In the
language of Kilrah there was no such term, the word having filtered into the
language from the  Hari  during the war of three eight-of-eights years past.
For the Hari such disgusting practices appeared to  have been their means of
selecting who would rule, a chaotic and degrading system that left them ripe
for conquest
     "What  purpose would  it serve?"  Thrakhath asked.  "After all, I would
then rise  to power,"  and even  as he  spoke  the  words  he felt  foolish,
realizing that  if Jukaga were planning to kill his grandfather, he would be
killed as well.
     He fell  silent  for  a moment, lowering his head to  lap up a  gulp of
wine.
     "We  can't simply denounce him," the Emperor said. "The evidence is far
too  flimsy, a  mere hint, an  inquiry as to  who  would be  on the security
detail guarding our cruiser the night before we leave for the Pukcal, but it
fits him and what he has become."
     Prince Thrakhath nodded in agreement.  There was no denying that Jukaga
was far too right in many of his criticisms of how the war had been run.  He
alone,  out of nearly  all  the  Kilrathi, had taken the time  and effort to
truly study the humans. It was, after  all, his assignment as head of spying
to learn the secrets of the enemy and how they thought.
     That fact in and of itself had  been troubling. In the past victory had
come so quickly and with  such assurance that there was little or no need to
study  the enemy;  they were merely prey to be hunted down and exterminated.
The  Mantu  did not count; their onslaught  had come suddenly  and with near
overwhelming power, and then they had simply disappeared back into the void,
apparently threatened  by another unknown race. The  human war, however, had
dragged on for  years.  The  exposure to them had been constant, even to the
point of having a city's worth of human slaves right here in Kilrah, some of
them  even  laboring in the  subterranean caverns  below  the  palace.  Such
contact had to, in the end, bring about changes. Jukaga had embraced them in
order  to understand and  thus defeat  them. It had thus  introduced to  him
other ways of thinking as well.
     But to assassinate? The mere thought of  the  alien word was repulsive,
it was killing without  any  honor, without challenge.  It was  done in  the
dark, without any hope of then picking up the fallen sword  of the slain  in
order to take his mantle of power and honor.
     "If we both were  killed," Thrakhath said, "there is no direct heir. In
the  chaos that followed,  as head of  his hrai, he  would be in position to
take  the  throne  himself by  playing off  one  faction against the  other,
something which he is a master at."
     He  said  the words  softly.  The shame of even thinking it was hard to
bear.  There was no denying the  horrifying fact that the seed of his family
was weakening. His grandfather had sired  many  litters, most  of  them born
dead, with but two  sons surviving. His father had actually been executed by
direct order of the Emperor, his uncle killed in the first days of the war.
     He was now  the only heir, and not one  son had  been  born  to  him, a
sickly daughter  his only surviving offspring from a single litter, and that
from a lowly  concubine  of the  second  order. It was a humiliation  almost
beyond bearing.  He should have sired  dozens of offspring by now. He felt a
deep and lasting shame. War was the only outlet left to him to vent his rage
over his failure on the mating couch.
     There  were  a number  of  cousins descending  from  his  grandfather's
sister,  so many that the chance of blood feud  and civil  war was  the most
likely result.  Is that what Jukaga  wanted, a civil war?  He thought of his
cousins. It would be easy enough to trigger a dynastic  struggle  with them,
and Jukaga could  weave his way through the alliances, weakening  the family
until finally it would be his own hrai that would be the strongest and could
then finish them off. It  would be a civil war unlike  any fought since they
had first ventured off their home world over eight eight-of-eights ago.
     It was a dreadful thought. He had always assumed that in the passage of
years he  would either sire a son to succeed him,  or, when he was  old,  he
would choose a cousin  to sit upon the golden throne. His choice  would then
ritually kill him and thus take the sword and throne by right of blood.
     "We cannot kill him," the Emperor said, "not now. There is first of all
the  simple  fact that  his  plan for  the war  has  so far  indeed  worked,
degrading as it is. The humans  have been placed off guard,  our shortage of
transports  is  being  rectified,  and  the  new  fleet  is  moving  towards
completion. If  we ordered his  death it would  upset that plan,  and beyond
that, appear  to  be an act of jealousy.  The other hrai leaders  forced his
return  and the killing of him out of hand would bring their wrath down upon
us. There is no  denying  the  fact that, like it or not, his plan pulled us
out of a difficult impasse."
     Thrakhath nodded in agreement.
