“The First Families,” Garos went on, speaking mainly to Thamnos, “are the strongest rival bloc to the Trade Commission—the only native rivals with interests spanning multiple Rigelian worlds and including interstellar business partnerships. Thus, you are in the best position to undermine the Federation’s attempts to co-opt the Commission.”
“We know all that,” a bored Corthoc replied. “But what do you have to offer us?”
“The Raldul alignment is a powerful interstellar cartel,” Garos told him, “and we have powerful allies such as the Orion Syndicate. We are skilled at infiltration, deceit, and sabotage. We can get into places even you cannot easily reach. And we can offer you a lasting partnership, much like the one the Federation is offering your Commission foes—albeit without the moralistic restrictions the Federation seeks to impose.”
“Now, that appeals to me,” Thamnos said, inhaling on the long narcotic stick she held between her fingers. Mercifully, her narcotic of choice gave off no disagreeable smoke or odor, but it surprised Garos that this canny, self-possessed woman would allow herself to be subjugated to one of the same addictive chemicals that her family used to entrap and control those they considered their lessers. “The Federation’s idyllic promises have made their way even to the ears of our serfs,” she went on, “despite our best efforts to limit their outside contact. It’s filling their minds with dangerous notions about rights and freedom.”
Corthoc gave a commiserating sigh. “Oh, that’s so irritating, isn’t it? We’ve had to maim or execute so many useful workers this past quarter. And somehow that just seems to make the rest of them more rebellious.”
“Of course it does, you fool,” Thamnos spat. “The one thing stronger than fear is hate. Make them see you as the source of pain in their lives and they’ll just fight you harder.” She smiled. “Subtlety is the key. Put the latest strain of the fever virus into their water supply, weaken and kill enough to take the fight out of them, then when they’re at their lowest, announce you’ve found a cure and come to their rescue. Earn their gratitude and they’re yours.”
Garos controlled his reaction tightly. As refreshing as Thamnos’s intelligence and charm may have been after spending any length of time with Corthoc, she was ultimately just as selfish and decadent, her power built on the backs of her people. They would both gladly sacrifice the well-being of their planet and its inhabitants if it brought them more power. They weren’t so different from the entrenched alignments that ruled the Malurian system, preservers of the planetbound laws and traditions that hampered the race’s efforts to compete and flourish in an interstellar age. Those like Garos and Raldul, who recognized that Maluria needed a galactic presence to stand against external threats—even to preserve the race against disaster on a global scale, the Holy Mother forbid—were ostracized and treated as criminals, and thus forced to become criminals to survive. In truth, Garos felt more affinity toward the rebellious peasants of Rigel IV than toward the First Families that so cavalierly subjected them to torture, addiction, disease, and outright murder at a whim, and that hoarded offworld technologies and medicines to themselves while the masses toiled in virtually preindustrial conditions. He despised everything Thamnos and Corthoc stood for.
But he served the good of the Malurian people, not the Rigelians. The Raldul alignment needed the wealth and influence that their extralegal dealings in the Kandari Sector made possible, and Maluria, whether the system’s leaders admitted it or not, needed Raldul to keep it strong and safe. Rigel had to be kept out of the Federation for Maluria’s sake, even if it meant Rigelians had to suffer and die. Even if it meant Garos had to climb down into the trenches with filth like the First Families.
So he made his mask feign a suitably devious smile. “That’s exactly the kind of cunning I’m looking for, Retifel. Exactly what we’ll need if we’re to thwart the Trade Commission and the Federation.”
Thamnos took what she evidently imagined to be a seductive drag on her narcotic stick and smiled back. “And that’s why I’m glad you’re here, my dear Dular. We’ve had designs against the Commission for decades, but acquiring the resources and support to make it happen has remained a problem. Now, perhaps, that can change.”
Garos widened his smile. “Whatever designs you have imagined, I encourage you to think bigger. What do you want most of all?”
Thamnos spread her arms expansively. “This. I want Rigel II. I’m tired of having to control it piecemeal, a casino district here, a bought politician there. I’m tired of having to share it with the Jelna and the Chelons and the outworlders. We are the First Families, born to rule unopposed. We should own this planet. That is what I want, Dular. And I want the Trade Commission to be so hobbled that it can’t do a thing to stop us.”