But at least, he reflected, this holier-than-thou intellectual had a name. It had come to annoy Luseferous rather a lot that he didn’t have a name for the failed assassin. Yes, the fellow had failed, yes, he had paid dearly for his crime, and yes, he was dead and now reduced to a mere trophy. But somehow the fact that his name had never been revealed had begun to strike Luseferous as almost a kind of triumph for the assassin, as though successfully withholding this nugget of information meant that Luseferous’s victory over the wretch would never quite be complete. He had already sent word back to Leseum to have the matter investigated more thoroughly.

His chief personal secretary appeared behind the sheet of mirrored diamond forming the main inner door of the stateroom-study.

“Yes?”

“Sir, the Marshal Lascert, sir.”

“Two minutes.”

“Sir.”

He saw the Beyonder marshal in the primary stateroom of the Main Battle Craft Luseferous VII, his fleet flagship. (Luseferous thought terms like “battleship’ and “fleet carrier’ and so on sounded old-fashioned and too common.) He’d had the craft remodelled to provide accommodation befitting his rank, but there had come a point where the naval architects had actually started to cry because letting what they called “voids’ grow beyond a certain volume weakened the ship too much. The result was that the stateroom wasn’t really as extensive or as intimidating as he’d have liked, so he’d had some mirrors installed and a few holo projectors which made it look bigger, though he always had the nagging feeling that people could see through the illusion. The style he’d chosen was New Brutalist: lots of exposed faux concrete and rusty pipes. He’d taken a fancy to the name but had gone off the look almost immediately.

He entered with only his private secretary going before him. Guards, courtiers, admin, army and naval people bowed as he strode past.

“Marshal.”

“Archimandrite.” The Beyonder marshal was a woman, dressed in light armour which looked like it had been polished up but still gave off an impression of practicality and scruffiness. She was tall, slim and proud-looking, if somewhat flat-chested for Luseferous’s taste. Bald women always repelled him anyway. She gave a formal nod that was probably the very least acknowledgement of his status that anybody who didn’t patently hate him and-or was about to die had given him for several decades. He couldn’t decide whether he found it insulting or refreshing. Two senior officers behind her were jajuejein, currently in their standard tumbleweed configuration, no part of their glittering plate armour higher than the marshal’s waist. He suspected that the woman had been selected because she was human, just because he was; almost all the Beyonder High Command were non-human.

He sat. It wasn’t really a throne, but it was an impressive seat on a dais. The Beyonder marshal could stand. “You wanted to talk, Marshal Lascert.”

“I speak on behalf of the Transgress, the True Free and the BiAlliance. We have wanted to talk to you for some time,” the marshal said smoothly. Deep voice for a woman. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure. So. How goes your end of our little war? Last you heard, obviously.”

“It goes well, as far as we know.” The marshal smiled. Lights reflected on her bald scalp. “I understand your own campaign has gone from victory to victory.”

He waved a hand. “The opposition has been light,” he said. “Your main fleet should be at the outskirts of Ulubis system in, what? One more year?”

“Something like that.”

“This is somewhat later than we had all planned for.”

“It is a big invasion fleet. It took time to put together,” Luseferous said, trying to show that he resented her implied criticism while also giving the impression that what she thought was of no great importance to him.

They were behind schedule, though. He had personally assured these — temporary — allies of his that he would be ready to invade nearly a full half-year earlier than it now looked would be possible. He supposed it was his fault, if fault it was. He liked to keep his fleet together rather than let it split up according to speed and then re-form as needed for the invasion proper. His admirals and generals insisted (though not too strongly if they knew what was good for them) that they didn’t need all units of the fleet to be together at all times, but Luseferous preferred it. It seemed more cohesive, more impressive, just more tidy and pleasing somehow.

It also meant that the Beyonders would shoulder rather more of the responsibility for preparing Ulubis system for invasion than they might have expected, so that the invasion fleet’s job would be all the easier and the Beyonders’ — hopefully much-depleted — forces would be in a position of weakness relative to his own mass of ships.

“Still,” Lascert said, “we imagine your advance units may be attacking even now.”

“We’ve had some automated scout-warning ships and highspeed drone attack craft there or on their way for a while now,” Luseferous told her. “Always best to be prepared for any eventuality. Some needed reprogramming but we believe they should be effective in beginning the softening-up process.” He smiled. He watched her react to the clear diamond teeth. “I am a great believer in the usefulness of spreading a little panic, marshal. Better still, a lot of panic. After a long-enough exposure, people will welcome any power that brings an end to uncertainty, even if they might have resisted it before.”

The marshal smiled too, though it looked like she was making an effort. “Of course. And we thought now might be an appropriate moment to talk in more depth about what you see your strategy being once you reach Ulubis.”

“I intend to take it, marshal.”

“Indeed. Of course, it may be quite well defended.”

“I expect it might. That’s why I’ve brought such a big fleet with me.”

They were between systems, way out in the empty wilderness of near-nothingness less than a year from Ulubis. The Beyonder fast cruiser and its two escort destroyers had rendezvoused with his own fleet only hours earlier, skid-turning and matching velocities with a grace and rapidity that he could see his own naval people envied. Fine ships, indeed. Well, they had the ships and he had the systems; just another opportunity to trade, maybe. Now those three fast ships lay embedded in a fleet of over a thousand craft, even if they were rather plodding in comparison.

“May I be frank, Archimandrite?”

He gave her a good wide look at his deep red eyes. “I expect no less.”

“We are concerned at the possible level of civilian casualties if Ulubis is assaulted over-aggressively.”

Now why would she say that? Luseferous thought to himself with a sort of inward chuckle.

He looked at his private secretary, then at his generals and admirals. “Marshal,” he said reasonably, “we are going to invade them. We are going to attack them.” He smiled broadly, and could see his admirals and generals grinning along with him. “I think aggressiveness is… essential, yes?”

He could hear light laughter from one or two of his top brass. People thought that having people so in awe of you that they were frightened to tell you bad news and always laughed when you laughed (and so on) was a bad thing, and supposedly insulated you from what was really going on, but if you knew what you were doing, it didn’t. You just had to adjust your perceptions. Sometimes everybody laughed, sometimes only a few, and sometimes who kept quiet and who made a noise told you a lot more than when you asked them to just speak out and tell you the truth. It was a sort of code, he supposed. He was just lucky to be naturally adept at it.

“Aggression and judgement are both required, Archimandrite,” the marshal said. “We know you to possess both, of course.” She smiled. He did not smile back. “We merely seek an assurance that your troops will act in a manner which will bring you further praise and greater fame.”