     "And  the  onus  of  such  an  act  we can place upon  his  shoulders,"
Thrakhath replied with a smile.
     "There is the other fact as well," the Emperor continued. "He heads the
operation of our spies. He knows perhaps even more than I do. His operatives
are everywhere. Any attempt to  take him would be  known long before we were
ready to strike."
     The  Emperor  stood up  and went over to stare  at a  tapestry  hanging
behind the throne, which  showed  an ancient hunt scene, all the time making
sure to stay within the stasis field that blocked all detection devices.
     Thrakhath looked back at the Emperor, who looked at him sharply.
     "Could your fleet take the humans now?" he asked.
     "It  is not certain.  Four  carriers are now  ready,  the fifth  in two
eights of days."
     "Could you win?"
     All  the variables, all  the calculations said that a swift attack with
five new carriers would succeed,  though  there  was a  slim chance that the
losses would be heavy.
     "Remember, the humans have weakened themselves," the Emperor said, "and
our traitor in their ranks keeps us informed."
     Thrakhath  nodded.  He  did  not  want  to take any  risks and  then he
wondered if this peace had made him weak as well. War was risk, that was the
thrill of it.
     "We can take them with five carriers,  my lord. However,  we would have
to strike with full and overwhelming surprise. Any  warning before  we cross
the frontier could give them time to prepare a defense."
     "Then  be sure  that this unconfirmed report of their having a spy ship
in  our  space  is acted upon at once. They  are  not  to get through or see
anything, that is still crucial."
     Thrakhath nodded in agreement.
     "If  he makes this attempt and we survive, politically it  would  still
make  us look weak, having  first agreed  to this disgusting peace and  then
suffering the indignity of having someone attempt to strike us."
     "Then kill him now and be done with it," Thrakhath snarled.
     "No. We would  never have  the evidence we  need, he is too cunning for
that.  Let  him make his strike, but then  let us shift the  blame on to the
humans.  It  will serve a two fold purpose  of discrediting his peace effort
and help to enrage our  own against  both him and  the humans. I think it is
time as well to have a talk with our ambassador in their camp. He has waited
too long for his revenge, let him have it.

     The  radar burst  pinged  across  the  screen  and  Jason  sat  silent,
watching, looking  over at his counter electronics officer. She was  hunched
over her own  screen staring at  it as if  mesmerized.  The young woman, she
could  not  have been more than twenty, punched  an order  into a flat touch
screen, absently reaching up occasionally to push an unruly wisp of red hair
from her  freckled forehead. He felt  as if she was  not much beyond being a
very young child, and the thought struck him as almost funny. He was,  after
all, only twenty-seven, the youngest  carrier commander in the fleet. In any
other type of  life  the woman  would have been very dateable. Out  here, in
this  situation, the  difference  seven additional years  of war added was a
chasm almost too deep to comprehend. Another ping washed over the screen.
     "They're close, they're very close," Vance whispered.
     Jason felt that if he went to a  topside view port  he could almost see
the Kilrathi scout ship. A hundred thousand clicks was  damn near  next door
in space.
     "Still an unfocused radar sweep," the electronics officer announced.
     Another ping hit
     "Doppler shifting away, he's moving past us, sir."
     Jason let out a sigh of relief.
     "Keep secure  for silent  running," Jason  announced  and  he  left the
bridge, followed by Vance.
     "I thought you were crazy  to  land like this,"  Vance  said  and Jason
looked over at him and smiled weakly.
     "Maybe I am."
     The  move was  unorthodox  in the extreme.  Less  than twelve hours ago
Vance's  team had picked up a series of orders shifting more than  a hundred
scout and  recon ships into the sector they were now occupying and  to cover
all  the  surrounding jump  points.  Apparently  something  had  tipped  the
Kilrathi off to their presence. His first thought was to run and hide inside
the  atmosphere  of a gas giant but there were  none to be found within  the
system. There  was,  however, a green housed world  cloaked in heavy clouds,
its  surface  boiling hot  and  scored by  deep canyons. Placing  two  light
carriers down  on the surface under the lip of an overhanging cliff had been
tricky. If discovered they  would be near defenseless. A light fighter armed
with just a couple of antimatter warheads would  make short work of them  if
they were caught and unable to lift off in time.
     So far the subterfuge had worked,  and with the planet's extremely slow
rotational period, Vance  had been able to keep a watch on but  signals from
the direction  of Kilrah,  now  three hundred and eighty  light  years away.
However, the Hari system was blocked by the bulk of the planet.
