“Giver of Life,” Esshk said quietly, “with respect, and my most fervent worshipfulness, my life is, of course, yours to do with as you please, but I beg you to hear us. The Invincible Swarm was destroyed not only because we underestimated our foe-true enough-but because we were culturally unable to recognize the fact that the simple Tree Prey we met so long ago might have progressed into Worthy Prey. They have become other hunters who, in their fashion, have matched our capacity for the hunt. They had assistance, others like him”-he gestured at Kurokawa-“who taught them new miracles of war, but they adapted to those miracles more readily than we and used them more effectively. If we do not adapt as well, they will sweep us from the world.”
“Prey?”
“ Worthy Prey, Celestial Mother. And like other Worthy Prey, they have become hunters as well. Given time, they will pursue us.”
“Then we must mount another Swarm, greater than the one you wasted, and destroy them forever! Surely they suffered greatly as well. Now is the time to exterminate them!”
“I would agree… but where will we get the Uul, the warriors, for such a Swarm? Our frontiers are vast, and are we not now in contact with other Worthy Prey in the south? And in the west as well? I have heard rumors…”
The Celestial Mother waved a hand. “It is true. We always meet new prey as we expand, and sometimes the great storms deliver others unto us… like your pet, perhaps? This new “Worthy Prey” in the south and west is weak in numbers, and infests a small, chill, and undesirable land. We are in no rush to hunt them, and they are no threat to us. We will manage. We always have.”
“I propose that this time, you won’t,” Kurokawa interjected. He recognized the quaver in his voice and hoped the others didn’t. “Not without us,” he added more firmly.
“And what makes you so indispensable?” The Celestial Mother’s tone was suddenly low, threatening.
Kurokawa forged ahead, counting his points on his fingers. “First, you could probably destroy the Tree Folk-prey-as you said, with one more major campaign, but the losses would be staggering. Where will you get the troops… the Uul warriors? Second, they know your weakness now.” Even Esshk bristled at “weakness,” but Kurokawa continued. “No doubt they have seen and understand your inability to defend. As soon as they are able, they will attack. They must. Most likely, they will do so before you can adequately reinforce your forward outposts, like Aryaal.” He paused and took a deep, tense breath. “Without proper defensive tactics and preparations, those outposts cannot hold. To avoid even further pointless loss of… Uul”-he pronounced it “Ool”-“I most respectfully recommend that you evacuate them. The strategy of trading land for time is no disgrace if part of that strategy is to eventually recover what has been lost. Third, if we gain that time, we can use it to prepare. While the enemy-the prey-flounders along impotently behind us, extending their lines of supply while ours contract, we can build the cannon-armed armored ships I have proposed. We can make the flying machines, the artillery, and train your… our troops, our Uul, in tactics that will succeed.” Kurokawa shrugged imperceptibly, going for broke. “And yes, those tactics must be defensive at first.” He held up a fourth finger. “Finally, when we have built these weapons, trained… our troops, swelled their ranks with an entirely fresh generation that has not known defeat, we wait until the prey is overextended and has stretched his lines of supply to the breaking point…”
“Then attack?” asked the Celestial Mother, suddenly thoughtful.
“Then attack,” confirmed Kurokawa. “The enemy does not breed or reach maturity as quickly as you. Break their Army and Navy and they will have no defense. You can then roll them up with ease and conquer every land from here to the Eastern Sea.”
The Celestial Mother scratched her jowls. “Interesting,” she hissed thoughtfully.
Esshk was staring at Kurokawa. They’d discussed all this before, but it was supposed to be he who presented their argument to the Giver of Life. “Indeed,” he said, equally thoughtful.
Alan Letts stood from his place at the long table in the now almost fully restored Great Hall. The formal reception was intended to commemorate that, as well as the other grand undertakings that would soon commence. In spite of a general mood of joviality and goodwill, there was also a bittersweet understanding that they stood, once again, at a crossroads. The tightly knit members of the Grand Alliance that had hurled back the Grik would scatter again. Some would resume operations against the enemy at long last, while others like Shinya and Saan-Kakja would depart for the Fil-pin Lands, to oversee the development of an even greater arsenal of freedom than Baalkpan could ever be. Laumer’s little squadron would accompany Saan-Kakja on his way to perform the perhaps impossible task Matt had set him. Regardless of their missions, the possibility always existed that they would never all be gathered like this again. They’d lost too many friends in this terrible war to take such things for granted. Letts tapped his mug with a knife to gain everyone’s attention, and raised it high.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I propose a toast?”
Matt smiled as he released Sandra’s hand under the table and stood with everyone else. He was proud of Letts. Like all of them, he’d come a long way. He’d earned his post as chief of staff and had developed the confidence that went with it. The main reason for that rose to stand beside him. Nurse Lieutenant Karen Theimer Letts, now Sandra’s medical chief of staff, had once been rendered almost catatonic by their situation. Her recovery had inspired Letts to apply himself, and they made a good team. Karen’s pregnancy was also beginning to show, and that had gained her an almost reverent consideration by the same rough men who might once have resented the depletion of the “dame” supply in the middle of the famine her marriage to Letts had made even more extreme.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Letts repeated, “I give you Saan-Kakja, U-Amaki ay Maa-ni-la!”
The diminutive High Chief of Manila and patriarch of all the Filpin Lands regarded those at the table and the rest of the assembly in the hall. She was even more striking than usual with her fiery, golden eyes and polished, chased-golden breastplate. Her yellow and black clan colors decorated her cape and kilt, and a short, ornately hilted dirk hung from an elaborate belt in a golden sheath. The martial ensemble clashed with her tiny stature and evident youth.
“They’re all so young,” Sandra whispered in Matt’s ear, and he squeezed her hand. It was true. He reflected that the veterans of every war probably thought much the same of all the recruits who joined them in battle-even while they themselves seemed young to the veterans of earlier wars. Rarely were the leaders quite so young, however. It suddenly struck him that most of the positions of high authority in the Alliance were held by young, comparatively inexperienced… amateurs. Saan-Kakja was by any definition, human or Lemurian, little more than a child. The strikingly competent and just as exotic Safir Maraan wasn’t much older. Neither was Chack, who’d probably command a Marine battalion before long. Tassana-Ay-Arracca, whose father had perished with Nerracca, had risen to High Chief of Aracca Home after her grandfather fell in battle. The commander of the growing Sularan Brigade couldn’t be much over twenty. General Muln-Rolak was practically ancient, but he wasn’t technically a head of state-although Matt suspected that would change when they retook Aryaal. That meant, as representatives of the Alliance, Keje and Adar were the “geezers,” since they were in their early forties.
On the human side, Matt knew how young everyone was. The Bosun was around sixty and was the oldest human in the Alliance, but at the august age of thirty-two, Matt was the oldest officer, just after Spanky. If the newly minted Ensign Reynolds was eighteen yet, he’d eat his hat. Of all the Allied commanders, Matt had the most combat experience by far-all of about fifteen months-and here he was, Supreme Commander of all Allied forces. Again, he wondered what Tommy Hart would have thought of that.