The Epilogue: Chapter Three
How We Got Here from There

General Jignesh Vaja

"Cole to General Vaja, please respond."

I'm surprised by the call. Although Major Cole carries out her duties, whatever they may be, she's the only MACO in the whole bloody Empire, apart from those based at the Imperial Palace, who doesn't ultimately answer to me. So, I'm not sure what she's doing here other than spying on me for the Emperor, though she's always discreet and professional. I can never remember receiving a direct call from her before on a priority channel.

I flick the 'receive' button. "Vaja."

"We have a situation in Guest Room 17, sir. I request you attend as a matter of urgency."

The tension in her voice is evident. I'm rising from my chair even before I snap out my assent.

I use emergency speed in the turbo-lift. Sense dictates that I hold on to the safety handle, but with my free hand I check quite unnecessarily that the phase pistol clipped at my hip carries a full charge and is set to kill. Guest Room 17; I haven't been there since then-Colonel Burnell and I dealt with that traitor Towneley, but I know exactly why the Colonel selected it. You can get to it unobserved if you know what you're doing, and it seems that somebody does.

I should call for back-up, but until I find out exactly what the 'situation' consists of, it seems sensible to keep it contained. Cole will undoubtedly be armed too, and is fully competent to act in my support – unless, of course, this call is a pretext to lure me into some kind of an ambush.

The Emperor has worked hard in the years since he claimed the throne to establish a system where performance is rewarded. Even among the Pack it's now rare for officers to eliminate their rivals to secure their positions or acquire a better one, but it's not unheard-of. Nor is it something a Pack member (especially one in a position of such power as mine) should ever discount.

In the few moments it takes for the turbo lift to get me to the correct deck, I run through the possible scenarios.

I can imagine no circumstance in which the Major would attack me on her own behalf. For one thing, her job alone already affords her higher status than mine, despite her lower rank. Though she's officially posted here on Jupiter Station, I acknowledge rather sourly that she's still a member of my old friend the Emperor's personal staff (while I am not), and has more access than I do, travelling to Earth at least once a week in her own, personal shuttle pod (a perquisite I have never been granted).

Then there's the fact that, as far as I've been able to determine, she has no allies who would be able to help her make a move against the throne, if she were so inclined. If she could take control of station security, she'd have a base from which to launch an attack on the palace, if she had the ships and personnel with which to do it. If she has these, she's acquired them with a stealth and skill I'd admire more if I was likely to survive the coup d'état which would undoubtedly follow.

She does seem thick as thieves with some of the station's Starfleet personnel, though, particularly Commander Kelby, Lieutenant Commander Massaro and Doctor Jeremy Lucas at Jupiter Station Memorial Hospital. But when I reported this as suspicious activity to my old friend the Emperor, he thanked me for the information (his manners are always impeccable) and assured me that she was carrying out his orders in nurturing these relationships and others. However, since he did not specifically tell me to ignore her, I continued to casually monitor her activities and relationships and discovered she's a frequent visitor to the salvage bay and the hospital. Interestingly enough, about twice a month, she goes from the one to the other and then leaves the station within the hour.

After the pretext on which Philip Georgiou and I finally conspired (on the Emperor's orders, as that's the only reason we would collaborate except in a crisis), to nail the late Magister Admiral Erika Hernandez, I rather suspect Cole and Company are up to the former Commodore Tucker's old tricks. However, since the Emperor has seemed satisfied to let them get by with no more than a wink and a nod, I've had to content myself with noting and logging the activities on the chance that someday the records will prove useful. The aforesaid tricks are still technically illegal, as far as I know (though if she is acting on orders from the Emperor, that would be a legal conundrum best sorted at a court martial), and information is always a valuable weapon if required. After all, the late Magister Admiral was just following orders, too, both when Tucker escaped and in putting down the Harra Rebellion, and she died at the end of a rope for it.

And finally, I can see no reason why Cole would move against me because she seems happier in her job than anyone I have ever known. Why wouldn't she be? I know of no one else in the Imperial Military Services who can go where she wants and do what she wants, seemingly whenever she wants (as far as I can tell), and answers only to the Emperor. When she attends Commander Kelby's morning meetings – which she does whenever she's on the station, at least three days a week – she's never without a smile and a cheerful word, often playing hostess and pouring everyone's coffee and tea for them while they fill their plates from the charcuterie boards. Considering my suspicions that she wasn't nearly as blameless a participant in Tucker's activities as the Emperor has declared, sometimes her indefatigable cheerfulness is enough to give me a toothache.

So, that leaves two other improbable possibilities.