     The only  problem  was that the scout ships simply refused to leave and
had  thus kept  them  pinned  for three  days,  out of  touch  with Paladin,
wherever he might now be.

     "Here we go, laddie, jump in ten seconds."
     Paladin cinched up his safety  harness and waited.  He spared  a  quick
glance over at Ian who sat placidly next to him.
     This next jump was totally blind, leaping into a jump point without any
idea where they were going. The last three jumps had taken them further than
any human had ever ventured before, far beyond the outer run of the Kilrathi
Empire and into the completely uncharted  realm of the  long dead  Hari. The
burst signal they were  tracking down had fired off again only six hours ago
and was very close, in a star system less than eight light  years away. They
had slipped through the sector using the Stealth, though it appeared  as  if
one  of  the  dozen picket  ships  they  had  passed had at  least gotten  a
temporary lock on them. In a couple of  seconds he would know  if this  jump
would take them to their goal.
     The jump transit hit, blurring  vision.  The  stars ahead  disappeared.
Paladin swallowed hard and waited. Maybe I'm getting too old for these sorts
of games, he thought. Twenty years of fighting is pressing  the edge  of the
envelope just  a  little too much.  He pushed the thought  aside,  no  sense
dwelling on it.  Besides, what the hell would I do with  myself  to kill the
boredom?
     A new starfield  snapped into  focus and at the same instant  the radar
detection alarm started to shriek its warning.
     He leaned over in  his chair, punching the alarm off and turned to look
at the readout screen.
     "Well, lad, we're being tracked," he announced, trying to keep the fear
from  his voice. It always amazed  him how all the others looked to  him  as
someone with ice  water in  his  veins. If  only they really  knew  just how
gut-wrenching the fear could really be.
     He  watched  his  screen  as optical  mounts turned, tracking  down the
incoming  paths  of the radar,  passively searching out the darkness for the
enemy.
     "Got  one sighted, make that two,  now  three, the  closest standing at
thirty eight thousand clicks, a light corvette."
     Another  high  energy radar burst  snapped on them, this  one  a narrow
focus beam. It could only mean that the Cats were on to him.
     He spared a quick look up at the unknown  system they had just entered.
The jump point was fairly close into the systems sun, a standard class M. He
continued the optical sweep.  He'd  have  a  good five  minutes  before  the
corvette would start to close. Now that they'd been found out, they could at
least do a quick scan before jumping back out and shaking off the pursuit in
the system which they had just jumped from.
     "Getting  an awful  lot of sublight radio traffic in this  sector," Ian
announced. trying to get an optical lock on the signals."
     Ian, working the long range optical scanners,  stayed hunched  over his
screen. A full radar sweep  would  have been better, but  they would be long
gone before  the first returns even started to bounce back. The  use  of the
narrow band translight pulse was out  of the question. They'd have  to  drop
completely  out of Stealth and it'd reveal their true mission to the  picket
ships.
     "Paladin, switch to my  screen," Ian whispered, his voice suddenly high
and tense.
     Paladin switched into the  long range optical scan, his eyes  straining
as Ian spun the optics up to their highest  magnification, which  could pick
up an  object the size of a one pound  coin from two hundred thousand clicks
out.
     "My lord," Paladin gasped, "hit the holo recorder switch."
     "Already running," Ian replied.
     Paladin  stared  at  the screen  in  disbelief when  Ian  punched  in a
computer enhancement with scale gradients  superimposed over the image. They
were looking at a ship that was at  least fifteen hundred  meters in length.
Several seconds later the computer, now armed with more information, cleared
the first image from the screen  and  replaced  it with  a higher resolution
enhancement, with the beginning of an analysis of what they were looking at.
     "Fifteen hundred  and eighty  meters, estimated half a million ton bulk
weight," Paladin  whispered. "Range  102 million clicks,  orbiting the  only
planet in the system.
     "Dozens of  ships orbiting that planet," Ian announced,  "coming up now
on second screen."
     Paladin spared a  quick glance  over to  the  secondary images forming,
three  more  ships like  the first one, half  a dozen more apparently  still
under  construction, a dozen cruiser type  vessels that were bigger than the
old Concordia CH battleships he could only guess would  be the word for them,
drawing the  term out of ancient nautical  history. Part of  the screen  was
tallying off a count  of transports,  more than  a  hundred of  them  either
docked into  what appeared  to be an  orbital construction yard that  filled
half a dozen cubic kilometers of space, or hovering around it
     The alarm went  off  again,  warbling  with a high  insistent tone  and
Paladin turned to look back at his tactical.
