In the 21st century, Elon Musk created a colony on Mars and had several more wives and additional children. He became the God Emperor of Mars and had 20 genetically enhanced sons called Primarchs. Those descendants would later become the Redskins due to the pigment of their skin. The Martian atmosphere and radiation as well as selective breeding resulted in a new race of humans. While Earth fell to warfare, environmental catastrophe, depopulation, and anarchy, the Redskins flourished. They built cities, terraformed Mars to make it more like Earth, and co-existed with the native Martians...for a time. Eventually, they became arrogant believing the planet belonged to them alone, and forced the Martians onto "reservations" or enslaved them. They even forced the Martian slaves to shapeshift into South African appearances to further this point. Martians were made to work in the fields and mine diamonds. In this, history repeated itself in a circle as the ancestors of Elon Musk and the descendants of Elon Musk became the same people.

A century prior to the Insane Kryptonian conquering of Earth, C'ecil was a young boy working in the fields with his parents. The Master was an asshole who routinely treated his slaves poorly and raped the females. Eventually, C'ecil's father gathered the courage to object to the Master.

"Hey, you, raping my wife every other day...it just ain't right," he said.

The Master shot him in the head with a laser pistol killing him instantly. C'ecil's mother was traumatized by the death of her husband and the sexual abuse. Cecil was then brought into the "Big House" where he learned the skills needed to be a...butler.

The next one hundred years were tough on Ce'cil. He left the Master and tried to make a life for himself in the Martian wilderness that had been terraformed beyond recognition. He was often homeless, getting rained on, and threatened with being lynched by the Redksins. One day, C'ecil broke into the wrong house. It was the house of J'onn J'onnz. While C'ecil was busy eating watermelon and fried chicken with a grape soda at his side, J'onn confronted him.

"You have any idea how fucked you are?" J'onn asked irritably.

"Sir, I'm already fucked," Cecil replied, his mouth smeared red from watermelon juice.

J'onn raced through Cecil's mind and saw all the fucked-up things he had gone through up to this point. He noticed Cecil had a wound on his hand trying to break in. "Let me square you away."

So, J'onn bandaged C'ecilup and gave him a job as his personal servant. J'onn made C'ecil clean his uniform, his shoes, his house, and his alcohol bottle collection to perfection. Over the years, C'ecil perfected his craft.

3017

The political situation on Mars rapidly changed in 3017. Kara Zor-El, Mon-El, and Brainiac 5 had begun their conquest of Earth and even brought their conquest to Mars. Mon-El allied himself with a Redskin Princess and the Martians in overthrowing the traditional Redskin houses. The Redskin princess and a council of Martians submitted to Kara's authority as Empress of the Sol system with conditions. Mars was given nearly complete autonomy with Redskins and Martians granted equal rights. Humans from Earth were given free visas to Mars and Redskins and Martians were given free visas to Earth. The Martians were assured that the Insane Kryptonian family would intervene should they ever face eradication, as with the White Martians, or slavery from the Redskins.

It was at this time that J'onn offered C'ecil a new opportunity. "The Empress from Metropolis came by the other day, and offered me the position of butler," J'onn said conversationally.

"Must be a top-earning job, right, boss?" C'ecil said ignorantly.

"Yeah, I told her to go fuck herself," J'onn said dismayed. "I'm just fine right here. I told her to hire you."

"I might be able to manage your house, but I wouldn't know what the fuck I'm doing in Metropolis with all those fancy superhero types," C'ecil said apprehensively. "I got no fancy words to impress them."

"The Empress is a simple girl. She appreciates bluntness, crudeness, courage, and honesty. She doesn't get offended when you talk shit. She invites it. She's not like all these uptight Redskins. She's not threatened with violence because she is the queen of violence. Trying to be fancy is just going to piss her off. No one realizes this though. I've taught you well these many years. You would be perfect. The Empress will not refuse my recommendation," J'onn told him.

Metropolis

C'ecil was brought to the Trump Hotel, a stepping stone to working at the Palace. It was a hotel Kara named in honor of America's Greatest President where she frequently stayed. In the new economy, citizens didn't pay for rooms with money. Instead, they were given a monthly hotel stay quota based on their rank. A person could decide to max out their monthly quota or not. What they could not do was shift quotas from other expenses to their hotel quota. This prevented the higher ranks from simply dominating every hotel every night. However, even when people didn't stay at the hotel, they still went to the restaurant and bar with their food/drink quota. C'ecil was given the Imperial rank of E-5 Sergeant befitting a server in a prestigious hotel. He even met Kara and Mon on one occasion.

He brought a tray with two glasses. "I hope it was not presumptuous of me to prepare you vodka martinis shaken, not stirred, after your long journey from London," he offered.

"It was," Mon said rudely.

"Shut the fuck up, Mon. God damn. Give me both," Kara said taking both glasses.

In the bar, politicians discussed what to do about the "Martian Problem". "Having Martians in our schools? Next thing you know it, we'll be fornicating with them. It could start another civil war, holy shit!" one of them complained.