Philip Georgiou and I have been at a stalemate ever since Erika Hernandez's arrest and execution for treason. Even then, I credited my old friend, Emperor Burnell, with extraordinary cleverness in arranging things so that neither Georgiou nor I could gain an advantage over the other; but it's only with decades of hindsight that I can fully appreciate the truly meticulous care, the immense scope of planning and the uncommonly remarkable luck with which he brought us all to the current status quo. Looking back, I think it all started with the explosion in the old Jupiter Station Sick Bay.

Suddenly, with Generals Hayes and Gomez deceased and General Reed critically injured, Major Burnell (as he was then) became, if not the most powerful or highest ranking MACO in the Empire, at least the best positioned. Even before his promotion to Colonel Burnell and SiC of the MACOs, he had brought me into his service. Mostly he used me to suss out other Pack members serving aboard Starfleet ships and determine which of those might benefit from a word from him to ensure they would remain loyal to General Reed as their Alpha and hold their captains to their oaths to support the Empress and defend the Empire against all threats within and without.

Of course, I was more than happy to let him use me in that capacity at the time. It didn't take a wise man to realize the chaos that would ensue if the Fleet and the MACOs were allowed to descend into an all-out civil war, but it was surprising how many fools needed to be admonished against risking a meaningless power struggle that would see the Empire torn asunder and picked clean by the alien vultures that surrounded us. In exchange for a continuous feed of information, I got the security of knowing the Empire would remain fairly stable as things shifted to fill the gap left by the shattering of the Triad, the promise of a safe landing place on his staff at any time if I should ever need to flee a position, and other rewards, negotiated or freely given, as time went on.

Then, my friend was serendipitously promoted, skipping a rank and leapfrogging over several senior officers, to become a full colonel and the second-highest ranking MACO in the Empire after General Reed, not so much due to his talent or experience (though to be fair, both were already prodigious and noteworthy at the time) but due to his geographic location within the Empire. He was literally just the right man in the right place at the right time. He promptly promoted and recruited me and the regrettable Zenobia Towneley into his immediate command along with the most efficient and assiduous – though not Pack – Ian Trainor. Naturally I saw this as an appropriate reward for my efforts, and was glad my wagon was hitched to a rising star; the more powerful I indirectly became, the better chances I'd have to recruit support for a potential bid for power in my own right.

As his PA, the young Mr. Trainor kept Colonel Burnell's office ticking over like clockwork, no doubt helping my friend gain access to the right people in the halls of power, cataloguing details that would help him forge powerful alliances with them, and allowing him time to conduct his own investigations to unearth secrets that would be useful to him later. Though our methods were different, Zenobia and I both served to gather information for him from MACOs serving aboard Starfleet ships and from the Starfleet officers themselves, not only about what they seemed to be thinking and planning, but also about things they needed and wanted that the Colonel could then use to reward and encourage them and gain their loyalty. Of course, everyone's primary, absolute loyalty was still pledged to the Empress first, and then General Reed, but if some of it managed to trickle down to Colonel Burnell, or if some small amount might even overflow onto Lieutenant Towneley and me, no one ever really noticed. In such ways does the balance of power shift, and in the Empire, you gather up every fleck of gold dust that drifts your way, hoarding them until you have enough to make a coin. After all, you never know when the scales will be so finely balanced that the drop of a single coin will tip them…

Surprisingly, things ticked along quite steadily during General Reed's protracted recovery from the injuries he sustained in the explosion. We'd only just begun whispering and wondering how seriously he'd been injured and whether he was really ever going to recover when he was back in command of Fortress and patrolling the sector again. Though there were reports that he had somehow changed, there certainly seemed little evidence to suggest he was significantly weakened by the incident. The fact that he'd taken his woman with him on his first mission following his return to the stars merely indicated his sex drive was high, which reinforced his status, especially when he responded appropriately to Zenobia's approaches. As for the more compassionate, less impulsive way he began to handle the pirates and rebels his ship encountered, it might be startling given his past record, but it certainly didn't lack firmness. It was hardly sufficient to convince any of us that he was no longer capable of fulfilling his duties to the Pack as Alpha.

Even following Lieutenant Cutler's attempt on his life, Zenobia's regrettable forced early retirement from the MACOs, and the General's most unexpected order that the attempted murder be recorded as a 'domestic dispute' for which he (officially) privately punished his woman, his allies – including Captain Georgiou and a number of others loyal to him – were believed to be too many, too strong, and too loyal for anyone to try to seize power from him. In fact, Burnell and I exerted some effort to prevent any changes in the Imperial power structure by ensuring the near-assassination remained a secret for as long as possible and assuring the General's allies that all was well and he would soon recover from his 'minor injury'.