     We've  got  company, laddies. Looks like two  Stealths  just  jumped in
behind us. Prepare for evasive!"
     "We'll lose the visual lock, Ian shouted. "I  don't have a full read on
it yet."
     Paladin  weighed the variables and  in less  than half  a dozen seconds
from the sounding of the second alarm he came to his  decision. Turning back
to his main screen he cleared it of the optical and punched in the order for
a translight beam  sweep,  dropping his  ship out of Stealth mode. The pulse
went  out, even  as he swung his ship hard  over into  an evasive. The first
Stealth already had a lock on him and dropped a missile which he assumed was
one  of the new and more  deadly IFFs.  Before  the missile was even clearly
away Paladin popped a scrambler, a decoy pulsing with  a standard Confed IFF
code and capable of reflecting back a radar image of a fleet light corvette,
a counter he had rigged up based upon Ian's unpleasant experience.
     Ian looked  over  at  him in  surprise and grinned, as  the transponder
snapped to life. It was a clear give away  as to  who they really were along
with the translight pulse sweep. Seconds  later the  data came sweeping back
in with a high resolution read of the enemy fleet. The first missile at  the
same time streaked into the decoy and detonated. Two more missiles swept out
from the Stealths which  were turning  to  follow Bannockburn in its evasive
and Paladin punched out another  decoy while at the same time launching half
a dozen dumb fire flechette bolts from  his rear tubes that would fill space
behind him with  thousands of nail-sized shot that  could  rip a  fighter to
shreds if it got caught in the spread.
     Even as he piloted the ship he watched the other screen. A  green flash
indicated that the pulse had been successfully read and stored by the ship's
computer.
     "Check it!" Paladin shouted.
     "We've got good data," Ian replied.
     "Load it  along with the optical read  and our coordinates into a burst
signal, aim it back towards Tarawa."
     "Loaded!"
     Paladin toggled a switch into the burst signal line.
     "Green one, green one, this is green two, am under attack, cover blown,
repeat cover blown, get the hell out and back to the barn."
     He hit the burst signal  button and the light; in the cabin momentarily
dimmed as  nearly all the  ship's  energy  was diverted  to powering out the
signal across the hundreds of light years of space back to Tarawa.
     At  least  they'd  have  the information even  if  they  bought it.  He
realized that in the scheme of things his job was done, he had uncovered the
suspected  fleet. Within minutes Tarawa would  have the information and it'd
blow the lid right off the armistice when it came out that the Kilrathi were
building  the  ships  in  clear  violation  of  the   terms.  The  political
ramifications  would be explosive, he realized.  At  the very least Rodham's
government  would  fall. It'd also  mean  that the war  would be back on. He
thought again of what he'd just uncovered and the images still locked on the
secondary screen chilled him.  The carriers were more than  twice  as big as
anything now  in the fleet. Even if every ship was still active and on  line
the new Kilrathi ships had the power to do anything in space.
     The Cats undoubtedly  knew  that their cover  had just been  blown. The
only hope  was to fully  remobilize before the ships already completed could
be moved  up into  action  and meet them on  the frontier.  If  they  gained
confederation space with our defenses down it was over.
     The two missiles  hit  the  second  decoy  and detonated.  The Stealths
dropped out of masking and came to full visual, transferring their energy to
neutron  guns  and laser.  A shot lanced  into  the portside  stabilizer  of
Bannockburn and Paladin pulled hard  to starboard, lining  up  a  deflection
shot on one  of his  tormentors.  He  flared off half a dozen more flechette
rounds, followed by two dumb  fired bolts. The  flechette rounds broke open,
each deploying a  spread of  sixty thousand nail-sized shot across a hundred
meter wide piece of space. The wave slammed into the  Stealth,  shredding it
to ribbons and the ship silently detonated.
     The picket ships were already racing in to join the  fray, their  speed
well up  past a  thousand  clicks  a second with  maneuvering  scoops  fully
closed.
     "Turning in on jump  point. Get ready for uncalibrated jump in  fifteen
seconds!" Paladin shouted.
     Another laser  burst  hit  Bannockburn  dead  astern,  overloading  the
shields,  cutting  into the Y-axis maneuvering thrusters, and Paladin cursed
as he purged the thrusters fuel lines before they detonated.
