econds he  had  seen three  colonial
pilots go kamikaze.
     The enemy cruiser started to rupture along its bow, internal explosions
detonating off from the blow. Half a dozen fighters swung  in  front of  the
cruiser, matching speed so as to hover, and ignoring the defensive fire they
poured  mass driver  rounds into the  ruptured  hull. The cruiser started to
disintegrate,  mass driver rounds  punching  clean through the  hull and the
ship detonated, taking another colonial fighter with it.
     The explosion from Normandy  was still spreading out and Jason realized
he had just under twenty strike craft out  there, some of them still engaged
in eliminating  the rest of the fighters, others  moving  forward to provide
cover for Bannockburn, or pursuing the light corvettes and patrol craft.
     Jason left the bridge and headed down  the corridor to the fighter bay,
stopping before the ever  present guards and waiting impatiently  until they
brought Vance out.
     "I want  your  gear  torn  up  and  moved out  of  the  way for fighter
recovery," Jason said.
     "What?"
     "You heard me,  Admiral.  I've got twenty fighters out  there, some  of
them undoubtably hurt and I plan to recover them."
     "Jason,  it'll  take days to  disassemble  the D-5. Most of  it is hard
wired into the floor."
     "I'm sorry,  sir, I don't  have  days, for some of those ships  I might
only have minutes. D-5 has to be moved."
     Vance started to bristle.
     "Son, there's billions of  dollars' worth of equipment in there. Enough
money to buy  a couple of  hundred fighters.  Tell your pilots to eject  and
we'll pick them up."
     "I'm sorry, sir,  that's  not  the way it's  going  to  be.  Those  are
colonial fighters and  I'm  not  going  to  go back and  tell Kruger that we
ditched them to save a surveillance computer which has already done its job.
Beyond that, if we don't have those fighters  for the run back home, I don't
think we'll  make it.  We've put  a  real burr in  the ear  of the Cats  and
they'll want our hides as vengeance. This is going to be a running fight all
the way home."
     "Listen, son, I hate to pull  rank, but I  think you  should know I'm a
full admiral in the fleet."
     "I know that, sir, but I am captain of this ship."
     Vance looked at  him appraisingly  and after a  brief span  of seconds,
which to Jason seemed like an eternity,  a thin smile creased  Admiral Vance
ъichards' face.
     "Aye aye, sir. I'll have a landing area cleared."
     Jason inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
     "Thank you, sir," and he headed back to the bridge.
     "Message for you, sir."
     Jason nodded and went over  to the communications  officer and saw that
Paladin had established a laser link.
     "Thanks, laddie."
     Jason sensed that something wasn't right.
     "Are you all right?"
     Paladin nodded and then lowered his head for a second.
     "Jason. Ian's gone."
     Jason felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. He stood silent
     "I told  the lad to run for it, he stayed  to  get me out instead. They
burned him with a missile spread meant for me."
     "Damn it all to hell," Jason whispered.
     "Aye, lad, damn all of it," Paladin sighed.
     There was a moment of silence and then Paladin finally stirred.
     "By the way, did you get the message out?"
     "On its way."
     "I think the old  proverbial  manure is about to hit  the fan when that
arrives."
     "It's only  just started,"  Jason replied  coldly, remembering the holo
display of  the new Kilrathi  carriers. He  realized that  chances were they
might  already  be heading to Earth. The armistice  was a fraud as he always
knew it was, and  by falling for it, the Confederation  might very well have
lost the war. But for the moment it was hard to think  of  that. He had just
lost one of his closest friends and that was all that he could grasp.

     "Sire, there has been an accident."
     Jukaga  looked  up  from  his  desk  at  the  aide who was  bowed  low,
trembling.
     "Go on."
     "Sire, we've just  received a burst signal  that the Emperor's personal
cruiser suffered a reactor detonation, and that all aboard are lost."
     "Oh, really, how tragic."
     The aide looked up at him, confused by his tone.
     "You are dismissed," and he turned away, barely able to hide a flashing
of  teeth in satisfaction. So it had  worked as  planned.  Getting a reactor
fuel tube aboard, with the tiniest of pinholes  drilled into  it, had been a
chore. The fuel rod had been a trick thought up years ago, the idea being to
have  smuggler  craft carry  it into the frontier region and  sell them off,
with the hope that the rods would eventually wind up on Confederation ships.
