arisons of  word
groupings,  even  knowing  the  writing  styles  of  certain  operators  and
officials, can help us break the rest.
     "So why go deeper in now?"
     "Because in five or six  days I might have enough of the code broken so
that we can  get some  hard core information.  When  we do, I want to  be in
position  to  scoop those signals from Hari and  also  the signals going out
from Kilrah."
     "That  means getting  some  place between  Kilrah and Hari," Jason said
quietly.
     Vance smiled again and nodded
     "Do you  know what you're asking?  Only one ship's ever gone  to Kilrah
and back and that's  this  baby. I don't know  how  many Confed spy or recon
ships have gotten into the area and back, but I bet it's precious few."
     "Enough to  prove it's possible,"  Tolwyn interjected. "But you are not
going in to Kilrah, you're going to circle the edge of the Empire out to the
far side and head into Hari territory."
     "You didn't say  we,  you said you,"  Jason  replied,  looking  over at
Tolwyn.
     "I'm taking the jump-capable Sabre on this ship back to Landreich in an
hour," Tolwyn said
     "Hell, that's at least a  seven day run, it'll be a nightmare in a ship
that small. It doesn't even have ahead on board."
     "Well, if you don't mind,  I'm taking Kevin along  to  keep me company.
It'll be a chance for us to catch up  on family matters. We'll  just have to
make do and rough it  a bit. One of us can sleep in the tail  gunner's  slot
while the other flies."
     Jason smiled, glad at least for once that Tolwyn was dropping the stiff
upper lip routine and allowing himself to  show some open  attachment to his
nephew.
     "I'm putting you in command of this  fleet Paladin is being sent out in
Bannockburn within the hour, doing forward  recon  and moving ahead of  you.
His orders are to go straight into Hari territory, to track down their burst
signal,  monitor it,  and if  possible close  in for a  visual check  on its
location.
     "I'm ordering you  to go  cautiously, feel your way out around the edge
of the Empire but don't  go  beyond  extreme burst  signal range to  a relay
drone that I'll make sure  is deployed here," and he pointed to a map, which
he quickly pulled up on a screen, showing a position four jump points inside
of  the Empire. "If something should come up, either with you  or back home,
we don't want you out of  touch. I need to go back, some things have come up
I've got to attend to and Vance has a little assignment for me."
     Vance nodded and pointed back to the screen.
     "There's several standard  code words  imbedded in  these  signals that
we've seen before.  They're  just like Kilrathi general fleet communications
during  the war, daily updates  on the various fronts that  fleet commanders
had to be made aware of. I suspect this word СNak'tara' that keeps coming up
refers to a possible target of  interest to those  furballs. We're going  to
try an old trick to see if we can smoke them out. Geoff here has to take the
message back  personally. It's something  I  would  never trust  to  a burst
signal Сcause it could tip off this whole operation. I don't even want it in
writing. It goes out in his head, and he can see to it  along with his other
business."
     Jason looked over  at the screen. This system  was literally  receiving
and  analyzing hundreds of millions of words, millions  of conversations  in
Kilrathi, all its various  dialects,  and  coded talk,  hundreds of hours of
video, and thousands of  holo  images every  day.  It was analyzing it,  and
boiling it down for info, and now because  of a six percent translation of a
half heard signal, he was being asked to jump Tarawa to the  far side of the
Empire. He had wandered  into a shadow world of a quasi war which was beyond
his  ability to really understand. Either they were on to something, or they
were all definitely nuts and he tended to think it was the latter.

     Baron  Jukaga smiled as he  read the report.  It  seemed that  both the
Emperor and his son were to take the Imperial cruiser  out  to  Largkza, the
second moon  of  Kilrah to attend the yearly  ritual  of Pukcal,  the day of
atonement at the famed temple to Sivar located on that planet.
     That the two would  travel together  was  interesting in the extreme, a
rare breach of security in allowing both the  Emperor and the heir to travel
aboard the same ship.
     It was an opportunity he had to take though the thought chilled him. It
was, after all, the greatest sin possible,  one even beyond the imagining of
nearly all of his race, to strike down a liege lord in secret without direct
and  open challenge. It  was  impossible, for  to do  so  was seen  as being
beneath the contempt  of  the  gods,  and beyond  that, would usually  solve
nothing for  without  challenge, one could  not  take the place of the rival
destroyed.
     And yet I would  succeed  to the throne in the end, he realized. And as
for the sin of  it, he thought, I do not believe in the gods, so it does not
matter. Even  as he  thought  that heresy, however, he still felt chilled by
it.  He  found it interesting  that  some humans  could  believe  thus,  and
therefore deny any ultimate  reason for existence,  but for one who knew the
hierarchy of the hrai, the clan,  and  the  Empire  with the godlike Emperor
above all,  it was impossible to contemplate. For was it not evident that in
the  hierarchy of the living there was also a hierarchy in the universe with
the gods above the Emperor so that even in death one would sit with his hrai
in paradise?
     He knew that here again his study  of humans had triggered this line of
thinking which had  taught him just how easy it was to gain power if one was
willing to seize it; for after all did not a prince of ability have to reach
for power for the benefit of his state?
     He would do it, he had to. He looked again at the report. He would have
to find a  means  of placing a small device on the cruiser, no easy task. He
realized now that he was committed, and the thought brought him some comfort
as he spun out his plan.