     He  spared a  quick thought for the message he  sent  out,  hoping that
Tarawa was at least still alive to  get it, otherwise this whole  damn thing
was for naught. "How the hell did I ever get into this business?" he shouted
even as the jump transit hit.

     "We've got it"
     Jason  looked up  at  Vance who had  not even  bothered to knock before
bursting into his cabin.  The  normally unflappable director of intelligence
seemed almost giddy with excitement.
     "Got what?"
     "The signal damn it, the signal. Come on, I'll show you."
     Jason followed Vance  back down the  corridor into  the fighter bay. He
had a flash memory of  the same corridor, running towards the bridge when it
was hit by the Kilrathi suicide pilot, killing O'Brian, the first captain of
the Tarawa, the corridor decompressing when the hull was shattered
     They  reached  the end of the  corridor, the two security guards  still
requiring that even Vance show ID and undergo a corona laser scan. It struck
him as a  bit absurd, here they were hiding on a planet's  surface,  no  one
could possibly sneak  aboard to impersonate Vance, and the man had come down
the corridor only a minute before. But  he knew that security above all else
required no relaxation.
     He showed his ID as well and leaned into the corona scanner.
     The  guards opened  the  doorway into the bay  and  saluted,  the  door
slamming shut behind them.
     The  D-5 team  was gathered in a knot  around what was Vance's cubicle,
and to Jason's surprise he saw  bottles of champagne being passed around. He
was  about  to  raise an  objection  to such  an  open  violation  of  fleet
regulations  but  then  realized that  fleet  regs no longer applied,  since
officially they were not part of the fleet,  and in  fact officially did not
even  exist. Intel people  had always struck him as a little strange and  he
realized that perhaps they needed to blow off steam like this otherwise they
would have cracked  under the pressure long ago. They were no different than
pilots in that respect.
     The crowd parted for Vance, patting him on the back.
     "Good  job, people, now let's finish our  party and get back  to  work,
there's a hell of a lot to be done before this mission is finished"
     The crowd seemed to immediately sober up and drifted away back to their
stations.
     "Here's what all the excitement is  about. I thought you should know in
case anything happened."
     "Anything happened?"
     "We could take a hit to this bay and our entire team gets  wiped out. I
want someone off this deck  to know what  we've just found out I want you to
remember the message but you are to immediately, and  forever, forget how we
found out"
     Jason nodded in agreement
     Vance pointed  to a two dimensional screen. On the right side was  what
Jason assumed was phonetically translated  Kilrathi, on the left long series
of  white  blocks, and  occasional  words  in  English  which  were  partial
translations of the message.
     "When Geoff left  he went back amongst other reasons,  to have ConFleet
send  out a false message  which stated that  our primary  matter-antimatter
assembly  plant  on  the moon  had  been  destroyed  due  to  an  accidental
detonation.  As  a  result no  new weapons would  be  delivered  for several
months. The message of course was a complete fabrication.
     An hour ago we  picked up this message from Kilrah  to their Hari  base
and cracked part of it."
     Jason leaned over to look at the screen.
     Most of  the message  was untranslated but one line  highlighted in red
leaped out  at  him  .  . .  "Remove target  2778A on  moon of nak'tara from
primary strike list Accident has destroyed target, . . ." there were several
lines untranslated . . . "shortage in antimatter weapons produced from 2778A
expected, will update."
     Jason looked back up at Vance.
     "They took the  bait. We broadcast the false message  on a code we knew
they had already cracked. Their  listening post, most  likely right in their
embassy office  picked it up and passed  it back  to  Kilrah. Nak'tara means
Earth.  It means that whatever it is they're preparing out there in Hari  is
being aimed  for an  attack straight  at Earth.  Damn it, the  bastards  are
getting ready to strike."
     Jason leaned back  in the chair and closed  his eyes for  a  moment. He
could  understand  the  elation of  Vance's  crew.  Their  job  was  to  get
information and they had just pulled out a gold nugget of information unlike
anything found in years. They had reason to celebrate. But it  meant as well
that the armistice was nothing more than a sham. Though he had assumed it to
be so from the beginning, there had always been a small part of him that had
hoped against hope that maybe the peace was  real after all. This was a dark
proof that shattered the dream.
     Damn all of  them, the Kilrathi,  the political leaders back home  that
had led them into this fix, damn all of them.
     "Think we should lift  off and get the hell out of  here?" Jason asked.
"We could punch our way through the picket screen.
     Vance shook his head.
     "And bring back what? One partially decoded message as proof. The peace
party crowd would say it  was cooked  up  to restart the war.  A lone  burst
signal does not an ironclad case make."