The rod would then rupture in the white hot heat of the pulse engine reactor
and cause a chain reaction detonation. The idea never worked, but  he always
remembered where  they were stockpiled while everyone else  forgot.  It  had
taken  a little  maneuvering  of computer shipping files to  get it into the
right place, knowing that the Emperor's ship  never  left Kilrah without  an
entirely new load of rods on board.
     He smiled. Yes, that had been masterful, and it helped when one of your
own deep agents worked on ship maintenance. Fortunately, the poor fool never
even really knew what he was doing, which made the plan leak-proof.
     A  moment later there  was  a  flurry  of  angry roars  in the corridor
outside. As he stood up the door slammed open.
     Prince Thrakhath strode into the room.
     Baron Jukaga knew that in spite of all his effort  at  self-control his
mane was bristling with fear. He struggled to bring it under control.
     "Surprised to see me?" Thrakhath growled.
     Jukaga stood, speechless and then finally recovered.
     "I just heard of the tragedy, the Emperor?"
     Better than you had hoped for," Thrakhath snarled.
     "Whatever  do you mean, my Prince?" Jukaga  replied, angry with himself
that there was the slightest of tremors in his voice.
     "That is for you to figure out," Thrakhath stated coldly.
     "I don t understand what you are moving towards.
     Thrakhath  stood  silent,  eyeing  him  coldly. He could  see the Baron
regain  his self control. What  was  enraging was the  simple fact  that the
Emperor, through intuition  or information had suspected that his ship would
be destroyed, but as to how it would be done they had never figured out, and
still did not know and most likely never would. His only real  hope had been
to  so  startle  the  Baron  as  to  make  him  say  something  foolish  and
incriminating  and that, Thrakhath could  already see,  had failed.  It  was
obvious  now that the Baron will claim that he was being blamed unjustly. If
directly accused, the other clans might very well rally to his side  as they
had once before after Vukar.
     Thrakhath snarled angrily, seeing that his bluff had failed.
     Thrakhath, still glaring at Jukaga, waited for him to speak.
     "What  are these  two reports I  just  received," Jukaga finally  said,
motioning to his comm screen. "regarding a bombing on Earth and that the spy
ship was located too late before it sent a burst signal out?"
     "It means that we have to move for war now."
     "That is madness," Jukaga snapped,  regaining his full composure.  "The
plan called for another four and a half eight-of-eights of days."
     "Impossible now,"  Thrakhath replied. "Many of  the humans are  already
blaming us for the bombing, and with the  information regarding our fleet it
means a renewal of war."
     Thrakhath smiled.
     "And an end to your weak scheming."
     "What is the truth about this bombing?" Jukaga asked coldly.
     "Oh, undoubtedly one of their own did it and then will blame it  on us.
Perhaps the attempt on the Emperor can be linked to it."
     Jukaga hesitated.
     "They would never do that, kill  their  own military leaders like that.
There's more to it than that."
     "Are you accusing me?" Thrakhath snapped.
     Jukaga looked at him coldly but knew it was best to back off.
     "And  how did this signal get out? We suspected the carrier was in that
system and we  knew that  their scout ship was running back towards  it. How
could  this  have  happened? There should have  been  a carrier  and  a full
cruiser squadron there."
     "And are you  accusing me of a fault in that  as well?" Thrakhath asked
quietly.
     "You  don't understand at all, do you?" Jukaga finally replied.  "If we
had  but waited  the year,  they  would have fallen into our hands, weak and
divided. Now, they will feel nothing but rage  at a betrayal of their trust,
they will fight with a fanaticism you have never seen.
     "ъemember I warned  your father and uncle  of this back  when  the  war
started and they so foolishly decided to open with a surprise attack."
     "Then it is your job to disarm them of this fanaticism, and if you fail
and they do not submit . . ."
     "Then what?" Jukaga snarled
     "I will annihilate  their worlds and no one will be left alive, no one,
and you will be responsible."


        CHAPTEъ NINE


     "Show that transmission from Tarawa on the main holo."
     "Big Duke" Grecko, the Marine general of the Joint  Chiefs and the only
survivor of the explosion, settled back painfully in his chair. Geoff Tolwyn
looked over at him anxiously. The bleeding  from the lacerations to his back
and neck had soaked through the bandages and his shirt, staining the khaki a
dark red. Geoff wanted to say something but knew it was useless.  Grecko was
a Marine, and would bite the head off of anyone who tried to show sympathy.
     The wonder of it was that Grecko had survived at all. He had walked out
of  the meeting with  the  ambassador in disgust,  threatening to resign his
commission, and was down the far end of the corridor when the bomb went off.
