Firstborn

be brought into line?”
    Kern glanced at the holo, and—realizing where he’d paused it—turned off the image.
    “We are High Officers, Dennison,” Kern said sternly. “Such talk isn’t fitting.”
    Dennison snorted.
    “Varion
can
be defeated,” Kern insisted.
    Dennison shook his head. “No. He can’t. And why should we bother, anyway? When does a man stop being a hero and start being a tyrant? If he had the right to bring the rebellious Reaches into line, then why shouldn’t he claim the same moral right regarding us?”
    Kern frowned. “Only the planets that raided us were conquered—at least, at first, back when Varion was still nominally under control. This complete conquest of the Reaches was his own plan, done against the High Emperor’s wishes. By the time we realized our mistake, he was already too powerful. We really only had one option—gather strength and wait, hoping that he would be satisfied with taking the Reaches.”
    Dennison shook his head. “If you hoped that, then you never really knew him. He is a conqueror, Kern. It’s like he feels some divine right to take the High Throne for himself.”
    Kern’s frown deepened. He reached over, turning the recording back on. Once again, Dennison was confronted by the frozen image of his father dying, his brother . . . his other self . . . watching impassively.
    “At least the High Empire believes in honor, Dennison,” Kern said. “Is there honor in that face? The face of a man who would slaughter his own father?”
    Dennison glanced away, shutting his eyes. “Please.”
    He heard the holo wink off. “I’m sorry,” Kern said sincerely. “Here, let me show you something else instead.”
    Dennison turned back; the holo shifted to an image of Varion. This image, however, was in motion. Varion sat behind a broad, black commander’s desk, a small data pad in his hand.
    “What is this?” Dennison asked, perking up.
    “The feed from a bug we have in Varion’s study,” Kern explained. “Aboard the
Voidhawk
.”
    Dennison frowned. “How—?”
    “Never mind how,” Kern said. “This is our only bug feed of the
Voidhawk
that didn’t fuzz off within an hour of the incident on Kress. I doubt that Varion’s scanners caught the other twenty but missed this one.”
    “He knows about it, of course,” Dennison said. “But why would he. . . .” He trailed off. Silvermane had left the bug because it amused him. Even as Dennison watched, Varion looked up—directly toward the ostensibly hidden camera—and smiled.
    “That man . . .” Kern said. “He wants us to watch him, to know how unconcerned he is by our spying. He’s so arrogant, so certain of his victory. You would bow before this creature? Whatever the empire is now, it will be worse with him at the head.”
    Dennison watched Varion lounge in his study.
But I
am
him—an inferior knock-off, at least.
    Kern eventually snapped off the feed. “I’m giving you a sub-command, Dennison.”
    Dennison frowned. “I thought we had an understanding.”
    “We have too many fighters and too few officers. The time for study is over.”
    Dennison felt himself pale involuntarily. “We’ll be facing . . . him?”
    “Just a minor battle,” Kern said. “A preliminary skirmish, really. I doubt Varion will even bother directing his side of it. It will happen some distance from the bulk of his fleet.”
    Dennison knew Kern was wrong. Varion directed all of his battles personally.
    “This is a bad idea,” Dennison finally said, but Kern had already turned back to his review of the Kress incident.
    * * *
    “Yes, son. It’s true.” The emperor looked . . . weary.
    “It’s illegal to clone a member of a High Family,” Dennison said, frowning as he knelt in front of the wallscreen image.
    “I
am
the law, Dennison,” the emperor said. “Nothing I do can be illegal. In this case, the potential benefit of a cloning outweighed our reservations.”
    “And I was that benefit,” Dennison said bitterly.
    “Your tone threatens disrespect, young Crestmar.”
    “Crestmar?” Dennison snapped. “Clones have no legal house or family.”
    The High Emperor’s aged eyes flashed with anger at the outburst, and Dennison looked down guiltily. Eventually, the emperor’s voice continued, and Dennison was surprised at the softness he heard in it.
    “Ah, child,” the emperor said. “Do not think us monsters. The laws you speak of maintain order in High Family succession, but exceptions can be