Brainiac 5 observed the conversation and eyed C'ecil silently in the background. One politician asked C'ecil his opinion as he poured him a glass of whiskey. "C'ecil, what do you think about Martian children in human schools?"

"To be honest, Sir, you sound racist as fuck," C'ecil told him off.

"These Martians are all criminals. They should all be hung. That dumb son-of-a-bitch judge is trying to integrate our schools. We should impeach his ass," the politician said.

"That's going to be quite challenging," C'ecil replied.

C'ecil lived the good life. He was married to another Martian and had a couple of kids. Simply by being in the Imperial system, he got free housing, health care, and education, and his quota was higher than most. His wife, who stayed home with two kids was given an E-3 Private First Class rank just for being a mother. The two kids were automatically given E-1, Private ranks for just existing.

Still, not all was perfect. C'ecil's wife was extremely needy, emotional, a drunk, and constantly pushing C'ecil to fight against the authorities even at the risk of his job. "A Martian got beat up and thrown into the river just for looking at a human the wrong way. Damn shame. You should do something about that. You should tell all the politicians you serve to do better," she demanded.

"Bitch, you trying to get me fired?" C'ecil told her off. He then got a call from his boss which was rarely a good thing. "Yes, Sir."

"Get your green ass to the Palace. HR wants to see you," his boss told him.

C'ecil arrived promptly at the Palace and waited to be seen. In the hallway, he saw a portrait of Jeremiah Danvers. He had no clue who he was, but he seemed important. He was then escorted into an HR office where he met a fellow Green Martian, F'redie. He held the rank of O-3 Captain, a commissioned officer. He was the commander of all Palace servers.

"You, political?" he asked C'ecil. "Chicks dig guys that are political and shit."

"I can be," C'ecil said honestly.

"Good, the queen is perpetually paranoid and thinks the worst of people when they're silent and polite. She prefers everyone to speak their mind and talk shit. Unlike leaders of the past who felt politically threatened by their subordinates being outspoken, the queen embraces it. It's because she can't be threatened. She's invincible, invulnerable, and indestructible. However, that said, you must use appropriate tact. There is an art form to be the perfect servant, the perfect...hater. We have no need for obnoxious punks. What we need are professional witty courageous shit-talkers," F'redie explained.

"How did you find me?" C'ecil asked curiously.

"I didn't. Lord Dox oversees all operations in the Palace and the Trump Hotel. He sees...everything. You made quite the impression. I was quite surprised Lord Dox gave you a nod. Typically, I oversee the hiring of new butlers. So, I'm actually kind of pissed off and threatened, thinking my role here is being slowly usurped. And this has made me violently angry," F'redie said calmly.

"Well, I don't really give a shit if you feel uncomfortable," C'ecil said boldly.

"Oh, really?" F'redie challenged.

"I've been persecuted and enslaved my whole life, had the most demanding boss on Mars, and I have a family to think about. Whatever your vision is, I will follow it. And if your vision is crap, I will be the first to tell you," C'ecil said honestly.

"Well, okay then," F'redie smiled.

C'ecil was promoted to E-6 Staff Sergeant. To celebrate, he brought all his Martian neighbors over, had some fried chicken and watermelon, and got drunk as fuck. The next day, C'ecil was in his new Imperial uniform composed of black shoes, an all-black uniform featuring several pockets, his enlisted rank on his chest, and a black undershirt indicating he was enlisted. Fre'die had a similar uniform except he had an officer's rank and yellow undershirt indicating he was an operations officer.

"We have six butlers, four carpenters, two painters, seven electricians, three dishwashers, three doormen, a full kitchen staff, including a pastry chef dedicated to making nothing but crullers, and three full-time calligraphers, seven electricians, and nine engineers...," F'redie listed off.

"And this is Lord Dox," F'redie introduced as he walked toward them.

"Lord Dox, thank you for the opportunity...," C'ecil began. Brainiac 5 ignored him as he continued on his way.

F'redie continued the tour and had C'ecil greet everyone. As it happened, many of the staff were Green Martians of various enlisted ranks. "Let me clarify one thing. Do not say anything or react to anything until the queen gives you permission. Then, you can shit-talk. When the queen is already shit-talking with her guests or staff, you must create the perfect environment for the hate to swell. You must marinate the hate and you do this providing all occupants what they need to bring out their best quality hate."

One day, C'ecil entered the Queen's office to deliver coffee. Kara, Mon, and Brainiac 5 were discussing what to do about Mars, a relevant subject matter. "You want to send drone troops to Mars?" Mon asked incredulously.

"If it comes to it, yes," Kara said resolved.

"It's a fucking horrible idea. I just signed a treaty with them on your behalf. You're betraying the trust I built," Mon said.

"Anyone who trusts you is a fucking moron and deserves disappointment," Kara said scornfully.

"Fair," Mon allowed.

"What you're proposing could cause another Martian civil war," Brainiac 5 warned.

"If we don't uphold the law...who will?" Kara asked rhetorically.

