They all sat in the meeting room. A hundred men and women, if not more. Listening to the one who would lead them. When he finished explaining his plan, Peter turned to the crowd with a smile.

“Any questions?”

The room went quiet.

As he was about to speak again, a blue hand shot up.

Peter nodded in her direction. “Yes, Mrill?”

“Why there?” she asked.

There were mutters in the crowd around her.

“Do you have a better idea?” hissed someone in her back.

“No,” she said blandly. “I would just like to understand.”

Peter raised his hands to curtail any further interruptions.

“It’s a fair question,” he said. “One I’ll be happy to answer.”

He paced back and forth on the stage as he spoke, often looking toward the crowd.

“Nimnir is one of many Imperial outposts we could strike. However, there are several reasons why it should be this one. Least of all, it is not within the rim, though close enough that we can reach it fast. More importantly, it has recently served as a base of operations for the war efforts against Qevahr. Even as we speak, they are gathering machines of mass destruction and terraforming devices they plan to unleash on that world. Now, don’t get me wrong, I do not condone the actions of the High Noort. However, she is a citizen of the Imperium and, as such, should be listened to rather than pounded on. There are other ways to treat dissent than violence. And no matter her actions, her people should not be punished for her sins. A criminal should be trialed, not sentenced to oblivion along with all of their kin.”

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He stopped pacing, locking eyes with people in the crowd, one after the other.

“That is the true face of the master who would want us to serve him. A cruel man with a whip who will not listen to reason, who refuses to negotiate, and will send his dogs to you the minute you show any sign of rebellion. Do you want to serve such a master?”

“No!” shouted the crowd in one voice.

Peter smiled. “People often ask why we fight and say we shouldn’t complain about the way things are. They argue things were far worse in the days of Hassan the Conqueror. But, you know what? Hassan the Conqueror died three centuries ago. Not a single citizen alive today was alive back then—safe for his son, his murderer, who even now sits on the throne. I am not saying things were not worse yesterday. I say things could be better tomorrow. Why look to the past when we should be looking to the future? Just because a fruit is sweet doesn’t mean there aren’t others even sweeter. We can make our lives better. We can end the oppression, the tyranny. We can build a better future for our children. And we will!”

An uproar went through the crowd. Peter had to shout to make himself heard.

“Today, we strike! And with this strike, we shall reveal to the Imperium that the Scourge of Abrax lives! Everyone will see the true face of the Emperor. We will show him for the liar he is... He who boasts of having killed me, as if he had done so with his bare hands. He who hasn’t stepped outside his golden palace in decades! Today, I will speak to the people and tell them the truth.”

His eyes went back to Mrill. He smiled at her.

“And that is the main reason we go to Nimnir. All the media are there. They will record everything live. No editing. No treachery. The truth revealed. Will you ride with us?”

Mrill nodded as the entire room shouted and cheered, laughing and clapping.

Roff, who sat next to her, nudged her.

“He got you good, didn’t he?”

She looked at the grinning man with her usual bland stare.

“He answered my question.”

“That he did!” Roff laughed. “That he did!”

Because of all the Imperials who patrolled Pluvios, they had to leave in small groups to not draw attention. One ship at a time, little by little, they rushed through space to the meeting point.

Within twenty-four hours, the Scourge of Abrax was ready to strike once again.