I assumed at the time that my friend believed then-Commodore Tucker to be too powerful to oppose without risking a catastrophic disruption in the upper echelons of the Imperial military and government, but looking back, I have to wonder if he didn't resist making his move then because he was concerned about how many allies I might have cultivated on my own behalf while working for him and how many of Zenobia's assets might just come over to me if he and I were to struggle over who would ascend to take Reed's place at the head of the Pack. She'd certainly indicated that there were those who saw my prospects as aligning with theirs, but there was no way of knowing whether she'd revealed this to him as well.

Then the General did recover, even faster than those of us in the know would have expected, and life continued as it had before his 'domestic dispute' with Lieutenant Cutler. On his routine patrols of the sector and urgent missions to deal with crises throughout the Empire, he continued building his new reputation as a fearsome but fair commander and enforcer of Imperial Law. Jupiter Station began ramping up production of new ships and re-fitting older ships faster than ever. The Memorial Hospital under the direction of Doctor Jeremy Lucas with the assistance of Lieutenant Cutler was quickly establishing itself as one of the Empire's premiere medical facilities. It truly seemed to be the beginning of a golden era for the denizens of Jupiter Station, if not indeed the whole Terran Empire.

At least, it did until that snake in the grass, Admiral Erika Hernandez raised her ugly head to strike against then-Commodore Tucker. Somehow Reed and the rest of Tucker's co-conspirators managed to escape Jupiter Station just before she arrived, though Tucker was her prime target and he surrendered to buy safety for the remaining personnel on the station. Though I'd like to say I'd have exposed my old chum Austin at the time if I could have proven he was responsible for that escape (without implicating myself, of course), I'm not so sure it's true, either that he was responsible or that I would have exposed him – that strange new modus operandi of loyalty must even have gotten to me, either that or I've gone soft. Then the duplicitous Lieutenant Chastain revealed her betrayal, and Commander Richard Kelby was put in charge of Jupiter Station on live TV as part of the negotiations for Commodore Tucker's peaceful surrender; but Tucker did an admirable job of maintaining his composure long enough to shield his people from retaliation or interrogation and to secure himself the promise of a court martial from Admiral Idiot before revealing the presence of multiple booby traps throughout the station, put there to ensure the Empire lived up to the promises Hernandez had unwisely made on its behalf.

Just days after former Commodore Tucker's arrest, then-Colonel Burnell was promoted to General and Head of Imperial Security. Admiral Hernandez was awarded her medal for ferreting out the conspiracy and was promptly seconded to now-General Burnell's office; the transfer to serve under a so recently junior officer who'd only just been promoted to her equal transformed what should have been a shining triumph for the Admiral into a humiliating failure. The official story was that the Empress wanted all of her best people working to maintain the security of the empire following the upheaval caused by Tucker's arrest and Reed's disappearance, but the gossip that spread throughout the MACOS and Starfleet said something completely different, which was confirmed by testimony at Tucker's court martial. It said Hernandez was being punished for running an independent investigation that, by excluding Imperial Security, ultimately led to the co-conspirators' escape and failed to capture the entire network. Captain Georgiou (who conveniently found himself available and in the neighbourhood) was prevailed upon to patrol the Sol system while things settled down, while my predecessor in this position, Major Janice Crawley, was offered and accepted a promotion and voluntary transfer Earthside to fill the position of Commandant of the Security Services Training Academy. This left me to take over as Chief of Security here on Jupiter Station, and while I certainly recognized the importance of my post and the associated hike in status it gave me, it wasn't long before I also recognized its limitations.

Crawley isn't Pack, but it was a well-deserved reward for years of impeccable service; and the move gave the future Emperor the advantage of having someone loyal to him training every security officer in the Empire, be they BII, MACO, the Imperial Family's Personal Guard, Imperial Palace Security Staff, local law enforcement officers seconded to Imperial Security offices, or the British Navy, who've been in charge of patrolling the high seas on Earth since the founding of the Empire. Most importantly, by the time he became Emperor, with me installed on Jupiter Station, Georgiou patrolling the Sol system and Hernandez running errands for him throughout the Empire, he had his three most powerful Pack officers – and by definition his three most dangerous rivals –all safely at a distance from Earth but still under his watchful eye, and all jostling with one another for the opportunity to succeed him to the throne.