     "They could be moving at any time now. We should be alerting  ConFleet,
they'll believe us."
     "Son, ConFleet will believe us,  but they're the  only ones. You've got
to remember  this  as  well.  We  don't  exist as far as  the  government is
concerned. There aren't more than half a dozen people off this ship who even
know  we're  out here. How do you think it'd  be  presented if we go rushing
back  home and stand  up to announce that we  parked this ship clear on  the
other side of the Empire in clear violation of the armistice? The real truth
of  what we found would  be lost in the screaming and protests not only from
the Kilrathi but  from some of our own  people as well.  It'd also blow  the
cover on  this D-5 system. That's one of the problems with  intelligence. If
we  make  public  what  we've found, the  Kilrathi will  figure out just how
capable our  surveillance is  and change their procedures and  it  might  be
years before we can break it back down again."
     Jason nodded. They'd need something hard, clearly recorded visuals, and
even then  some  people would  claim it was a  fake  out. Hell, the Kilrathi
would  most likely have to start kicking down the front  door  before anyone
would act.
     "So we just sit here and wait."
     "Too bad  this planet screens  us  from your friend  Paladin.  Maybe he
might have something by now," Vance replied. "Hell, we're stuck here, unable
to move and one ship out to scout. I doubt if he's even got within a hundred
light years of their base."

     * * * * *

     Standing up to stretch, Prince Thrakhath growled softly as he continued
to look at the screen which showed the latest intelligence report.
     The  intelligence  report  from Jukaga matched  that  of what  his  own
military chain of command had stated. Jukaga most likely knew that Thrakhath
had  his  own  lines  of  communications,  and since the incident took place
within  a  military  command  district  he  would find out about  it  almost
immediately.
     Someone,  almost  undoubtedly  from the  Confederation, had  penetrated
right into the very system where the new fleet  was  being  constructed. The
translight  radar sweep could only  have been done by a very  well outfitted
spy ship, as no smuggler could afford to carry  such equipment. Beyond that,
the ship had been using Stealth masking. The fact that the humans had either
learned  the  secret of Stealthing or captured such equipment  was stunning.
They were on to something. The question now was whether  the information had
gotten back  to  the Confederation and their fleet command. No burst  signal
could possibly cross such a  distance. The spy ship had sent out three burst
signals  so  far,  all  of  them  aimed towards the Paghk  System,  where  a
suspected ship  was  still being hunted. But no  burst signal  had come from
that system to relay the message on.
     No, Confleet did not yet know.
     He turned to a holo projection, ordering up  a map of the Paghk system,
and  then ordered a projection of  jump lines and systems  back to where the
spy ship had been sighted. Next he ordered in a display of where the spy was
now  located, the position of ships in pursuit and where nearby ships  might
be  located  to move in to aid the chase. Finally he ordered a projection of
jump lines from the Paghk system back towards the Confederation ship.
     The  holo field was a maze of blue lines, blinking  lights representing
ships, and steady yellow  lights representing the array  of stars which were
terminus points for the jump lines.
     He studied it intently, shifting,  moving in the focus, calling up more
data,  formulating plans, then  shifting  the  field yet  again  to  examine
another  part,  a  side  screen  scrolling  out  data  on  the various ships
available.
     Yet this was  no  simple  intercept  operation. There was  a  political
consideration as  well, involving Jukaga, and just what he might be doing in
regards  to this  new situation. As he studied the holo projection Thrakhath
developed his plan.
     He was interrupted  by a  paging call. It  was the Emperor on  an  open
line.
     "It is time that we leave for the ceremony," the Emperor said  and then
clicked off.


        CHAPTER EIGHT

     "We've picked up a threefold increase in signal traffic within the last
six hours, chief."
     Vance nodded  wearily, looking through the  report handed to him by one
of his assistants. He  was exhausted. Against all rules of proper procedure,
he had put his people on eight  hour on, four hour off duty shifts.  He knew
exhaustion was  cutting into their performance, that it'd  be  best to  give
everybody a day off to  unwind,  but it was getting too hot. Earlier  in the
day they had  made a quantum  jump  in cracking Fleet Code  A,  bringing the
translations  up to nearly sixty percent.  It was increasingly revealing the
full  extent  of the conspiracy, ranging from continual updates of  military
actives and deployments around Earth, but also a thousand other details down
to spare part requests, and shipping orders for the transport fleet that was
slipping deep out into Hari space, hauling the millions of tons  of supplies
needed to  build  a  new  fleet from scratch.  A  signal earlier in the  day
reported  the  transfer   of  more  than  a  thousand  pilots,  their  plane
maintenance crews and the fighter craft off of carriers in drydock, and thus
supposedly deactivated to the reserves, to the new fleet.
