<div>Adharan whiskey, single malt, one bottle worth a week's wages if you could get it: such things were a speciality for A. L Wainwright, proprietor of The Wainwright Club aboard Antares Station. Such a bottle held the attention of two men: one tall and strong, with eyes too blue to be natural and a scar he could have had fixed; the other bearded and jovial and rounder than his suit would have liked. The one maintained an expression of practiced neutrality while the other downed his glass with practiced ease.</div><br/>

<div>"<span class="italic">Stars</span> that's good," said the round man, as he set his glass down. It'd start to work its magic in a few minutes, the tall man reckoned; Stefanos Pei's capacity for inebriation was legendary, and this was rather stronger than his typical fare. He looked very much like he was considering another, but thought better of it. "Well," Pei said, "if the name Kalev Ehin hadn't caught my attention, <span class="italic">that</span> certainly has!"</div><br/>

<div>Ehin permitted himself a faint smile, one just as calculated as his firebrand public persona. "You flatter me, Stefan," he said. "I don't think my actions on the <span class="italic">Merneith</span> afford <span class="italic">quite</span> such a level of notoriety outside of present company."</div><br/>

<div>For the better part of a second, Pei looked surprised. The ill-fated <span class="italic">Merneith</span> boarding had spelled the end of then-Corporal Ehin's career, through no fault of his own. Blinded by Vasudan proxy mines, with his sergeant dead and contact with C&C jammed, Ehin had assumed command and lead his squad through a fighting retreat back to their transport, turning what should have been a total route into a pyrrhic victory for the commerce raider's crew. The Alliance had issued him a commendation and an honorable discharge, and eight months later, set him up with cybernetic prosthetics for his ruined eyes. Understandably bitter about the experience, Ehin refrained from mentioning it even in his anti-Alliance holonet screeds. This was, of course, quite intentional.</div><br/>

<div>"I suppose not," Pei said, in a wry voice that, to a sufficiently attentive ear, nevertheless betrayed his surprise. That hadn't been what he'd meant, and Ehin knew it; but Pei, Ehin was pleased to realize, didn't know he knew. To his credit, he recovered quickly. "But you didn't come here to swap war stories, did you? After all, the Zods are our allies now."</div><br/>

<div>Ehin glanced back, to where a pair of Vasudan VIPs talked in their own language over a plate of claw-beetles and Earth-style spaghetti; fortunately, they hadn't overheard. It was hardly surprising that Pei would harbor lingering resentment. He'd been gunnery chief on the <span class="italic">Goose Green,</span> the ship which had overseen the <span class="italic">Merneith</span> incident, and he'd lost as many comrades-in-arms as any Alliance soldier or sailor. Nevertheless, it was inconvenient. Ehin leaned in, the better to whisper across the table.</div><br/>

<div>"Mind the Z-word. I'm trying to build a movement for <span class="italic">all</span> Antarians: we'll be stronger with Vasudan support."</div><br/>

<div>To that, Pei merely nodded. "Of course," he said, and paused to busy himself with the bottle. He held his refilled glass, but didn't immediately drink from it. "May I assume that's what you called me here to discuss? Your conjectural Federation."</div><br/>

<div>As Pei made a toasting gesture with the glass, Ehin found himself wondering whether he was truly in control of the conversation, after all.</div><br/>

<div>"I wouldn't call us <span class="italic">conjectural.</span>" There was a bitter note in Ehin's voice: such a rebuff from an old friend, discreet as it was, stung more than he cared to admit. "Anti-Alliance sentiment is at an all-time high. Swing by the militia hangar before you leave this station: you'll see it plainly there. It just needs a leader, someone who can turn sentiment into action." Ehin paused, then, and again lead in, this time leveraging his height to loom over the other man. "And a leader would be more easily recognized if they could <span class="italic">support</span> that action. That's where Mesa comes in."</div><br/>

<div>Ehin half-expected Pei to grin and whisper conspiratorially, and he half-expected him to reach across the table and smack him. He <span class="italic">didn't</span> expect a derisive <span class="italic">snort</span>. "If that's what you want," he said, "you should talk to the board. I'm just a consultant, Kalev. What makes you think <span class="italic">I</span> can arrange the support you're after?"</div><br/>

<div>Clearly, a new plan was needed. Ehin tented his hands before him, the better to seem in control. No, it was more fundamental than that: the better to seem <span class="italic">unperturbed.</span></div><br/>

<div>"The board <span class="italic">will</span> listen to you. I'm the newest firebrand on a channel full of firebrands. <span class="italic">You're</span> still respectable, Stefan. You can sell them on my plan." When Pei sipped at his drink, Ehin pressed on. "Antares is trying to serve three masters: paying off the Alliance, appeasing the pirate cells, and serving its own people. That <span class="italic">cannot</span> continue. We need a proper military, one that will actually protect us, not some distant Alliance goon's interests. I hope we can resolve this peacefully, but you and I both know how readily governments give up power. If we can't, Mesa's weapons could be the deciding factor. I need to know they'll support the right side."</div><br/>

<div>Pei's response was a long time coming.</div><br/>

<div>"You're right about some things, Kalev. The system <span class="italic">is</span> unsustainable, and the Alliance's fault's the bigger part of it. It needs to change, and armed conflict may, ultimately, be called for. If it is, you'll have Mesa's backing. That's nothing to do with me, understand. I'm sure you've done your research; you know the directors are all Antarian, and you know they'll side with their home. So the question becomes, what do you need me for?"</div><br/>

<div>A low grinding noise momentarily cut through the quiet dining room; Pei had pushed back his chair to stand. "You're wrong about yourself, Ehin. I read your book, you know. You <span class="italic">don't</span> hope for a peaceful resolution. You're still fighting the old war, I think. It's just that your enemy's changed."</div><br/>

<div>Before he turned to leave, Pei upended his glass; a hundred credits of whiskey drifted downward in that lazy way liquids have in artificial gravity. That night, with the remains of the bottle in his belly, Ehin would have his doubts; but come morning, they'd be forgotten. A short email confirming Mesa's support later, everything would be right with the world.</div><br/>