"We should give it some time. We have just ended a Martian civil war and added it to the system," Brainiac 5 advised.

"Justice delayed is justice denied. What about the Constitution? The Redsksins must comply with the law," Kara said forcefully.

"Allow me to persuade them. The Redksins will back down," Brainiac 5 promised.

As they were talking, C'ecil poured Kara a cup of coffee and then promptly left the room. He rushed through the kitchen to get to the locker room. "Sup?" C'arter, his enlisted superior asked him.

"I just shit myself," C'ecil admitted as he ran off to clean up.

The kitchen staff laughed amused. "Always happens the first time," C'arter smiled.

Soon thereafter, C'ecil got a chance to redeem himself. He entered the Queen's Office with a tray. "Chicken soup, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"Set it on the table," Kara said distractedly. She was busy painting beautiful scenery from Maine. "Did you ever go to school, C'ecil?"

"I didn't go to school, Your Majesty. I grew up on a farm," C'ecil replied.

"I grew up on a farm. I mean, I lived in a house next to a farm. I never actually did any farm work, and it was only for four years," Kara said awkwardly as she tried to find something in common between her and her servant. "Got any children?"

"Two sons," C'ecil answered.

"They go to an Imperial school, right? Where humans and aliens learn together?" Kara asked.

"They do," C'ecil confirmed.

Brainiac 5 then entered the room. "What is it?" Kara asked.

"The Redksins royal guard is blocking the Martians from the schools again," he reported.

"I was given assurances the royal guard would be escorting the kids in," Kara said pissed off.

"Yeah, well, that was a lie," Brainiac 5 said obviously.

"What's wrong with that bitch? She's forcing me to give all of Mars freedom American style," Kara said peeved.

"If you're going to make a move, it must be bold and swift," Brainiac 5 advised.

"Fine, impersonate the royal guard and pretend to assassinate her. That should wake her up," Kara ordered.

C'ecil gave a wide-eyed look and promptly left the room.

3018

Kara then addressed the people of Earth and Mars. "I have ordered the execution...of my plan to terminate...the unjust and malicious...policies on Mars that segregate the Redskins from the native Martians in the schools and any other Imperial institution which is basically all institutions now. Drone troops will be sent to Mars to safeguard Martian rights until I have complete trust and assurances they're not needed."

Kara looked a little nervous in her address to her people, but the message got across. C'ecil was positively impressed by Kara putting her neck out for his people. In practice, however, segregation still remained. The government could not impose segregation, but parents had a choice of where to send their children regardless of zip code. This made school bus transportation a bit complicated, but Kara insisted.

"The time where the quality of schools is based on property taxes and the wealth of neighborhoods is over. All schools shall have the same quality of education," Kara said in a speech before a school.

In practice, however, when aliens became a significant minority in a school, human parents took their children out to another school. The aliens would then follow them to that school, and it became a game of cat and mouse between humans and aliens as to where they went to school. Brainiac 5 attempted to mitigate the situation by segregation based on occupations. He would purposefully cluster aliens in specific areas of the country or keep their population low relative to the general population. He also limited alien immigration to Earth making them rarer and rarer. Since no alien, born on Earth or not, qualified for Earth citizenship, Brainiac 5 could deport any alien he wanted for whatever reason. Kara was put in the awkward position of being an alien overlord while making aliens second-class citizens. On Mars, the answer was a lot clearer: Martians were the native people and obviously not aliens while on Mars.

So, when C'ecil and his family attended his son's high school graduation, not one human was present for it.

Still, C'ecil was dismayed that his young idealistic son failed to notice how awesome Kara was. He handed out oatmeal raisin cookies to tourists at the Palace. Initially, the tourists were pleased but then gagged on the universally hated cookie.

In the kitchen, C'ecil (E-6) worked with his colleague, C'arter (E-7), and J'ames (E-5). They immaturely made crude penises and nipples out of the dough they were working on. Mon then sneakily entered the room. It was as if death, itself, had entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Your Grace," C'arter said upon noticing him.

Mon often toyed with the staff on how he was addressed. Sometimes, he would demand the honorific of "Your Grace" to indicate he was a king-consort. Sometimes, he would demand to be called "Prince." Other times, it would be Lord or Executor. Sometimes, it was best to just call him "Sir" when he grew tired of people brown-nosing him. Only expert servants could tell what to say by Mon's facial expression of what he wanted. "Looks like a tasty treat," he said as he noticed a blob of dough resembling a breast with a nipple on top.

"Yes, Sir," C'arter said nervously.

"I don't want to say anything negative about the queen. But do you really want that spoiled rich crazy bitch as your sovereign? Think about it," Mon said nonchalantly.

The three Martians knew then they were fucked. If they agreed, they committed treason and Mon could fire or kill them all. If they disagreed, Mon could fire or kill them all for rejecting him. C'ecil gave the best BS answer for the group he could. "We cheer for you, Sir."

Mon eyed the other two back and forth to see if they would give a different response. "Thank you, C'ecil," he said finally. He turned to leave but then thought of something else. "Tell me, as members of the Martian community, what are your biggest concerns? Come on, don't be shy, come on."

