"Fine," said Angus. "But why are you making me wear it now? The speech isn't for another two months."

Achton Feld concealed a smile at Angus's pouting and complaining as his wife turned him this way and that to alter the cut and hang of the ceremonial robes of a senator of Korhal. The robes were heavy and uncomfortable-looking, but the governmental apparatus of Korhal had a long tradition of pomp and ceremony where its procedures were concerned.

"Because, dear," said Katherine patiently, "it needs a few adjustments. It's been a few years since you wore it and you are not as sylphlike as once you were."

"So you're saying I'm fat," said Angus.

"Not at all," replied Katherine lightly. "Merely more statesmanlike."

Angus looked unconvinced, and Feld rose from his chair and made his way to the Skyspire's balcony window as he felt his employer's gaze linger on him, daring him to laugh at his discomfort.

Feld shifted the holster beneath his jacket, wincing as his shoulder pulled stiffly from where the doctors had removed six Impaler spikes from him. He'd been told he was lucky to be alive: four inches to the side and his lungs would have been perforated.

Months of agonizing skin grafts and bone reconstruction surgery had given him plenty of opportunities to curse that luck when tin pain meds wore off and left him with bone-deep ache that not even scotch could obliterate.

Katherine continued to fuss over Angus and Feld left them to it, activating the force field that protected the balcony and heading outside. The energy shield had cost a small fortune and not only protected the balcony from ballistic projectiles, energy weapons, and electronic surveillance, but also kept out the winds that howled around so high a structure.

Feld made his way over to the handcrafted ironwork barrier at the edge of the balcony and gently rested his elbows on it as he leaned out and admired the view.

As far as views went, it was up there with the best of them.

The upper balcony of the Mengsks' tower was on the one hundred and sixtieth floor of the building, some eight hundred meters above street level. The mountains to the north reared up like the ramparts of a giant's castle and to the south the landscape became progressively greener until it reached the azure line of the ocean.

On a clear day such as this, the distant coastline was visible and you could see the summer villa as an oblong of white through the optical viewer that sat on its tripod on the edge of the balcony.

The city of Styrling was laid out before Feld in a grid of silver, with soaring lowers rising to either side of the Skyspire like stalagmites of steel and glass. From here, the sheer scale and life of the city was apparent, and that such a vast conurbation had been built in so short a time was testament to the ingenuity and dedication of the people of Korhal.

That it had been achieved in the face of rampant Confederate corruption made it all the more impressive. Feld loved Styrling: from here he could see the green of the Martial Field, the site of Korhal's establishment as a member planet of the Confederacy. That day had been filled with so much promise so many years ago, but now, as a parade ground for Confederate marines, the Martial Field served only as a bitter reminder of how bad things had become.

Across from the Martial Field was the Palatine Forum, home of the Korhal Senate. Its bronze roof shone like a beacon, shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight.

"Inspiring, isn't it?" said Angus, appearing at Feld's side on the balcony. "Reminds you what we're trying to achieve."

For a big man, Angus Mengsk could move silently when he wanted to. Feld hadn't heard him approach.

"Yeah, it's some view," agreed Feld.

"The jewel in the crown of the Confederacy, they call it."

"I've heard. And now you want to pluck that jewel."

"Right from under them," said Angus with a smile. "It's not their jewel to keep. Not anymore."

"And what will we do if we win?" asked Feld.

“If we win?" said Angus. "Don't you think we can defeat the Confederacy?"

"I don't care anymore," said Feld, standing up straight and stretching his shoulder. "I just want to hurt them."

"Oh, we'll do that, my friend. Have no fear of that," promised Angus.

"You really think we can bring them down?"

"I do." Angus said, nodding. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't believe that. It may not happen in our lifetimes, but what we start here will be the beginning of something truly exceptional. Even a landslide has to start with a single pebble, eh?"

"That's true," conceded Feld.

"The influence of the Confederacy is spreading." continued Angus, warming to his theme as he always did when talking of his hatred of corruption, "but the people with the power to lake action are the very ones who won't recognize that there's a terrible malignancy at the head of that power.”

"Why do you think that is? It must be obvious, surely?"

"Of course it is, but recognizing the problem creates a moral obligation to then do something about it," said Angus. "And too many people have too vested an interest to take action."

"But not you?"

"The Old Families and the Council can make things difficult for me, yes, but all the Mengsk businesses are largely self-sufficient. We own every part of the process involved in my factories, from the hovercar plants to the AAI production lines. There's nowhere for them to squeeze us."

"Not legally."

"I've no doubt that the Confeds will throw money at any number of pirate bands or mercenary troops to cause us trouble off world, but we've come too far to give up now. Pretty soon we'll be able to do more than plant bombs or ambush lone squads of marines. Soon we'll be able to declare war."

Feld heard the unmistakable relish in Angus's tone and wondered if the senator truly appreciated what was at stake in taking on the awesome power of the Confederacy. Lives had already been lost, and Confederate troops were cracking down hard all across Korhal.

Early morning raids on those they suspected of terrorist activities were commonplace, and only Feld's rigorous insistence on watertight security and isolation among the various active cells had kept the integrity of the fledgling resistance movement intact.

Though Korhal wasn't yet under anything that resembled martial law, it wouldn't take much to force the Confederates' hand.

"Let's walk before we run," cautioned Feld. "If we rush things, we risk losing everything.”

"You're right, of course," said Angus. "But the moment is coming where the scales will start to tip, and if we don't act when it comes we'll miss it. And it's coming soon, Achton. The guns and tech being brought In from Umoja makes us stranger every day. Our men are now almost as well equipped as the marines."

That was true, reflected Feld. Every day, shipments of “industrial parts” for the Mengsk factories came from Umoja via a number of dummy corporations and along circuitous freighter routes. Innocuously labeled and accompanied by all the correct documentation, these freighters' cargo containers were laden with the guns, ammunition, explosives, armor, and technology that allowed the Korhal freedom fighters to wreak havoc on the Confeds at the behest of Angus Mengsk.

"I never thought Ailin Pasteur would come through like he has."

"He's a good man, Ailin, and not to be underestimated," said Angus. "I've no doubt he's helping us more for the Umojan cause than our own, but I'll take whatever I can get."

"He's still coming back for your Close of Session speech?"

Angus nodded. "Indeed. He and Juliana are returning to Korhal at the end of the week.”

"His daughter's coming?" said Feld, making no effort to hide his irritation." That wasn't in the security briefs. It'll complicate things. Why wasn't I told?"