But I get ahead of myself, though how can I not? I might be the MACO's best interrogator, able to wheedle information out of a subject without them even knowing they're being questioned, but my old friend Austin has always been a brilliant strategist and master manipulator. Or perhaps he's more like a clockmaker, a chess-playing clockmaker, positioning people like pawns on a galactic chessboard and setting events into motion that force them into actions which can only lead them to the inevitable conclusions of his choosing. Even in those anxious days immediately following Tucker's arrest and Reed's disappearance, with a yawning power vacuum right next to the throne and the Empress only holding on by virtue of the fact that no one really knew if they were in a position to step in and seize Power or who might be strong enough to oppose them or wrest it away when they were still recovering from the struggle to obtain it, my good friend Austin was putting in place the people he knew would support him when he ascended to the throne and putting in their place those who would be foolish enough to cross him.

Even now, when he's been in power for so long and given the Empire more stability than it's probably ever had in its entire existence, I look at him with as much resentment as admiration and as much admiration as resentment. And if I'm honest, I think my feelings toward him might slightly resemble those of a younger brother, for they're hopelessly complex. Along with the admiration and resentment, there's envy of his position and jealousy that another of his allies might claim a closer bond with him. There's also love (insofar as I'm able to feel it, for I know Pack does not experience love in the same way as normal humans) for someone who has always valued me for who and what I am and treated me well, even when I couldn't see it at the time. Lastly, there's pride – a surprisingly large amount of pride – for someone a few years older and wiser, and just a bit cleverer than I am. He's not just the Head of the Terran Empire, he's Alpha of the Pack, he's one of us – the cleverest, the bravest and the strongest, at least until the day of his inevitable fall. Every step he's played has been a blinder, which is why he is where he is and the rest of us are where we are, and the stealth of his changes has only been equalled by their power and inevitability. It's like watching a glacier advance; you take your eye off it for a month, and when you look back again another few centimetres of land have disappeared, never to be seen again for the rest of the Ice Age.

I was by his side, though perhaps more than the one literal step behind, the day he barged into the Imperial Audience Chamber and announced to the Empress he was changing her plans for the future, and while they could go a number of different ways, all of them would be his way from then on. I was very soon sent away to take charge of the household staff, all of whom had surrendered in a bloodless coup, the only casualty of which was the hem of a fantastically expensive Triaxian silk dress. We had to house them in the palace dungeons because there was nowhere else conveniently available to hold that number of people, but on the rising Emperor's orders, we made every effort to make them as comfortable as possible, even bringing in cots with mattresses and providing three meals from the palace kitchens each day and free access to water; you show me another man in the middle of a bid for control of an Empire who'd consider the welfare of people whose importance in the scheme of things must be next to damned zero. And though I missed most of the excitement and entertainment in the Audience Chamber, the soon-to-be Emperor chose me as his first attendant in the wedding party to express his gratitude for the important and appreciated help I provided in confirming the sincerity of the oaths of fealty the staff swore to him after the Empress announced their engagement.

The day after the wedding, I was ordered back to Jupiter Station to resume my duties as Head of Security. Of course, the Empire's busiest shipyard couldn't be without her head of security for too long, but I certainly hadn't expected to have to watch the coronation on television, much less see Phillip Georgiou handing my old friend the Orb of State and the Imperial Sceptre. I could only take comfort from the fact that at least I didn't have to sit there watching it live, wallowing in the humiliation of having no role to play, as Erika Hernandez was doing and had done at the wedding too.

Still, the message from my old friend Austin was clear. He was now my Emperor and the Alpha of my pack even despite his not having killed his predecessor. Whatever hold the old bonds of our friendship might have had on him, not only could he never show me favouritism, but he would also have to go out of his way to seem impartial toward me. Any further rewards or privileges would have to be demonstrably earned, not through merely faithful service, but by achievements surpassing those of my competitors. I was now recognized as one of many threats to his position, and so he would keep me at arm's length, pulling me in when I could be useful, but otherwise largely leaving me alone.

Perhaps the sudden, unannounced change might have stung a little less if he hadn't inserted Georgiou over me as his best man in the wedding party, but, much as I hated to admit it even then, I knew he couldn't allow someone as lowly as a mere major to stand beside him on the dais when he took his wedding vows.

I knew from the start of the Emperor's reign that there was no hope of allying myself with Georgiou. As a starship captain, he already had the advantage over me when it came to collecting loyal allies, simply by virtue of being able to go places and meet people while I was trapped on Jupiter Station. When he visited the station, I was able to glean from his crew that he was a gifted commander, reasonable, fair, and loyal, well-respected and even well-liked by those serving under him. He had no need of anything I could offer him either in terms of my personal skills or my resources as security chief on the Empire's biggest space station. In any alliance we might have formed, I would be little more than a tool or a lackey for him, a spy gathering information from the various crews of ships docked at the station and passing it on to him.