"Since you ask...," J'ames dared to say.

"I do," Mon said seriously.

"The Martian help gets paid forty percent less than the human help. It's difficult for Martians to get promoted," J'ames said boldly.

"When I overthrow the queen and chop off her head, I will ensure you get the raises and promotions you deserve. Your telepathic abilities would be useful to me when that time comes," Mon said giving nothing away.

"That would be swell, Sir," J'ames said ignorantly. C'arter and C'ecil gave him dismayed looks.

"You make sure your people support me and that will exactly happen," Mon said and then slowly placed three gold coins on the table. Mon then left the room. J'ames was about to take a coin when C'arter and C'ecil stopped him.

"Don't touch that shit," C'arter warned him. "Just leave it on the table. Don't touch it."

On Earth and on Mars, the alien controversy continued. While it was not permissible to kick aliens out of institutions, many humans and Redskins refused to serve them. Brainiac 5, at the time, wasn't able to simply fire these workers and fill them with drones. Also, Kara's insistence that everyone be given a minimum income of E-1 reduced his leverage when he threatened to fire someone. It was also not illegal to refuse service. It didn't help that aliens intentionally went to places they weren't welcome to create a reaction.

"Wow, so many people are damn racist in the 31st century. I figured we would have moved past that in one thousand years," Kara remarked in the Queen's Office.

"Your naivety amuses me," Brainiac 5 said knowing otherwise.

"Look, I am the least racist person in the galaxy, the least. No one is less racist than I am. I am absolute zero on racism...but I'm at a loss as to what to do about this," Kara admitted.

"Order the Martians to shapeshift into humans and problem solved," Mon said dismissively.

"That's like...black people having to coat themselves in white paint just to get a cup of coffee," Kara rejected.

"They have a choice in the matter is all I'm saying," Mon shrugged.

Kara stared at him intently. "Oh, I see, you're making a gay reference. Fuck you."

"Just tell aliens that looking like an alien in front of humans is a mortal sin," Mon said to Brainiac 5.

"No, you won't," Kara ordered Brainiac 5. "Fire anyone on the specific grounds of racism or xenophobia in the service industry. Then quickly fill those positions with better applicants. And if you can't find any, close down the establishment. The people need to know that their morally perfect queen will not hesitate to make their lives hell in order to virtue signal. In time, we will have enough drones that it won't even matter."

"As you wish," Brainiac 5 replied.

3019

Impatient to wait every four years, Kara had a new inauguration speech every year in January in Metropolis. She also made the staff redecorate the entire palace within two hours. Kara and Mon then met with the staff, some of which were new and some of which had been there from the beginning. This time, Kon and Mara, both young children, were with them.

"I am thrilled to be working with all of you until you're either fired or retired because I'm not going anywhere," Kara smiled.

"As you can see, she wears the pants around here," Mon mocked.

"How dare you undermine me in front of the help," Kara hissed at him.

Mon and Kara then greeted all the staff by shaking their hands. At one point, Mara dropped her doll. C'ecil picked it up and gave it back to her. Mara smiled appreciatively.

As Kara went to music concerts at the Palace, Redskins on Mars continue to terrorize the Martians in organized gangs. They wore specialized hoods to block out the Martian telepathy and hide their identities. Centuries of violence and distrust between the two sides was becoming a little difficult to overcome. C'ecil had his own family drama on the matter. His son. L'ouis had gone back to Mars to instigate. Predictably, he was getting his ass kicked.

The Martian leadership came to see Kara frequently about these issues. "I have fired all workers who refuse to serve aliens for racist and xenophobic reasons and replaced them with impartial drones," Kara said defensively.

"We still have instances of non-service for religious reasons. A worker who refuses service for any reason should be fired. Every worker now works for you. You are held responsible for their actions," M'yrtan said.

"Okay, fine, but what's the point of instigating? You poke every establishment looking for people to crash out," Kara said peeved.

"Which is our right," M'yrtan reminded her. "We also want all non-service discrimination illegal in the autonomous zones." M'yrtan was referring to capitalist autonomous zones across Earth and Mars where the Imperial economic model was not present. People traded goods and services with various currencies in these places. It allowed those who could get rich to be rich if they wanted to. Those who took risk and lost could then go back to the loving arms of the Imperial system.

"Yeah, that's a no. The autonomous zones may decide who they wish to hire, fire, and serve without restriction. I have a very hands-off approach to them," Kara refused.

"You're denying Martians the opportunity to get rich on their own planet," M'yrtan said.

"Nothing stops you from creating your own autonomous zone," Kara pointed out.

"They're beating people, spraying people, and using dogs on people in these autonomous zones. They cannot be above the law," M'yrtan insisted.

"Except, they are. They have their own law. You go to these cities to instigate and crash out, accept the consequences," Kara replied.

One day, C'ecil found Kara resting on the floor. "Tell me, C'ecil. How many pills do you think I take a day?"

"None, Your Majesty. Your body is too powerful for any of them to have an effect," C'ecil said knowingly.