        CHAPTEъ SEVEN

     "You know, laddie, I think I'm getting a bit too old  for this sort  of
thing."
     Ian  shook  his head and said nothing, waiting  for the jump transit to
hit. Space forward blurred and then  snapped  back  into focus, his  stomach
dropping, flipping over, and nearly  coming  up his  throat. Ian scanned the
nav screen, waiting for  the locks to set in on the various stars to confirm
that they had jumped into the system they wanted. Anomalies  in  jumps  were
not  uncommon  even  in the  heavily traveled lanes  in  the  heart  of  the
Confederation. In the barely charted jump points beyond the outer  border of
the Kilrathi Empire it vas almost a guess at times where the next jump would
lead
     Paladin  leaned  over  Ian's shoulder to watch, the seconds ticking by,
finally a confirm light  flashed  on  the screen and both breathed a sigh of
relief.
     "At least  according to what our  charts tell  us, we're  in  the right
place," Paladin said. "It's a  bit hard to  tell though. Hell, laddie, we're
going  down one  narrow  little road here, we  might have passed hundreds of
other jump points in between and not even known it. The last time I did this
I had to feel my way blind through it all.
     "I can tell you this, though, I think  we've definitely gone a good bit
into Hari territory, and Kilrah is somewhere off  there," and he  waved  his
hand vaguely off towards the port side of his ship,  "roughly three  hundred
odd light  years  away. Where  we're heading towards, that signal is sort of
this way," and he vaguely waved his hand straight ahead, a gesture which Ian
found to be strange and somewhat amusing.
     "In  the  olden days they  used to draw places on the map and say, here
be'eth dragons," and Paladin chuckled.
     "It's a long way back home," Ian said quietly.
     "Aye," Paladin  said quietly turning  in  his swivel chair  to scan his
surveillance instruments.
     "Oh, we've got a little company way out here," he announced and pointed
to  the screen. "Ionization wake  coming  through here, heading straight for
what I think's the next jump point."
     "How old?"
     "Not very, hard to tell, sir, maybe ten hours."
     "Could he have spotted us on the other side and jumped out?"
     Paladin sat quietly for a minute thinking that question over yet again.
One of the problems with this cat Stealth machinery was the simple fact they
were  not even sure if it was really working  right  anymore. At least  when
Tarawa was alongside they could get a very quick and easy read.  They hadn't
seen Tarawa in ten  days; it  was now  a good eight jump points behind them,
holding itself  at  extreme  burst signal  range back  to  the  edge  of the
frontier in case it had to get an emergency signal out.
     He had figured out by now that the Stealth gear was to be used for only
short  periods  of  time,  and  the  drain  it  made  on ship's  energy  was
tremendous. So they had finally agreed to use it only at the moment of jump,
and then when the coast was clear to come out of it and recharge their power
by running  with full  scoops  open. There was the other simple  question as
well. The Stealth might work against Confederation ships, but no one had yet
to figure out if the Cats had a simple way of detecting it themselves.
     "Hard to tell, he could even be hiding somewhere in this blasted system
and we don't have time to check it all."
     Ian looked over at  the chart which  showed  a  dozen planets in  orbit
around the  red  giant  star  of  this sector. Information beyond  that  was
nonexistent,  nothing on any of the planets, resources,  whether  they  were
even inhabited or not Paladin pursed his lips for a moment and then sighed.
     "Well,  laddie,  let's power her  up, get our tanks  full,  then  close
scoops and  run  to the  next jump somewhat straight ahead. It'll  take some
time, we'll have to sniff it down."
     Ian nodded,  taking the helm, turning  Bannockburn and  headed  towards
where they hoped the  next  jump  point  was located.  It was tedious  work,
jumping through, snooping on passive listening, and then hunting up the next
jump point and moving forward again.
     The engines of Bannockburn powered up and hours later it was far across
the system, zeroing in on  the next jump point.  Long  after  their passage,
what appeared to be  nothing more than a small boulder, floating through the
darkness a million  kilometers from the  jump point, shed  its exterior. The
Kilrathi light picket  ship turned and accelerated away towards another jump
point.

     "I think he is planning to assassinate me," the Emperor said
     Prince  Thrakhath was surprised by just how casual his grandfather was,
as if discussing plans for yet another boring court ritual.
     His  choice  of  the word assassinate was  interesting  as well. 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.
     "ъemember, 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.