We interacted on those occasions, of course, as a matter of military courtesy, but though he was always impeccably polite, he was also totally impenetrable. I'd imagine he knew quite well how I must be feeling (he'd be the same in my place, after all), and the fact that he understood my resentment made him all the more aware I'm a potential threat and should be handled with the utmost caution. I suppose that's a compliment – of sorts.

So, I focused instead on building my own network of tools and allies by cultivating relationships with the MACOs and certain key officers on the ships that visited the station. Simultaneously, I kept my relationship with Hernandez cordial, but not overly friendly, and that was a delicate dance on a very high wire for a very long time. I already knew the Emperor disliked her, personally, – something to do with an incident shortly after the explosion in the old Sickbay – but in the Empire one never discards a potential ally until or unless it becomes necessary. I continued to half-heartedly nurse the possibility that someday the Admiral might find me conveniently useful if and when she ever made a grab for power. And unlike the situation with Georgiou, I wouldn't mind in the least being used by an ambitious admiral with few reliable allies. While her ambition might attract hungry little parasites happy to swim along with her and feed off of her like remoras with a shark (until the host dies, the waters get too turbulent or a more attractive host comes along), her particular brand of psychopathy and the amount of chaos with which she habitually surrounded herself would never draw many loyal allies who wanted to live very long. So, it was my hope that I could emulate the Emperor by being available to Hernandez in a pinch – the right man in the right place at the right time. Then, once she had done the hard and dangerous work of staging a coup d'état, I could step in, turn those parasites into allies, and, with the support of my own network, claim the throne by offering myself as a more rational and reliable, less bloodthirsty and psychotic leader.

But then, just before Tucker's court martial, the Emperor took the Revenge away from Hernandez and assigned her to training duties, firmly under his thumb at Starfleet Academy. He recalled Admiral Grady and put the Revenge under the command of Captain Georgiou. Philip's old ship the Viper was now commanded by the former first officer, and the two ships alongwith a few others were placed under Grady's command and assigned to patrol the Imperial borders.

Concealed as it was amidst a barrage of news coming from the Imperial Palace at the time – the complete reorganization of the Cabinet, the arrest of one of the former ministers, and a pilot program allowing autonomous home rule on Vulcan (which worked so well it has since been rolled out on other conquered worlds, including Andoria and Tellar) – this reassignment of military personnel and resources was largely lost on the media and the public. But I felt it keenly. While it might have been prudent on the part of our Emperor to separate Georgiou, Hernandez and I like errant schoolchildren, it seemed to me rather petty and unnecessary and more like the action of a prudish spinster schoolmarm than a considered decision by His Most Imperial Majesty, Father of the Fatherland, Overlord of Vulcan, Imperius of Tellar, Rex Andor, Austin Robert Burnell.

For one thing, the three of us were capable of making as much or more trouble for him separately if we forced him to fight on three fronts than we would if we ever decided to work together. For another, we never would agree to work together because we'd have to decide which of us would be the Alpha if we ever managed to take him down. And while Georgiou and I would never let it be Hernandez because of her insanity, Hernandez would never let it be either of us because her ego would not allow another subordinate to usurp what she believed to be her place on the throne. If Burnell didn't realise this, it was an indicator that in one small respect at least, his judgment was flawed. For what it's worth, it's vaguely comforting to think he's not bloody infallible, even if the flaw is nowhere near significant enough to be any use to anybody.

Not that the Emperor's trifling rearrangement of personnel particularly inconvenienced me, though. I'd always catalogued the possibility of using Admiral Hernandez as a stepping-stone to the throne under the category of 'a body makes his own luck', so I was prepared, but no more than passively waiting for the opportunity should the Wheel of Fortune ever happen to turn in a direction to offer it. In the meanwhile, I concentrated on cultivating my own relationships among the MACOs and the Starfleet officers I'd gotten to know on various ships before then-Major Burnell called on me to help maintain order on the station. I've continued to grow my network throughout the Imperial military forces since then. I flatter myself even Emperor Burnell doesn't quite realise the extent of my influence on Earth, either, even expanding into the British Navy through a handful of officers I happened to meet on a shore leave in Singapore. Through these, I've gradually made the acquaintance of more and higher-ranking Navy officers as our careers progressed. For all her potential usefulness, Hernandez also posed a potential risk to anyone associated with her, simply because of her instability. While I was careful to keep her onside, she was never vital to any of my plans.