"That's right. Sometimes, I envy mortals. Mortals can take pills to focus, to rid themselves of depression...to die," Kara said as she got back to her feet. She had a sunken look to her. "I know your son is on Mars instigating and crashing out. He's in a Redskin prison with M'yrtan. They beat the shit out of him. But, I guess with his record, he's used to it. He's been arrested sixteen times, God damn."

"I see, Your Majesty," C'ecil replied awkwardly. "Will there be anything else?"

"No," Kara shook her head.

C'ecil then turned to leave. "You know, I never understood what your people went through. The White Martian genocide and then a thousand years of war between your people and the Redskins. It's crazy, actually. I interviewed Elon Musk a thousand years ago at Catco. I would have never thought it would be like this. Tell me, C'ecil, if I could go back in time and tell Elon Musk not to colonize Mars, would you like that?"

"Your Majesty...a Redskin killed my father and destroyed my mother's mind. I was a Redskin slave my entire childhood. They persecuted and beat my son. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't hate the Redskins for what they've done to me and my family. But if you ask me whether they should be eliminated from existence, no, Your Majesty. I do not wish that. I have hope for a peaceful coexistence. I have hope in you," C'ecil answered.

"Your son has changed my heart on this. You have changed my heart," Kara assured him.

Kara went before the people of Earth and Mars on television. "With my royal authority, I ask Lord Dox to divest all Imperial contracts and financial entanglements between the empire and free autonomous zones that do not provide all Imperial citizens the right to be served by businesses open to the public. To refuse service to any Imperial citizen is to refuse service to me. I will not force these autonomous zones to change their ways. They will have to make that decision, themselves, to prosper or suffer bankruptcy. If they can still survive economically without the empire, so be it. Those who comply will be rewarded."

Not long afterward, Ce'cil was beside himself in the locker room. C'arter came by and noticed him on the floor. "What's wrong with you?" he asked concernedly.

"The queen...has been shot," he said stunned.

"Oh, shit!" C'arter realized.

Occasionally, Mon initiated a reign of terror on the staff. "Next time I see the lights on in an empty room, I'll fire every sorry son-of-a-bitch in this house. I don't give a damn! Who do you think pays the bills around here?" Mon raged.

"Not you, Sir," C'ecil said boldly.

Mon stared at him intently and then smiled impressed. "Kara wanted you to have this." It was an E-7 Sergeant First Class rank for his uniform.

"Thank you, Sir," C'ecil said having gotten used to Mon's antics.

To celebrate his new promotion, the family got together to dance to Soul music and eat fried chicken and watermelon.

Mon took charge of the legislative agenda after passing a historic global ban on abortion. A key issue was whether it was a good idea to allow aliens to vote in human elections. Mon was personally conflicted on the matter. On one hand, giving aliens to vote would likely create riots, protests, and civil wars between angry humans and aliens over pointless elections. On the other hand, giving anyone rights and safeguarding those rights didn't sit well with him. He considered a middle ground where he gave aliens the right to vote but had no intention of enforcing it.

The situation became more complicated as the newly formed Galactic Federation started collecting more worlds. Aliens from all over the galaxy were now visiting and residing on Earth as alien...aliens. The same was happening on Mars. There was a genuine fear that aliens would swarm both worlds and sack it politically either by acquiring citizenship or being born on either planet. In the case of C'ecil and other Martian staff members, he was still a citizen of Mars but an alien to Earth. The humans of Earth didn't want Martians like C'ecil to vote in their elections. Martians were also weary of their own people, indoctrinated and residing on Earth, to be allowed to vote in their elections.

"It shall be established law in the Galactic Federation that a resident alien may apply for citizenship after fourteen consecutive years of residency. If there is any break in that residency, the clock starts over. Applying for citizenship does not guarantee citizenship. That decision will be decided by the State Department. Double citizenship shall not be permitted. If a species is not indigenous to a world, they will not be given automatic citizenship at birth and must apply. Once a citizen of Earth, they may vote in Earth elections. I will be sending this bill to the Earth Senate for approval," Mon said on global television.

The compromise was a bitter pill for both sides. Aliens knew full well that requiring fourteen years was the government's way of kicking the issue down the road. They also knew the State Department was perfectly willing to disqualify alien residency visas before the fourteen years. The bill allowed the government to appear progressive when they had many tools at their disposal to prevent aliens from ever being citizens. Still, many nativist human groups were pissed off at the idea of any alien being allowed to vote in their elections. There were also accusations of hypocrisy as Earth was dominated by alien overlords. To this, Mon had a witty reply:

"I don't have the right to vote in Earth elections and I don't have any interest in doing so," he shrugged to reporters.

When it came to Vietnam, it was super-easy, barely an inconvenience to conquer it. Still, people protested outside the Palace including C'ecil's son. Mon smirked as C'ecil served his every need while C'ecil's son was just outside protesting. More importantly, C'ecil noticed the Martian staff wasn't being compensated at the same level as the human staff. He brought this up with Brainiac 5 who oversaw all Palace operations.

