“Lord Marmaduke, Lieutenant Mira Choi, Jane’s Defense Weekly,” she said crisply. “V’ren military doctrine is based on naval supremacy and rapid orbital denial. You now command their loyalty—and their infrastructure. But Earth doesn’t have a unified planetary defense, and the big players are watching. So here’s the question: Are you planning to build your own deterrent force—or just hoping to never need one?”
“It’s early days, Mira,” Matt said, resisting the tug of Captain tone. “We’ve started the conversation—but right now, we’re still in the pre-meeting coffee-and-donuts phase. Everyone bullshits about everything except the meeting we all know is coming.
“Do I hope we never have to defend the Sol system? Absolutely. But none of us are blind. We’ve begun studying who our adversaries might be—on Earth and beyond.
“These V’ren? They’re exactly what they claim: a colony fleet, attacked en route, forced to divert. Any government could have reached out and said: Welcome. Here’s a new option. I did.
“And with the help of a few neighbors, I could—on paper—absorb every V’ren now arriving. Not just onto my lands, but into the holdings of the family trust.
“So I made an offer to the so-called major players—the ones still calling the Heartland a wasteland. I told them: you’ve each got hundreds of thousands of square miles you haven’t touched since the Collapse. You’re tired of fighting each other over whose forgotten corner is whose. Let me take it. I’ll make it productive. And I’ll put a timeline on that promise your defense contractors can’t.”
Before Mira could follow up, a ripple in the press line drew both their attention. A girl in cargo shorts and a sunflower-yellow tee jogged up the side path, her stride easy but her expression pure mission mode. She didn’t raise her voice, just walked straight up and tugged Matt’s sleeve like she’d done it a hundred times before.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, glancing at Mira politely. “It’s important.”
Matt bent to listen, his brow ticking up—not alarmed, just informed. He nodded.
“My goddaughter,” he said to Mira, straightening. “She’s just reminded me that even in a system with a seven-thousand-person chain of command, sometimes the fastest way to get something done is to cut straight to the top.”
Mira arched a brow. “Field dispatch?”
“Close. Raccoon invasion at the koi pond near the west pavilion. Apparently, it’s ‘ruining the vibe.’”
He handed the girl his glass. “Find Gary. Tell him about their evil imperial ways.”
She nodded, spun on her heel, and disappeared back into the crowd with swift, sure steps—no mud on her shoes, no wasted motion.
Matt turned back to Mira, half-smile still playing. “Deterrence is good. But knowing whose kid will come find you when the pond’s gone sideways? That’s what keeps this place running.”
“That kind of trust,” she said, “doesn’t come from systems. It comes from people believing you’ll show up when it counts.”
She paused, weighing something in his face.
“So here’s my last one,” she said. “You’ve built a place where the lights stay on, the kids run to the boss instead of from him, and no one’s afraid to tug your sleeve in front of the press. But if the world outside still sees this as a fluke—or worse, a fiefdom—what do you call it?”
Matt’s eyes followed the motion of a group filtering in from the promenade—V’ren silhouettes, familiar even in the soft lantern light. Their movements were fluid, clipped, practiced. Guests drifted aside without needing to be asked.
“Home,” he said simply.
He gave Mira a nod and a quiet smile. “Excuse me. My other family’s come to collect me.”
Mira stepped aside with a knowing look. “I’d say they’ve earned it.”
