fast as we can grab them. We'll focus on the ones we can win without much of a fight to make ourselves stronger and build up our numbers.'

At the very least, that should slow our attrition,' Cain said. 'We're losing colonies