"Lord Dox, the Martian staff do as much work as the human staff. I believe our rank should reflect our service here. I also feel we should have opportunities in other employment fields within the Palace. No Martian has ever been promoted to engineer," C'ecil said boldly.

"Your service has only been two years, C'ecil. You're very well-liked, but you lack the same seniority as the human staff," Brainiac 5 explained.

"I believe ability and hard work should factor more than seniority," C'ecil argued.

"Time in grade is also important, C'ecil. If I promote an individual too quickly, I may set them up for failure. It's better to not promote at all than to promote and then demote soon thereafter. Families that face demotions do not adjust well to it," Brainiac 5 said calmly.

"Like, how you demoted my wife from E-3 to E-2 once my oldest son became an adult," C'ecil said resentfully.

"Yes," Brainiac 5 agreed.

"I have to provide for my adult son while my career remains stagnant," C'ecil brought up.

"Your son made the conscious decision to drop out of school and not work a job. The empire provides a surviving minimum income, but it does not provide a luxurious minimum income. If you're not satisfied with your time here, I can reassign you to some other department of your choosing," Brainiac 5 said.

"No, Sir," C'ecil said awkwardly and left the room.

Kara had a chat with Brainiac 5 about disgruntled Martians in the Queen's Office. C'ecil happened to be in the room. "What if we try to supplant Green Power by promoting green businesses in autonomous zones on Earth? We give them a giant carrot, a big hunk of cheese, a laser pointer to these cities. Then, they all go there."

"It can be done," Brainiac 5 allowed. "It will require a detailed analysis...,"

"Fucking fly," Kara interrupted as she fired heat vision on an annoying fly that was flying around the office.

"You were saying?" Brainiac 5 asked condescendingly.

"Then, they either have the utopias they've always wanted, or they can bitch each other out as to why life sucks. I'm just tired of getting bitched at, you know. I offer to modernize their own planet with drones. They bitch about that. They say it pollutes their environment and makes them cogs in my system. Then, when the Redskins do take up my offer, they bitch about that. I give the Martians a path to citizenship on Earth and they still bitch," Kara complained.

"The Martians want affirmative action in the Imperial economy and universities to make up for centuries of oppression by the Redsksins," Brainiac 5 brought up.

"Yeah, fuck that. I want a perfect meritocracy," Kara rejected.

"A perfect meritocracy inevitably leads to near zero biological employment," Brainiac 5 reminded her.

"Okay, let's establish a Reserve economy," Kara brainstormed. "It's an economy that...doesn't really have any impact on the Imperial economy. It can help out in a pinch but it's just sort of there wasting time and resources. In this reserve economy, humans and Martians can be promoted to officers. They can even promote themselves."

"If a reservist tries to transfer back into the active Imperial economy, they will be automatically demoted," Brainiac 5 replied.

"Sure, whatever," Kara agreed.

"A reservist may be a commissioned officer, but their pay grade would still be inferior to the active Imperial economy. Enlisted personnel in the active Imperial economy would still be far more useful to me than high-ranking officers in the reserve economy," Brainiac 5 said.

"Make the appropriate adjustment," Kara allowed. "The thing about humans and Martians, I've noticed, is that they want the self-esteem boost of being promoted. If it takes them ten years to promote to the next grade, they bitch and complain about it."

"I understand the psychology," Brainiac 5 agreed. "I just find it to be a colossal waste of resources."

"Pets are a waste of resources, Barney. We feed them and take care of them because we love them," Kara reminded him. "Then, when I have given them all that and they still resist me, no mercy. Fuck'em."

"Will there be anything else, Your Majesty," C'ecil spoke up, feeling very uncomfortable about this conversation.

"Holy shit!" Kara said startled having forgotten he was in the room. "No, I'm good."

One particular troubled night, Kara was sloshed over on the couch in her Queen's Office. C'ecil worked to clean up the room that was filled with bottles. "Your father still alive, C'ecil?" Kara asked.

"No, he died when I was a child," C'ecil said painfully.

"My father, my real father died when I was a child, too," Kara said and then took a sip of her vodka martini. "Take a seat." C'ecil obliged her. "There's a lot of talk of me abdicating. I just want you to know it's never going to happen. I'm going to come out of this stronger than ever."

"Is there anything else I can get you?" C'ecil asked.

"How are your kids?" Kara shook her head.

"My youngest joined the military, the reserve component. He's a lieutenant now. He now outranks me," C'ecil smiled.

"And the other?" Kara asked.

"My oldest is still involved in protests, resistance movements, and acting the fool on Mars," C'ecil admitted.

"I know what it's like to have a perfect child and a fuck-up," Kara said referring to Mara and Kon in that order. "But, sometimes, they switch, you know. You never know how it's going to end."

"I think my oldest son is dead to me," C'ecil shook his head.

"That's heavy," Kara nodded sympathetically. "For Martians, you remember everything, dream your memories, and have profound emotions. My boss for two years in the 21st century was a Martian. On the surface, he was just an asshole. But deep down...now that I think about it...he was still an asshole. The point I'm trying to make is that I will never understand your pain, but I will do everything I can to make things better for everyone. Just give me more time."

