urst 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.


        CHAPTEъ 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 ъear  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 Сtarget X was  short of  water, and by
that  little  trick we knew  their next target was Midway. Vance always  did
know his history."
     "Have we had  any word yet from out there? Since I  left Landreich I've
been out of touch."
     Admiral Banbridge shook his head and Geoff silently cursed.
     "What's been happening back here on Earth?"
     Banbridge blew out noisily  and reached around to his desk, pulling out
two  glasses and  a small decanter of  port  wine,  pouring out a drink  for
himself and Tolwyn.
     "The  damn fools  are  eating up the  crap that Vak'ga  and Jukaga keep
feeding them. Hell, ъodham has even  agreed to a cultural  exchange, with  a
bunch of Kilrathi singer's and dancers coming to Earth next month.  The damn
brie and wine crowd at the capital are  eating it up, begging for tickets to
the  performance. The Chief of Staff raised holy hell about it, pointing out
that we'd have over a hundred Kilrathi  running  around the capital and damn
near  everyone of  them  an intelligence  operative. He was  hooted  down by
Jamison and told to, Сrelax, the war is over.'
     "It's nuts, I  tell  you.  Anyone who talks  about preparedness,  about
keeping the fleet appropriations up, is denounced as a war monger."
     "And just how is the fleet?" Tolwyn asked.
     "Four fleet carriers are still on line.
     "Just four?"
     "It's  worse. Two of them are drydocked at the  moment but it's claimed
they can be brought back up to operational status within thirty days.
     "What about the others?"
     "In drydock, reactors pulled, crews on extended leave."
     "What the hell for?"
     Banbridge sighed.
     "Jamison convinced the President, and  he convinced the Senate, that if
the Kilrathi were going to  make  a move we'd have plenty of warning and she
pointed out that  all but six  of the Kilrathi  carriers  had been put  into
inactive reserve as well. So  as  a  cost cutting measure the carriers  were
pulled in for major refitting and overhaul. Getting them on line  could take
up to three months."
     "God help us," Tolwyn  whispered, draining his glass and then accepting
a refill.
     "Forty-eight percent of the rest of the ships of the fleet are still on
line,  the  rest  are skeleton crewed in reserve. Operationally we're losing
our edge. Flight training time for the fighters has been cut by nearly half,
even  our  main  battle  fleet  ships  still  in  active  service, our heavy
cruisers,  are tied  off with crews on leave. It'd take weeks, maybe a month
to  two months to even get one full Task Force Group  organized and back  on
line.
     "What's worse is the freeze on construction.  We should have  had a new
fleet  carrier  and four more  cruisers operational by now and  a number  of
other  ships started. We tried to  get through a government decree requiring
all shipyard  works to stay on their jobs;  that caused a hell  of an uproar
and some of our best  technicians are quitting to look  for work else where.
Key war  industries, which during hostilities  were forbidden to strike, are
now  having walkouts with  people wanting  higher wages, made  worse by what
looks like an economic depression due to a freeze on new defense contracts.
     "Morale is down in the gutter. The career people are sore as hell. They
wanted this thing seen through  to  the finish. Most of our old line  people
know that this war won't really  be over till we storm through the rubble of
the  imperial  palace  and raise the Confederation  flag. Anything else is a
prelude to defeat.  The  reservists and draftees  on the other hand are  all
clamoring to get discharged. Hell, senators are getting flooded with letters
from parents, wives,  and even  our own troops demanding demobilization, the
old Сbring the boys and girls back home.' "
     "I guess it's kind of hard to blame  them when you think of it. To them
it really does look like it's over."
     Banbridge nodded.
     "I  tell  you, Geoff, I think a democratic republic is the only way  to
run the  show; you English are  the  ones who really invented it and then we
Americans picked it  up.  But there's always been one flaw in it and that is
the sustaining of a long-term war. It's hard at times for civilians to truly
understand the military; we  have a thousand year  tradition of always being
at odds with the civilians we're sworn to defend. The military at times gets
turned  into  the Greek messenger  who gets blamed for simply telling people
the truth of how the universe works. People get too  caught up in  the  wish
for peace and  forget  that  the  law of the jungle is still the law in most
parts of  this universe, and  they  don't like it when  we  try to tell them
differently.
     "Got any suggestions on how to change it?"
     Banbridge smiled and shook his head.
     "It's  what I've  spent  forty-three years in  the  service fighting to
defend. No, it's got its problems but I'd keep it.
     "That's  if it survives one year longer. Don't people realize what  the
Cats are up to?"
     "Oh, a hell  of a  lot of  ordinary people do,  especially in the outer
planets  and  the  frontier.  They've  lived on  the  real edge  of the war,
sometimes  in the  middle of  it. They know what even  a  momentary  slip of
vigilance can  do. But the inner  system  of planets, and  especially Earth,
have been bearing the financial burden  of a war  that's been fought several
hundred light years and a  dozen or  more jump points away,  I think they're
willing to  grab  at anything  if it'll mean  peace.  We've  got  an  entire
generation  that's been born and come to  adulthood knowing nothing  but war
played out  nightly on the holo screen, and the ruinous taxes to support it;
to them peace is a dream as powerful as any narcotic."
     "And it just might kill them."
     Banbridge sighed
     "The damn  media  is  part of  the  problem. The  Kilrathi have  done a
masterful  job of feeding them selected footage of furball planets bombarded
in  the war,  tearful interviews with  widows who ask for  peace, the  usual
propaganda crap. But try and send our own  crews in to film  freely  and the
curtain gets slammed down. It seems to be really popular of late, especially
on  the college campuses, to buy Jukaga's line that the war was a conspiracy
of  their military  and ours  to make  themselves powerful and  big industry
rich. The majority of people see  through  it, but  there's enough out there
buying what ever they see on the holo to make things a bit hot.
     "But enough on that, fill me in on what's  happened with  you  over the
last two months."
     As  Geoff described his  arrangement of ship transfers to the Landreich
and the mission into Kilrathi  space  with the  D-5  team Banbridge remained
silent, sipping on his port and refilling Geoff's glass when it went dry.
     "When I got back to Landreich,  that's when things started to get dicey
with Kruger."
     "How so?"
     "He's  absolutely  furious  with the Confed  and the  blockage  of  the
fighter shipment.  At least they were getting a  trickle during the war, but
the  peace  commission has shut  off  any  further  shipments of war-related
suppl