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audience; after his guaranteed victory, the tendrilless would
    certainly applaud his dreams and ambitions. They had waited, lurked, and planned for far too
    long. Only a few, like the stodgy Authority members, bled away that enthusiasm with
    “caution” and “patience”—thinly disguised words for “cowardice.”
    “The initial attack has commenced,” Jem announced. “Our heavily armed vanguard ships
    have arrived at Earth in the past hour. At this very moment, our warriors should be
    bombarding their cities. It is time for us to launch the much larger occupation fleet. All those
    ships and personnel will require a week to get to Earth. The victory is all but assured.”
    “Nothing is ever assured, my son, until it has happened,” answered Altus Lorry, Jem’s
    father. The old Authority Chief had a head that seemed too large to balance on the wattled
    stalk of his neck. His hair was shaggy, giving him a leonine appearance. Altus Lorry was a
    grandiose leader who had spent his lifetime playing politics among the most influential
    tendrilless in Cimmerium. But he had no real understanding of the human enemy.
    Jem struggled to keep his expression neutral. “I urge you to hear my recommendations,
    Father. Have I not earned it? I lived for years among humans. I know all the systems we have
    put in place.” He could not entirely hide his impatience. “It’s no surprise that after years of
    living comfortably on Mars, you and the other Authority members have grown complacent.
    You are afraid of things you need not fear and suspicious of that which poses no threat. You
    give the humans far too much credit.”
    Altus laughed without humor. “Better safe than sorry, my son, as you well know.”
    “Actually, I don’t! You have always been safe here, but I have never been sorry for what I
    did or accomplished.” Jem sensed an uneasiness among the Authority members, and it made
    him angry. If they didn’t act soon, their swift advantage would begin to trickle away. “While
    the first stage of the attack shatters the government and breaks their ability to resist, we must
    launch the main occupation fleet. We need the big ships and our overwhelming ground forces
    in place to consolidate our hold on Earth.”
    Not long ago, Jem had watched as hundreds upon hundreds of sleek vanguard warships
    launched from Mars, kicking up crumbled red dust, spewing clouds of steam and fuel exhaust.
    They had risen to the sky and out into orbit, streaking across space like sharks scenting blood
    in the water. The blood of normal humans.
    And that was only the first wave of the attack.
    The initial volley of devastating bombs would be dropping upon the main cities of Earth
    right now. At last, Jem would feel vengeance for his people, who had been forced to run here
    centuries ago and hide. The tendrilless would finally get what they were owed. So why delay
    the occupation fleet?
    “Patience, my son.” The old man was unintentionally condescending. “We intend to do so.
    The occupation fleet will be on its way by tomorrow. Or the day after.”
    Jem took a deep breath. The Tendrilless Authority had always been a roadblock to his
    ambitions. Eventually, before he could accomplish anything worthwhile, he would need to
    replace the old members with a more proactive group. Or, he mused, he might have to do
    away with the Authority entirely. Who needed a seven-member council when one visionary
    leader—a king, for lack of a better term—could do the job much more efficiently?
    “Another factor makes our timing impeccable.” Jem had stopped thinking of himself as a
    petitioner seeking permission. He fancied himself a great general, and the tendrilless armies
    were under his control; he was simply delivering a report to the Authority. “Earth itself is in
    turmoil. President Kier Gray has just been arrested and exposed as a true slan. Even I never
    suspected it! The power vacuum weakens them even more. They will barely be able to mount