"Your Majesty, you've only been queen for two years. For a Martian, that's only two months. You're doing just fine," C'ecil assured her.

Present Day-3025

Upon F'redie retiring, C'ecil was promoted to captain to replace him. He reconciled with his oldest son who had completed his master's and was now a member of the Martian parliament. C'ecil became a good friend of the royal family. Mon approached him one time. "I have a secret mission for you. I like to send currency to a theocratic dictatorship so they can send arms to a right-wing military junta that is battling alleged communists. My staff has been trying to get me to stop. You think you could help me keep this going?"

"Absolutely, Your Grace," C'ecil agreed.

"I appreciate your help with this and please, don't tell Kara," Mon said gratefully.

C'ecil then sat down with Brainiac 5 for another pay negotiation. As the commander, he felt it was his responsibility to address the issue. "I've been with the Palace for eight years and, all that time, the Martian help has been promoted less and given fewer opportunities to advance in other fields. And I don't think that's right. There are Martians that should have been engineers by now, years ago."

"You think so?" Brainiac 5 asked condescendingly.

"I'm going to have to have Martians and humans all given the same ranks for the same work or I'll need to be reassigned," C'ecil said boldly.

"Then, I suppose I'll be reassigning you," Brainiac 5 said unconcernedly.

"Kara said you would say that. She told me to tell you to take it up with her," C'ecil said confidently.

"But what if I don't?" Brainiac 5 questioned.

"Excuse me?" C'ecil thought he misheard.

"I'm in charge of the economy, not the Supreme Leader. The reason for why Martians are not promoted as high as humans is still a matter of seniority. The situation hasn't changed over these years," Brainiac 5 said simply. "Also, human and Martian input performance has remained constant."

"You know what? I think you're a racist, Sir. That's what I believe," C'ecil said finally. "And I'm going to expose you."

"Good, C'ecil. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. I appreciate your assertive advocacy for your people. For too long, you have been far too submissive. Your son, on the other hand, has been far too aggressive. I always seek a balance between the two and today you have finally given it to me," Brainiac 5 said pleased.

"What the fuck?" C'ecil wondered.

"The human help are actually drones, my drones. You don't have to be envious any longer," Brainiac 5 revealed.

"But...I...," C'ecil said incredulously.

"Had...casual conversations with them? Asked about their personal lives? Did you work with them in the same room? It's never happened. There's not one scene where you worked with them," Brainiac 5 said.

"Because you had us segregated," C'ecil pointed out.

"Indeed, so we could have this very moment. All of the scheduling that has kept my drones and your people apart was designed by me. It was all a social experiment to encourage you to be more assertive, for you all to be more assertive in the pursuit of your interests," Brainiac 5 said.

"All this over eight years," C'ecil said amazed.

"I apologize for not relating to your shock. Eight years for a Martian is the same as eight months for a Brainiac," Brainiac 5 replied.

"You're a bastard," C'ecil said finally.

"I'm aware," Brainiac 5 nodded. "Make sure your dress uniform is immaculate. A Palace Ball is approaching."

Soon thereafter, Kara had a chat with C'ecil. "Look who got all the Martians a raise. I knew you had it in you."

"I'm confused as to whether to take credit for it," C'ecil said confused.

"I'd like to invite you to the Palace Ball next week," Kara said.

"I'll be here, Your Majesty," C'ecil assured her. He had never taken a sick day or vacation.

"Not as a butler, but as a guest," Kara said.

"But Prince Mon-El prefers for me to serve him drinks, personally," C'ecil said dumbfounded.

"I'll take care of Mon," Kara assured him. "Just make sure your wife is keenly aware that a rightwing conservative monarch invited you to a Palace Ball when no liberal democrat did. See you next week."

"Well, okay then," C'ecil said amazed.

At the Palace Ball, C'ecil's wife showed up slightly more sober than usual in an elegant dress. C'arter and J'ames teased C'ecil by asking him if needed anything. The royals were introduced by Brainiac 5 in order of seniority. "Her Imperial Highness, Princess Alexandra, and her mistress, Ensign Kelly Olsen," Brainiac 5 introduced for everyone to hear. Alex was in a black gown that made her pregnancy bump less obvious while Kelly was in white.

"Really, Barney, what the fuck?" Alex hissed at him.

"It's okay," Kelly said slightly amused at the slight.

"It's not okay," Alex insisted.

Brainiac 5 ignored her and continued. "Her Imperial Highness, Princess Mara, and Lieutenant Bro Lee." Mara gave Alex and Kelly a disapproving glance as if the whole ball was now violently corrupted by their presence. She wore a green dress. Bro-Lee was nearly 2.5 meters tall and 150kg of pure muscle. He wore Insane armor, a light green sash around his waist, purple pants, and white boots. His hair was jet black, long, and spiky, and he had an awkward blank look on his face not accustomed to social situations with people.