     Something was definitely up. The Kilrathi were acting, but on what, and
for what reason? And now the signal increase.
     "We're also getting  ship to  ship communication  increase  within this
system. Two light cruisers have moved in along with one heavy  cruiser  just
detected."
     That made Vance sit  up  and take notice. He looked at the  report that
the analyst  pointed  out on the  screen,  a  real time  translation  of the
messages, broadcast on a low priority code racing across the screen.
     "They're  setting up for an intercept from the  looks of things," Vance
said "Send a messenger down to Captain Bondarevsky, tell him to come here at
once."
     There  were times when security got  on  his nerves. All  communication
lines  between the fighter bay and the rest of the ship had been  sealed off
based upon  the  near infinitesimal chance that a member of the ship's crew,
and one of his own people might collaborate in trying to get information off
the ship.
     The analyst turned and started for the door while Vance punched over to
his head  of Alpha  team security, informing the captain to  let the analyst
pass into the ship and return with Jason.
     A  side channel suddenly  leaped into  activity on  the display screen,
originating from  inside  the system they were now  occupying. It was one of
the standard Confleet bands. But from where?
     The D-5 had already  locked on to it, a reflected signal skipping  over
the  horizon of  the planet, the message breaking up. "Just what the hell is
this?"  Vance whispered,  turning more of  the  computer's power  loose from
other activities to focus in on the signal and enhance it.
     It was an audio signal, and he turned on a speaker.
     "Green one, Green one, this is Green two over."
     "That's Paladin!"
     Vance turned to see Jason coming up behind him.
     "Green one, where the hell are you, am under attack, over.
     "Where's it coming from?" Jason asked.
     "Looks like from directly on the other side of the planet. Getting some
skip through the atmosphere, wait a second."
     He typed in a quick order and the D-5 turned one  of  its antenna array
to  aim at  the  small  moon  of the planet which was  nothing more than  an
oversized rock orbiting half a million clicks overhead.
     "Getting a reflection  signal from the  moon as well, give  me a second
here . . ." and he punched in another command.
     "There, got it.  Triangulate the signal  as coming  from  near directly
behind us, thirty five million clicks back."
     "Straight back  towards  the  jump  point  towards  Hari,"  Jason said,
turning to look at a holo map of  the system which one of Vance's assistants
activated, a blinking yellow dot showing where Paladin must be.
     "We're getting in the clear attack signals from the Kilrathi  cruisers,
one of them is launching fighters," the assistant announced.
     "They're moving in to cut Paladin off," Jason  said quietly, looking at
the  map  which  was  now showing the enemy  ships  in  the  sector. Several
corvettes  were  already  moving to  set up a picket across the  jump  point
leading  out  towards  Confederation  space  while the  cruisers  positioned
themselves for an easy kill.
     "Either they found  him out before  he got the information, or after he
picked it up; it's one of the two," Vance said quietly.
     "Why are you telling  me this?" Jason asked, suddenly aware that  Vance
was staring at him in a coldly detached way.
     "If  he doesn't have the  data, and we  go up to try  and save him, our
cover is blown and we'll have to get the hell out.  For that matter I wonder
if we can get out now considering the hardware they've brought in here."
     "Are you suggesting that I do nothing and let them blow Paladin and Ian
apart?"
     "The mission comes first, Captain."
     "And suppose he does have the data we need?"
     "I haven't heard it yet, and frankly,  son, his chances of finding them
were slim to none to start with when we sent him on alone."
     Jason looked back at the screen.
     "Green one, Green one, am under attack, where the hell are you?"
     Jason closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts, while. Paladin's
insistent call for help echoed across the deck.

     "Green one, Green one, this is Green two over."
     Paladin, exasperated and  filled with  a  frustrated  rage, punched the
channel off and slammed his fist down on the console.
     To have come so far back and now to be cut off. The next jump point out
of  this system was blocked, and already half a  dozen ships which had  been
pursuing him for days were  coming through behind, a fact made  worse by the
more than fifty patrol craft and three cruisers currently in the sector. The
heavy  cruiser  was already launching its squadron  of  fighters which would
close with him within the hour.