Whether he grew weary of having her so close to the Imperial Palace that she could show up at even the most minor state functions and official meetings, wary of allowing her too much influence over the next generation of Starfleet officers or worried about allowing her access to so many people who had access to his home and growing family, within a year, the Emperor had finally given Hernandez the rank of Magister Admiral. He placed her in charge of Imperial Security and moved her out to Jupiter Station to occupy his old offices. It was, officially, a promotion and reward for her service, but it was in all reality a banishment meant to physically and socially isolate her. He also placed former Commodore Tucker's former slave, T'Pol (now property of the Emperor and well protected from damage or destruction through misuse) at her side, ostensibly to assist her but more likely to watch her and report any questionable activities to the Emperor or his designee – who, I noted with a little irritation, didn't happen to be me. Anyone with eyes could see that, despite being the highest-ranking military officer in the Empire, second only to the Emperor, and the grand title of Head of Imperial Security, the Magister Admiral actually commanded very little, for she lacked the necessary relationships with the MACOs serving under her to rely on them to follow her orders. The only appropriate comparison I could find was that of a rabid bitch chained to a fence, fully able to kill anything that came within reaching range but deprived of any capability for self-determination. I'd imagine that collar round her neck chafed her every waking moment and choked her every time she went to the end of her chain, but things were shortly about to get a whole lot worse.

When the Emperor called upon our old friendship once more, I needed no one to tell me I was being used again, but I was more than happy to be useful on thisparticular occasion, especially when it came with a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. In addition to being copied on all communications between Hernandez and the Emperor, I was requested to 'assist' the Magister Admiral as necessary for her to complete her duties, and she was instructed to consult with me on all but the most routine matters. She didn't open a single personnel inquiry, conduct any interviews, organize a solitary raid or sting operation or initiate even one investigation where I didn't have an active part in directing its progress; and while I'd naturally never do anything to protect a genuine threat to the Empire or my old friend the Emperor, I did ingratiate myself with a number of high-ranking MACOs and powerful Starfleet officers by helping them put their best foot forward when Hernandez cast her jaundiced eye upon them. Nor did I use my position to inconvenience Captain Georgiou, though on reflection I might not have gone particularly out of my way to keep Hernandez from bothering him, either.

With my old contingency plan back in place, I used my position as 'advisor' to the Head of Imperial Security to strengthen my relationships with the higher ranking MACOs, the Starfleet Admiralty, and Hernandez's minions. Georgiou might have had a ship, but he was light years from Earth and still busy with Admiral Grady patrolling the borders of the Empire. With the new deep space border stations we'd been constructing over the past decade or so, he didn't actually need to come back to Earth for many months or even, possibly, years at a time. Of course, he had by then made himself invaluable to the Emperor, so he was recalled rather more often than the other ships in his group. Still, while he managed to visit my old friend every few months, in my unofficial capacity as Hernandez's supervisor, I was speaking to him by video call or in person two or three times a week.

Eventually, the Emperor determined that Hernandez was sufficiently tamed and isolated to begin allowing her to go on certain very carefully planned and supervised missions. For years, one of her primary responsibilities (which, with my assistance, consisted mostly of analysing data provided to her by the BII) was running down the former General Reed. Occasionally, when she would get a promising lead, she would prevail upon me to verify it for the Emperor, and in those instances when I agreed it could amount to something, the Emperor would authorize her to take command of whatever ship was to hand to investigate in person. Then, like a hound on an agoniser lead, who is free to wander only as far and hunt only as long as her master wishes and who can be compelled by signals of ever-increasing intensity to break off pursuit, even in the heat of the chase, to return and sit obediently at her master's feet, she would set out, hungry for a fight and thirsty for blood. And each time she was recalled just at the moment when she was prepared to strike, either because there was new intel that placed Reed halfway around the world at that precise moment, or because the ship she'd commandeered was urgently needed elsewhere, or just because the Emperor had grown impatient with her mission and decided it was time, she returned to the station to fulfil her other duties as Head of Imperial Security. I sincerely believe he sometimes did this simply to frustrate the shit out of her.

