ANGUS MENGSK POURED HIMSELF A GENEROUS measure of brandy from an expensive crystal decanter and downed the amber liquid in one swallow. He closed his eyes and allowed the molten taste to line his throat and settle in his stomach before pouring another glass. He lifted up the bottle inquiringly toward Ailin Pasteur, but the Umojan ambassador shook his head. "No thank you, Angus."

"I know you don't drink, Ailin," said Angus. "But under the circumstances..."

"Angus. I can't."

"Come on, man," cajoled Angus. "Surely one won't hurt?"

"He said he didn't want one," said Katherine, replacing the stopper in the decanter and glaring sternly at her husband.

"There's no such thing as just one for me. Not anymore," said Pasteur.

"Fine," said Angus, shrugging and taking his own drink back to the table.

In the aftermath of the attack, Angus had gathered the occupants of the summer villa in the main dining room, a long, oak-paneled room dominated by an exquisite rosewood table carved with pastoral scenes of a rustic Korhal that had probably never existed.

An exquisite chess set with pieces carved from jet and ivory sat next to the drinks cabinet, the pieces apparently arranged in mid-game, though the white king was in checkmate.

Angus's wife took a seat at the end of the table, next to Dorothy and Ailin Pasteur's daughter, and he allowed himself a moment of quiet relief that his girls had been spared the worst of this night's bloodshed. His mood darkened as he shot a glance over to Arcturus, the boy sitting with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes steadfastly refusing to meet those of his father.

Achton Feld had managed to haul himself from his sickbed to join them. The man looked terrible, his skin gray and greasy with sweat. Everyone knew he should have been resting, but, to his credit, he had found the strength to be part of their debate as to what was to be done about this terrible night and how best to repay those responsible.

Angus paced the length of the table, his expression murderous, his eyes smoldering with anger.

"Angus," said Katherine. "Sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet. And calm down."

"Calm down?" exploded Angus. "They tried to kill us in our own house! Armed men came into our house and tried to kill us all. I swear I'll lead the army to the Palatine Forum and strangle Lennox Craven with my bare hands if he had something to do with this. For God's sake, Kat, how can I be calm at a time like this?"

"Because you need to be," said Katherine firmly. "You are a senator of Korhal and you don't have the luxury of anger. It achieves nothing and only clouds your judgment. Besides, you don't know yet who was behind this. It might not be Craven and his Confederate goons."

Lennox Craven was the senior consul of the Korhal Senate, the man tasked with ensuring that the will of the Confederacy was carried out, upholding its laws and providing a controlling influence on the unruly senators below him.

Angus loathed the man, believing him to be little more than a stooge for the corrupt Old Families that governed the Confederacy from the shadows. But for all that, Craven was a formidable senator and canny businessman, and Angus had exchanged many an incendiary barb with him across the marble floor of the Palatine Forum. The Mengsk family was one of the Old Families too, one of the oldest in fact, and Craven never tired of reminding Angus that he was spitting in the eye of the establishment that had given him such power and wealth.

Angus took a deep breath and nodded, smiling al Katherine as he took a drink.

"You're right, my dear," he said. "O need to think this through clearly... Achton? Do you have any thoughts on what happened here tonight? Who were these men?"

"Professionals," said Achton Feld. "They were good, but we got the drop on them, thanks to Arcturus's stunt. A few minutes more and, well, I don't like to think what might have happened."

"And you and I are going to talk about the security here later," promised Angus, staring at his son. "But who were they?"

Achton Feld chewed his bottom lip for a moment, then said. "Everything about them leads me to think they're a corporate death squad, a black-ops unit used to kill off business rivals and engage in corporate espionage, kidnapping, and that kind of thing."

"Why would anyone want to target Angus?" asked Katherine. "And why now?"

"Perhaps someone got wind of the things Angus is going to address in his Close of Session speech to the Senate?" suggested Pasteur.

"It's sure to ruffle some feathers, to say the least," agreed Angus.

"But that's not for months," protested Katherine. "And your business interests only benefit Korhal."

"A lot of people on Korhal have become very wealthy thanks to their dealings with the Confederacy," said Pasteur. "Plenty of organizations have ties to both Korhal and the Confederacy, and Angus is stirring up trouble for them. If the Confederacy were to be kicked off Korhal, they would stand to lose millions."

"I know it's a long shot, Achton, but is there anything on the bodies that might tell us who sent them?" asked Angus.

Feld shook his head. "The kit they used is all ex-military stuff, the kind you can pick up easily enough if you know where to look. It looks like something local, but I don't buy it. My gut's telling me something different."

"And what is your gut telling you?" asked Katherine.

"That this is bigger than some corporation trying to hold on to its savings."

"Why do you think that?" said Angus.

"Because all those dead men are marines. Or at least they were."

"Marines? How do you know?"

Feld reached up and tapped the back of his neck. "They've all been brain-panned. All six of them have got neural resocialization scars."

Ailin Pasteur cleared his throat. "Well, naturally that leads us to the Confederacy."

"You're probably right. Ailin," said Angus, "but it seems heavy-handed, even for them."

"Really? You heard about the rebellion on Antiga Prime?"

"No. What rebellion? I didn't see anything about that on the UNN."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" pointed out Katherine. "Aren't you always saying that the Old Families control the corporations that run the news channels? They broadcast what they want you to see, their version of the truth in twenty-second sound bites."

"That's true enough," replied Angus. "But what of Antiga Prime?"

"Yes, well, apparently the people of Andasar City kicked out the Confederate militia and held the local magistrate hostage. They demanded an end to Confederate corruption, and whole districts rallied to their call to arms. The city was as good as in open revolt, but two days later, a troop of marines under a Lieutenant Nadaner went in and took the place back. And they didn't leave any survivors."

“Good God," said Angus. "How many dead?'

"No one knows for sure, but my sources say the figure is in the thousands."

"And that's exactly why we need to be careful here," pointed out Katherine. "If the Confederacy isn't shy about perpetrating a massacre like that, then clearly they don't have any compunction against killing a senator and his family, do they?"

"But why send resocialized marines?" asked Arcturus, lifting his head up from staring at the table. "Surely any dead bodies would be easy to trace back to the Confederacy?"

"Because they didn't expect to fall," said Angus, returning to the crystal decanter on the drinks cabinet and pouring himself another glass of brandy. "Their paymasters expected them to kill us all and not leave any of their own dead behind. The damned arrogance of it!"

"Then why bother making them look like corporate killers?" said Arcturus.

"Plausible deniability," said Achton Feld. "In case the assassins were caught on any kind of surveillance. Corporate-sponsored murders are terrible, if not exactly uncommon, but if it was discovered that the Confederacy was complicit in the murder of a prominent senator..."