The primary beam of the Mercy of Silence didn't fire a world-ending blast. Instead, it stayed locked onto the Dyson-Ring, a jagged umbilical cord of violet lightning connecting the ship to the sun.
"Sarge, we've got enough power to crack the planet three times over!" Vance yelled over the roaring hum of the overcharged deck. "Why aren't we firing?"
Kane stood at the viewport, his eyes solid white, his skin radiating a heat that blurred the air around him. "Because if we kill them, they become martyrs. If we keep them in the dark, they become subjects."
"Broadcast to the planet," Kane commanded.
Sully's fingers flew across the light-arrays. "Broadcasting... every screen on Aurelia is yours, Kane."
Kane didn't look at a camera. He looked at the golden world below, where billions of "High-Men" were staring at the sky in terror.
"People of Aurelia," Kane's voice was a low, tectonic vibration. "You spent ten thousand years watching our worlds grow so you could harvest the fruit. Today, the fruit has grown teeth. I am not going to kill you. I am going to own you."
He gestured to the Dyson-Ring.
"As long as my ship is docked to your sun, your lights only stay on if I allow it. Your ships only fly if I say so. Earth is no longer a 'Harvest Lot.' Earth is the Capital of the Void Sector."