Even after Hernandez finally began establishing relationships within the MACOs, I was still copied in on all communications from the Emperor. Only a fool would imagine this development had escaped his notice; clearly, I was still expected to keep tabs on her and ensure that she was complying with all his orders and completing her duties appropriately. So, when a routine check of the list of station personnel on leave showed the Vulcan slave, T'Pol, was headed for Earth and a little investigation into the purpose for her travel revealed the Admiral had provided her with a pass to visit former-Commodore Tucker in prison, all sorts of alarm bells sounded and I promptly informed the Emperor. To my astonishment, he didn't instruct me to take any action either to stop the Vulcan from visiting the prison or to question Hernandez about her decision to issue the pass. When Tucker escaped with the Vulcan later that same day, I fully expected to be ordered to arrest the Admiral and pack her off to Earth for summary judgment and execution, but again he surprised me by issuing only a stern reprimand. It was then that I knew he had something much more interesting in mind for the Admiral, and remembering how creative my old friend could get with discipline and punishment, I just watched and waited. By now I was convinced her fall was only a matter of time.

In fact, I was so intrigued by the possibilities that awaited Hernandez that I almost didn't mind when, a year or two later, he ordered me to collaborate with Georgiou to compile evidence against her for whatever charges we could make stick. I say 'almost', because if she could be taken off the board, Georgiou would be left as my single biggest competitor for the Emperor's favour and the main stumbling block I would face if I ever made a move for the throne. Collaboration requires one to reveal at least a part of one's resources – what one knows, and sometimes how one comes to know it – and I was confident I already knew quite a lot more about Captain Georgiou than he knew about me. I didn't appreciate being made to sacrifice my advantage, but one simply does not say no to the Emperor. I don't know what specific objections Georgiou might have had to the arrangement, but I can't imagine that he was any more pleased by it than I was.

Fortunately, he proved to be a consummate professional, as I had always suspected. Once we'd established some ground rules about who would assume which responsibilities in our investigation and how we would communicate with one another, we managed to work rather closely together for many months without any friction at all between us. If either of us ever entertained the idea of using the proximity to eliminate the other (I did, so I'd guess he did too), no one would ever have known.

For the most part, Hernandez was like the majority of Starfleet officers of her generation. She was brutal and violent and very good at it. But where most of her peers were at best indifferent to the billions of unimportant individuals whose collective labour sustained the Empire and deserved more credit for its continued existence than all of the emperors, empresses, officers, ministers and bureaucrats combined, she actively despised them and went out of her way to make life difficult for them at every opportunity. If under the aspiring Empress Erica Hernandez, giving the labouring masses credit for their magnificent accomplishments would have been an act of sedition worthy of a traitor's death, under Emperor Austin Burnell – who was born and raised among them – calling her out on her campaign of malicious neglect and provocative mistreatment of them would not only be expected but encouraged.

So, when the Admiral was dispatched to deal with a rebellion in the Harra Mining Consortium, possibly the Empire's primary supplier of dilithium, she was ripe for the plucking. At my request, the Emperor called Georgiou back from whatever border region he was patrolling (he still had to go out on missions to avoid raising Hernandez's suspicions) and the Viper came with him. The Viper went on to Harra, ostensibly to support Hernandez's action, but primarily to record it for the court martial, and Georgiou brought the Revenge to Jupiter Station. Maybe other people than me saw a certain piquancy in that it was one of Reed's most loyal officers who was brought back to help exact 'revenge' on the source of his and Tucker's downfall in the very place it happened. I'm certain it wouldn't have escaped the Emperor's notice.

Georgiou, it turns out, is a dab hand at research. Give him a few key words and a database, and he'll pull out of it even the most inconsequential bits of relevant data and apocrypha like a vulture stripping the last morsels of flesh from a corpse. He's not bad as an analyst, either, if a bit slow for my tastes, but this is where I complement him. While he wanted to ponder over each statistic and report, determine how it fit with the others, and assemble them like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle into some kind of illustration of Hernandez's failures and crimes, I could throw everything into a matrix, pick out the patterns and trends and trace the outline of the big picture. Of course, I never ruled out the possibility that he was deliberately dawdling to keep me from knowing how good he really is, though perhaps his real genius is for tactics and strategy in the heat of a fight; I can't imagine him surviving as many battles as he has if he had to ponder that long over whether to fire phase cannons or use his torpedoes. By the same token, we could have wrapped up our investigation two or three days earlier if I hadn't been endeavouring to conceal my own greatest skills for the same reasons I ascribe to him.

As it was, we finished in ample time for him to have his staff crunch the numbers and for me to assemble a team. Then, when Hernandez returned just in time for the Empress's birthday party, he participated in the takedown while my team and I took over the ship she'd been using, downloaded and dissected all the information in the databanks, and interrogated all the crew. Both of us testified extensively at her court martial, which was televised as all legal proceedings have been ever since former Commodore Tucker was convicted of various crimes against the Empire – though not of treason. Of course, most courts martial are for minor offenses and petty indiscretions, so they're consigned to a secondary television network that hardly anyone ever watches unless they know the accused or one of the witnesses. Still, it's enough to satisfy the Emperor's desire for transparency in legal proceedings, and when there's a big fish to fry, like a Starfleet admiral on trial for treason, the daily highlights and legal analysis become a special news report for prime time viewing on the major networks.