The explosion  had  ripped  Grecko's  left arm off.  Fortunately  it  was an
artificial arm which had replaced the one lost at Vukar and the plasti  limb
absorbed the  blow from a  shattered support pillar  which would have killed
anyone else.
     Grecko started  to move his shoulder, as if the lost limb was  still in
place, swore vehemently and then clumsily used his right hand to scratch his
neck.
     "I'd leave that  alone, sir,  there's still some  shrapnel in  you," an
attentive medic standing behind Grecko said.
     "I  didn't ask  for your advice,  son, and besides  I don't think  your
security clearance allows you to be in here, so get the hell out."
     "I've got my orders  to stay  with you,  sir, until you  report to  the
hospital."
     Grecko looked to the Marine guard standing at the door.
     "Sergeant, either  escort  this pest out of  here or shoot him, I don't
care which."
     Geoff smiled sympathetically at the  medic, who  looked flustered as he
left the room, mumbling that all Marines were nuts.
     "Nothing  a  good shot of  whiskey  and a couple  of minutes  with  the
tweezers can't cure," Grecko snapped, still scratching his neck.
     The holo screen in  the middle of the room activated and Grecko studied
it intently for a long silent minute.
     He picked up a secured phone and punched in a number.
     "Mr.  President, this is Grecko, are  you still in  the  building, sir?
Good, I think you need to come to my office at once," and hung up.
     He looked back at Geoff.
     "We re really in the barrel this time,  Geoff. Are  you  sure that this
stuff Vance just sent is the real goods?"
     "I wasn't there when  he got the data,"  Tolwyn replied, "but you  know
Vance even better than I do,  sir. He wouldn't have  sent  it  if it  wasn't
genuine." Grecko nodded grimly.
     "We've got  five  admirals  and  seven  generals  dead  in  the  morgue
downstairs,  a hundred and thirty one  other  key personnel  gone as well, a
military half dismantled and now this," and he viciously pointed at the holo
as if it were something he could vent his rage on.
     Grecko shook  his head  wearily and Tolwyn  could see that the man  was
struggling to control the  pain, both physical  and emotional. Geoff felt it
as well. He had just lost his old mentor and one  of his closest friends and
many other comrades whom he had served with through the years.
     "How does this all fit together?" Grecko asked.
     "The armistice, I think we had that figured from the beginning," Tolwyn
replied.  "Now  we  know  it was  to buy  time so they could reorganize  and
concentrate  on finishing their  super carriers. They  know that we now know
and I guess that's  where this  bomb plot figured in, to decapitate our high
command, sow confusion and then strike hard straight at Earth."
     "How long before that fleet could get here?"
     "If they were fully ready  to  move, flank  speed could put them across
the Empire in twelve, fourteen days. From the frontier to Earth, another ten
days. Even if we  had full resistance up, I  think  those carriers could cut
through  inside  of two  and a  half weeks  from  the  time they  cross  the
demilitarized zone. ъemember, just before the armistice we wargamed that one
out,  the assumption of a surprise attack  with our  own defenses down. With
these new carriers, it doesn't look good at all, sir."
     Grecko exhaled noisily.
     "According to what  Banbridge briefed me on just this  morning, it'd be
at least four months  to  bring  the  fleet  back up  to full  pre-armistice
strength.
     "Damn all to hell," he snapped.
     The  door to  the  small conference  room  opened  and President ъodham
stepped in, followed by Foreign Secretary Jamison.
     Grecko stood  up  as did  Tolwyn. Geoff still found the  nickname  "Big
Duke" amusing  since Grecko barely stood over five two. His  pugnaciousness,
however, more than made  up  for his  shortness and more than one Marine  or
fleeter had found himself on his back after making a comment.
     "How  are  you doing,  Duke?"  ъodham  asked,  looking  at  the  Marine
general's torn and empty sleeve in surprise.
     "Nothing like getting shot in a plastic arm. Didn't hurt a bit."
     ъodham nodded and then shifted his gaze to Tolwyn.
     "What in hell are you doing here?" and his features went cold.
     "He was  here today as a  personal guest of  Admiral Banbridge when the
explosion happened," Duke replied.
     "You  have no security clearance," Jamison shouted.  "Grecko, get  this
man the hell out of here right now! I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out
that he had something to do with this bombing."
     "No, sir, he isn't moving."
     Jamison turned on Grecko in surprise.