     The game was  up  and Bannockburn was about to get fried. As soon as he
had  jumped, the  pickets  waiting on the far side plastered him  with  high
energy radar bursts and then threw on laserlocks he simply couldn't shake.
     Just  before they hit him he'd try one more burst signal, feeding every
erg  of power he had into it, but the  chance of it reaching Confed space at
this range was remote and made even more implausible by the fact that it was
dicey at best  if someone had a  listening  array focused on this region. If
only he knew where Tarawa was he could transfer the info off  and the they'd
have the power to punch a signal through, plus they would also know where to
aim it for an intercept.
     "Damn  it all to hell, if I get out of this  I quit," Paladin  snarled.
"I'm heading back  to Scotland and I'll be damned  if I ever let my two feet
get off the ground again.
     "Ian, you'd better launch now. I'm glad that the Admiral managed to get
a jump capable Ferret tucked into this ship's cargo bay. I thought  he was a
wee bit crazy  trying that out. I'm  ordering  you to  break off and try and
make  it through  the  jump  point. I'm  loading the  information  into your
fighter's computers  now.  You've got to get that information back to Confed
territory. Tarawa's either gone or bought it."
     Ian looked over at  Paladin.  He knew Paladin  was right. The swarm  of
enemy fighters was closing.
     He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
     Paladin looked up and forced a smile.
     "Lift one for me at the Vacuum Breathers Club, laddie. Now get the hell
out of here."
     Ian turned and headed for the door.
     "Good luck, Paladin."
     Paladin shook his head and laughed.

     Ambassador Vak'ga paused for a moment and looked back at the holo image
on his desk. Again he felt the tug of  pain and  silently cursed himself for
still  feeling  it. After all,  the mourning should have ended  on the first
Sivar after the death of his sons. That was, after all, six years back.  But
no, the pain had never stopped. His seed was gone and when he died, his hrai
would die with him.
     He thought yet again of the agreement he had made with Prince Thrakhath
on the eve  before leaving for Earth. When Thrakhath had first  suggested it
to him his blood had burned with the thought of at last  gaining  vengeance.
But now, it was  so cold,  there was no rage,  no pain, just a detachment, a
coldness,  as if the goddess had already reached into his heart to still its
beating.
     The coded message to commit the act had  arrived this morning, and soon
the  pain would stop. At least I will see my sons again, my sons taken  from
me by the humans.  At least we will again embrace and  go forth on the  hunt
with our ancestors.
     He thought  of  the  detonator  and antimatter explosive  buried in his
chest cavity. Strange, there will be nothing more of me, nothing to be found
to be buried. Fitting perhaps, since there will be no one to mourn me.
     The  Ambassador walked out  of his office,  not even bothering to close
the door.

     * * * * *

     "How are you doing, Geoff? It's damn good to see you again."
     Admiral  Banbridge  came  around from behind his  desk, hand  extended.
Former Rear  Admiral  Geoffrey  Tolwyn  grasped  it,  and  to  his  surprise
Banbridge  grabbed hold of him  in a friendly bear hug. Turning he looked at
Kevin, who stood at attention, and smiled.
     "I heard you're one of the fleet's best," Banbridge said approvingly.
     Geoff smiled broadly  at the compliment to his nephew. The long transit
back to Landreich, and from  there hidden aboard a high speed smuggler craft
to Earth, had given him the opportunity, for the first  time, to really find
out  just  who his nephew truly was. In  the back of his  mind,  in spite of
Kevin's  actions aboard Tarawa, he still perceived him  as a child. That was
now dispensed with, their relationship changing  to the close bond  that can
form between an uncle or father, and his son who is now a man.
     "Kevin,  I  hate  to ask  this,  but would you mind  waiting for us? My
steward will show you a damn nice shower and cook up some food for you."
     Kevin  saluted  and  followed  the  steward into the  rear of the small
apartment Banbridge had down in the basement of Fleet headquarters.
     "He reminds me of you at that age, Geoff," Banbridge said with a smile,
as he led his old student into his office and closed the door.
     "Glad you're back safe. Have a seat and fill me in."
     Geoff settled down into  the proffered chair, his old boss sitting down
across from him.
     "First of all, what the hell was this signal you had me send?"
     As Geoff explained Banbridge's features lit up.
     "Same trick we Americans once used against the Japanese at Midway  with
the fake report of a water distillery breaking down. The Japanese  picked it
up and  reported  to their fleet that Starget X was  short of  water, and by
that  little  trick we knew  the