"His Imperial Highness, Prince Kon-El, and, Her Imperial Highness, Princess Saora-El," Brainiac 5 introduced. Kon wore a casual blue jacket, black t-shirt, and black pants indicating how little he gave a fuck. Saora was in a more tasteful black dress.

Finally, Kara and Mon made their entrance. "Her Imperial Highness, Supreme Leader Kara Zor-El, and her consort, His Imperial Highness, Prince Mon-El," Brainiac 5 introduced. Kara was in a blue dress with a red cape. Mon was in his Insane armor and in his typical black.

C'ecil and his wife, as guests of honor, were given a table with the royal family. C'ecil couldn't help but notice small inefficiencies in the staff and how he would chew them out later. He also noticed how the staff seemed to have two faces, one for the people they serve and their real face, bored and disgruntled. He realized how he must have looked the same way when he served.

The next day, C'ecil had heard rumors about Alex and had seen her portraits everywhere in the Palace so to see her in person arguing with Kara was a bit surreal. "Alex, I want to make myself very clear, if...wait, what the fuck are we talking about?"

"Pandora, the Na'Vi, illegal resource extraction that's ruining the environment. Mining in the forests, whaling in the oceans, trash being thrown into the volcanos, radioactive contamination in the swamps, and air pollution on the plains," Alex complained.

"It's all to bring the Na'vi to the table. Once they agree to become part of the empire, we'll stop all industries there," Kara said with false sincerity.

"That sounds like bullshit. What does it even mean for them to be Imperial citizens anyway?" Alex pointed out.

"Once they become Imperial citizens, Na'Vi parents will be obliged to let their children go to our schools and get jobs, to assimilate into civilized culture," Kara said.

"That isn't their way. You can't force it," Alex argued.

"Children don't get a choice to swing in the trees and chuck spears. It's the elders and the parents preventing the children from having that choice. I'm supposed to agree to two decades of child abuse and neglect before these children decide on their own to benefit from the empire? Fuck that," Kara disagreed.

"By forcing assimilation, you make it impossible for them to choose to go back to their old ways. Their old ways will be gone, eradicated. You will be eliminating that choice," Alex pointed out.

"That's rich. We've both benefited from technologically advanced societies but you're happy to have millions, billions, trillions of sentient lifeforms in the galaxy denied basic government services. There's a reason why I don't allow children to live in the free autonomous zones. As soon as some fool does it, child protective services get involved. I would think you, of all people, would appreciate that," Kara said.

"I'll get the Galactic Federation Senate to pass a bill on this," Alex threatened.

"Knock yourself out. None of them will give a shit about the Na'Vi when it's a huge mine for Unobtanium. You, know why they called it that? Cuz, it's extremely difficult to...obtain," Kara said wide-eyed.

"Except all the worlds that aren't benefiting and envious of those who are," Alex pointed out.

Kara raised her eyebrows at that. "If there is such a bill, I will veto it."

C'ecil continued his work at the Palace giving kids oatmeal raisin cookies. Finally, he had a chat with Kara about a matter of great importance. "Are you sure about this?" Kara asked shocked and appalled.

"I wanted you to be the first one to know," C'ecil said respectfully.

"But you're the best butler here. You're like family, C'ecil. You're my Alfred Pennyworth," Kara said stunned.

"I'm sure you'll manage, Your Majesty," C'ecil said resolved.

"Well, you've served your...empire well, C'ecil. After eight years, you deserve to take some vacation," Kara allowed.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," C'ecil said appreciatively.

"You know, this whole civil rights issue on Pandora. I sometimes fear I'm on the wrong side of it. What if I'm just...completely, absolutely, comprehensively, entirely, perfectly, unconditionally fucking wrong? What if I am bat-shit insane? Is anything even real?" Kara asked as she found herself in an existential crisis.

"I don't know the right answer, Your Majesty. I would be just as scared as you to be wrong. But what I do know is that everyone in the empire wants you to keep things going on Pandora as usual...and your sister does not," C'ecil replied.

"Well...shit," Kara realized.

During his vacation, C'ecil kept working. This time he was helping his oldest son's campaign to be the Prime Minister of Mars. With the Martians a minority on their own planet, it was tough to persuade enough Redskins to vote for L'ouis. In the end, the Martian Democratic Party won a majority of the seats and L'ouis was made Prime Minister. As a formality, Kara technically appointed the prime minister.

C'ecil and L'ouis came back to the Palace for the official act. "Let me show you the way," C'ecil said proudly as he escorted his son to Kara's Queen's Office.

Author's Notes: The Butler is the African American equivalent of Forest Gump. Even though it deviates a great deal from the IRL history of the Butler in question, it focuses on a lot of issues like Forest Gump. It's also the anti-Forest Gump in the sense that it promotes an opposing look of the Cold War era. A lot of the references in this chapter is based on AOS Next Generation Seasons 1-7. Some of you will recall these details and some of you may be lost in the sauce. Either way, I think the message of this chapter is to be honest in the face of great power and one achieves recognition for honesty with great service.