     "ъear Admiral Tolwyn," and Geoff  was  surprised to hear Grecko use his
official and former title, "was acting under the direct  orders of the Chief
of  Staff  when he  violated the  cease fire order, with the intent  of thus
having a cover to subsequently engage in a covert operation."
     "If that bastard were alive right now, I'd see that he was  stripped of
his rank," Jamison snarled.
     Grecko stiffened.
     "That bastard, as you call him, ma am, was my closest friend. I'd  like
to suggest, ma'am, that you  go down to the  morgue and  tell what's left of
him that he's a bastard."
     "General, would you  explain  Tolwyn's  presence  here?"  ъodham asked,
stepping between the two as Jamison leaned forward, ready to explode.
     "The Chief of Staff suspected the armistice from the beginning, sir and
asked  Geoff to  volunteer  for  a  covert  mission.  If  the  mission  were
undertaken by someone already dishonorably discharged it would give us," and
he looked coldly at the President, "plausible  deniability if something went
wrong. Geoff organized the transfer of some of our demobilized assets to the
Landreich where the equipment could be kept on line and then went out  on  a
deep  reconnaissance  mission inside the  Kilrathi Empire. He  returned from
that mission and arrived here only minutes before the bomb went off.
     "We've  just received an official  protest over that escapade," Jamison
snapped  "The Kilrathi are screaming their  heads  off claiming that five of
their cruisers were hit in an unprovoked attack and destroyed."
     "What about Tarawa and Normandy?" Tolwyn asked anxiously.
     "They claim they got one."
     "Not a bad  exchange," Grecko said dryly. The  Kilrathi must be  damned
embarrassed, but Tarawa only reported three confirmed kills  for the loss of
Normandy and I'll take their word over the furballs'."
     "They're claiming the right, as  provided in the armistice, to hunt the
other  one  down  and  have  requested  information  regarding  the   ship's
location."
     Jamison looked over at ъodham who nodded sadly.
     "The Kilrathi have  demanded information  regarding the ship's location
and  destination. If we refuse to provide that immediately,  a condition  of
war might be declared."
     "Tell them to go burn in hell," Grecko said.
     "And besides," Tolwyn said  quietly, a  smile  creasing  his  features,
"those ships are not of Confederation registry."
     "Look, General, the armistice is hanging by  a thread," ъodham replied,
ignoring Tolwyn.  "First  the  violation  of their  territory and then  this
terrorist bomb plot to kill  the ambassador  and  make it look like the Cats
did it by killing some of our people as well."
     "Are  you trying  to  tell  us that some  of  our own  people  did this
bombing?" Tolwyn asked,  incredulous  that such  a suggestion could even  be
made.
     "Well, its one  serious possibility," ъodham replied, "and  we have  to
look at all angles."
     Tolwyn was about to  come back with a  rather  angry  and  very obscene
retort, but Grecko held his hand up for him to be silent
     "Sir, I would appreciate it if you took a look at this holo display and
the data printouts. We  just received it as a burst signal  relayed  in from
Tarawa  less than  a  half  hour ago. Their mission  was  to  follow  up our
suspicions regarding Kilrathi  construction  inside  the  Hari  sector," and
Grecko pointed to the three  dimensional projection, in  the middle of which
floated the images of the Kilrathi super carriers.
     ъodham went  over  and looked intently at the carriers, requesting that
the  computer  rotate the images  and  then provide data  on  mass,  length,
armaments, and projected fighter carrying capacity.
     Tolwyn watched the President closely and could  detect a paling  of his
features and more surprisingly a  nervous tic  at  the corner of his eye. It
was  obviously  a  hell  of  a shock for the  President, but he  had  little
sympathy  for him at this moment, still remembering how  not so long ago the
head  of the Chiefs of Staff, with tears of frustration in his eyes,  begged
for the armistice not to be signed, warning of what would be the end result.
Noragami was now dead as a result.
     "Is this genuine?"  ъodham asked  quietly,  now examining the map which
showed where the fleet was and projected times of arrival into Confederation
territory if an offensive were launched.
     "The  data was  burst signaled from Tarawa,  located  here," and Grecko
pointed  at the map showing  the last reported position of the carrier. "The
data was obtained from a deep reconnaissance probe  which ventured into Hari
space."
     "On whose  orders?"  Jamison  asked.  I  was  never  informed  of  this
escapade. ъemember, I am  the Foreign Minister and if you were contemplating
a violation of the armistice I should have been informed."
     On the orders of  the Chief of  Staff," Grecko  said  coldly, not  even
bothering to turn.
     "Is