"No I'm not!" squealed Dorothy, jabbing her fingertips into his ribs.

"All right, all right! You're not fat!"

"Told you," said Dorothy, satisfied she had won the argument. She looked up at him, and he knew she hadn't forgotten that he hadn't answered her question.

"I wish you didn't always fight with Daddy," said Dorothy.

"I wish we didn't either."

"So why do you?"

"It's hard to explain, Dot,” he said. “Falher and I...well, we don't agree about a lot of things and he's too stubborn to admit that he's not always right."

"Are you always right?"

"No, not always, but—"

"So how do you know Daddy's not right then?"

Arcturus opened his mouth to answer her child's logic, but floundered when he couldn't think of an answer that would satisfy them both.

"I suppose I don't. But he wants me to do things I don't want to do."

"Like what?"

"Like not be who I want to be," said Arcturus.

"Who do you want to be? Don't you want to be like Daddy?"

Arcturus shook his head. "No.”

"Why not?"

Arcturus was spared from answering by a gentle knock, and he looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway. Katherine Mengsk was dressed in a long cream dress with a midnight blue bodice and looked as fresh as if she had had a full night's rest and not been hunted by armed soldiers.

"Dorothy, it's time for breakfast," said Katherine.

"But I'm not hungry," said Dorothy.

"Don't argue with me, young lady," warned her mother. "Go down to the kitchen and have Seona fix you a bowl of porridge. And don't turn your nose up at me. Go."

Dorothy leaned up and planted a small kiss on Arcturus's cheek before dropping from his lap and running off, Pontius dragging on the floor behind her.

With Dorothy gone, Arcturus stood and pulled on his shirt and a pair of dark britches, hiking the braces up over his shoulders.

"You didn't answer her question," said his mother.

"What question?"

"Why you don't want to be like your father."

Arcturus ran his hands through his dark hair and poured himself a glass of water from a silver ewer beside the bed. He took a drink and swilled the water around his mouth before answering.

"Because I want do something with my life that's mine, not his."

His mother swept inlo the room, graceful and strong, and placed a hand on Arcturus's shoulder. The touch was maternal and comforting, and Arcturus wished he could be as close to his father as he was to his mother.

"Your father just wants what's best for you, Arcturus," she said.

"Does he? Sometimes I think he just wants a carbon copy of himself."

Katherine smiled. "I see a lot of him in you, it's true, but then there's too much of me in you to ever be that much like your father."

"That's a relief," said Arcturus, but the smile fell from his face as he saw the hurt in his mother's face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know he's a good man, but he doesn't understand me."

"You think you're the first seventeen-year-old who's said that about his father?"

"No, I suppose not."

"You are a brilliant boy, Arcturus: you could achieve great things if you allow yourself to. Everything you turn your hand to you master within days, and your father just wants to make sure you make the most of your talents."

"I remember you telling me I was going to be a great leader when I was Dot's age," said Arcturus." But I grew out of that a long time ago."

His mother took his hands in hers and looked straight at him. "No, it was true then and it's still true."

Uncomfortable with his mother's grandiose dreams for his future, Arcturus changed the subject. "Do I really have to go back to the academy?"

"Yes, you do. I know you don't like it there, but it means the world to me that you finish your education. You did recall that message with the comm-virus you sent to Principal Steegman's console, didn't you?"

"I did"—Arcturus grinned—"though it would have been worth gelling expelled just to have seen the look on his face as the virus sent his private files to the parents of every student at the academy."

His mother shook her head in exasperation, but he could see that she too was amused at the thought of Steegman's humiliation. "I don't even want to think what might be contained in that odious little man's 'private files'."

"Are Ailin Pasteur and his daughter going to be staying with us for a while yet?" asked Arcturus, hearing movement from another part of the house.

Katherine's eyes narrowed as she sensed his interest. "Yes, they will be our guests for a spell. Your father thinks it wise for them to remain with us until he can recall some more guards to escort us all back to Styrling."

"That sounds sensible," Arcturus nodded, trying not to sound too interested, though of course his mother saw through his nonchalance in a heartbeat and smiled.

"She's very pretty," said his mother. "Juliana."

"Yes, she is," agreed Arcturus. "And I think she likes me."

His mother leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Who could not love you, my handsome boy? Now go and get some breakfast with your sister; I've no doubt she'll be trying to talk Seona into giving her something so laden with sugar it'll keep her awake for days."

Arcturus made his way downstairs, along the corridor that had only the previous night been filled with gunsmoke and the sound of battle. The bodies that had lain here, pumping their lifeblood over the carpet, had been removed and the domestics were cleaning the stains they had left behind.

It still seemed unreal to him that people had tried to kill them last night. The idea that people would kill helpless civilians for the sake of something as prosaic as money seemed ludicrous, but if his reading of history had taught him anything, it was that entire cultures had been wiped out for far less. Killing for honor, glory, land, or freedom seemed more noble ideals to kill or die for, but Arcturus Mengsk planned on doing none anytime soon.

He set foot on the stairs, the wood creaking and the banister splintered by Impaler spikes. Entire sections had been blasted away and the marble and plaster walls were stitched with impact craters.

When he reached the bottom, Arcturus heard voices coming from the dining room. The door was ajar, and he paused as he recognized his father's stentorian tones and the more mellifluous sound of Ailin Pasteur's voice.

Curious as to what they were talking about, Arcturus edged closer to the door.

"...exactly why we need your help more than ever, Ailin," said his father. "Korhal can't do this alone. We're gathering strength, but without the support of Umoja, the Confederacy will crush us."

"I understand that," replied Pasteur, "but you have to understand the precariousness of our position. Umoja can't be seen to be openly supporting you, Angus. We have a hard enough time fending off the Confederate influence as it is, and to be publicly linked with a rabble-rouser like your good self would give them an excuse to increase their pressure. The Ruling Council is willing to supply your men with what they need, but our involvement can't be made public."

"That's a given, Ailin, but matters are coming to a head. The attack last night only goes to show how desperate they're becoming. I have supporters within the Senate and all over Korhal to make this work, and you know well enough that brushfire rebellions are erupting throughout the sector. All it needs is one shining example that the Confederacy can be beaten and the old order will be swept away. Korhal can be that example, but only if you support us."

"And we will, but what you are talking about... you'll be called a terrorist."

"I prefer the term 'freedom fighter,'" said Angus.

"That depends on whether or not you win."