When all was said and done, my old friend the Emperor surprised me yet again by promoting Captain Georgiou to admiral and making him Head of Imperial Security instead of me, but he soothed the sting of any possible insult by bumping me up past full colonel to make me a general and Head of Military Assault Command Operations. I elected to also maintain my position as Head of Security on Jupiter Station (there's far too much intrigue going on here for me to take my finger off the pulse of the place if I have any choice in the matter). So, Georgiou may have the loyalty of every captain in the Fleet, for all I know, but he requires my approval to use my MACOs in any operation. I may command the MACOs he needs to fulfil the responsibilities within his remit, but with no ships at my command, I depend on him to protect my base of operations. Serving at the Emperor's pleasure, he's Supreme Commander of Starfleet, but for all he knows, I may have the loyalty of all the MACOs on all those ships that he commands. If either of us moves against the other, we risk every ship in the Fleet becoming a battleground; and while the late Magister Admiral Hernandez might well have taken that risk without a second thought, if she thought at all and if she believed every other factor was in her favour, Georgiou and I are not psychotic. Both of us would prefer taking power over a strong and thriving Empire rather than the decadent carcass of one wallowing in space to be fed upon by the alien Vultures – Klingon, Vulcan, Andorian, Tellarite, Orion, and others – that surround us.

With the benefits of age, wisdom, and hindsight, I can now see the Emperor's cunning in using Georgiou and me for the masterful work of art that it was, and as much as it annoys me to have been used, I can't help but admire his brilliance. There was no reason Georgiou and I needed to work together to arrest and convict Hernandez. I had all the authority I needed to do it myself. Under the Emperor's aegis, Georgiou could have done it just as well without me, though perhaps he would have gone about it a little differently and it might have taken a little longer. For that matter, the Emperor could have bypassed both of us and put the BII on the case – the only two places they do not have jurisdiction superseding all government and military chains of command are in the physical presence of the Emperor and his family or on a military vessel in the heat of battle.

No, my old friend the Emperor ordered Georgiou and me to work together to make sure we could do so without falling into a pitched battle for supremacy. For him, it was a win-win proposition. If we fought and one of us won, he would have only one potential challenger remaining. If we fought to a draw, we both would have weakened our positions and would have needed time to shore up old alliances, build new ones and develop new strategies for the next round. As it was, we worked together almost seamlessly, which paved the way for him to put us on equal footing and make us dependent on one another, which made him that much more secure as Emperor. We're like two sled dogs who – left to their own devices – would fight each other for leadership of the team, but unfortunately for our mutual urge to dominate, we have a Master who has us securely buckled into harness, and whose whip is perfectly capable of licking us back into position if we ever succumb to the temptation to forget who's in charge.

If he has not exactly checkmated us, he certainly has us both in check. Georgiou and I have been at a stalemate for years. Neither of us can amass enough power to both defeat my old, brilliant friend and then prevent the other from taking him out while he's recovering and reorganizing following the fight. If one of us should move against the other, the Emperor would instantly be alerted and have the survivor arrested and take additional measures to protect himself and his dynasty.

So, while I don't believe Major Cole would ever come after me on her own behalf, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that Georgiou might have found some inducement to persuade her to help him eliminate me. It would be even more likely for her to be acting on the orders of the Emperor to protect him and his dynasty from the most likely challengers for the throne. But one of my greatest natural talents is reading the landscape, analysing the data, and predicting the likeliest outcomes, and nothing I have seen in years suggests either my old friend or my rival are likely to move against me right now.

Confident in myself and my understanding of the world, I am ready but relaxed…

…Until the moment the turbolift stops and it occurs to me that Prince Alfred is no longer a boy, but a fine young man who is fast becoming a worthy successor to the Imperial Throne. If he should see me as a threat to his father or his right to succession, there's no telling what could be waiting for me on the other side of that door.

It sounds like Jignesh is a little resentful over what's happened in the past few years, and he knows, as do all the other Pack members, that Austin never killed the previous Alpha. What do you think his reaction is going to be when he finds Malcolm ready to surrender to him? Will he seize this opportunity to stake his claim to leadership of the Pack? Given Malcolm's age and condition and his status in the Pack at this point in time, would it even be worth Jignesh's effort to try to kill him?