“We don’t need to now,” Prince Thrakhath continued quietly. “We just received a surveillance report.”
“Confederation marines abandoned the planet this morning. They have left it a wrecked hulk, destroying everything before departure.”
“I told you from the beginning that it was a senseless campaign, launched to retrieve a ruined palace that a beggar would have turned his nose up at even before it was destroyed.”
“How dare you speak such of the Emperor’s mother?”
“I dare because someone must,” the Baron snapped, and Thrakhath was shocked by his anger. For the first time in his life he had heard the normally effete Baron raise his voice in anger.
“Your grandfather, my step-uncle, has led us into a disastrous war. You are too young to even remember that before this war started I warned that we should first seek an accommodation with these humans. Send our ambassadors in, establish our spies, lull their people with promises of our heartfelt desire for peace and disarmament, and then strike. One can always find fools who will listen to such drivel and do half your work for you—establishing friendship committees and lulling them with soft words. Easier to kill a fleet through lack of money because it must be spent on peaceful activities, than to have to destroy it in battle. You and your grandfather have never learned the inner truth that peace and war can be one and the same, the pursuing of a policy that in the end, no matter what the means, can lead to ultimate victory. All you ever see is the path of the sword.”
“That is now ancient history and the talk of cowards. The fact that you, a Kilrathi of the royal blood, could even think in such a way is beyond my comprehension.”
“Ah yes, our Kilrathi pride. We have never lost a war, we do not talk, we take what is ours, our rightful destiny to rule the stars. But now we have met a match to our pride. These humans are worthy of our study, and not our mindless disdain. It is only through knowing them that we will eventually defeat them.”
“Do you now whine for peace?”
“Far from it. It is a war to the death, either them or us. But war must be waged with cunning and clear thought, which your grandfather lacks.”
“I will not listen to this treason.”
“Dare call it treason, cousin? Not if it prosper! I call it clear thinking. We believed them to be nothing but a warrior made of paper, one push and they would tear apart and float away on the winds of our storm. Well, they have endured over thirty years of war and within the last ten days have destroyed five of our fleet carriers and six which were nearing completion, a reserve which I remember you promising would be the strength that would bring this war to a conclusion before the year was out.”
The Baron walked over to a side table and poured himself a drink. He looked over quizzically at Thrakhath.
“No, I will have none.”
The Baron hesitated.
“It is not poison, my blood oath upon that.”
The Baron nodded and emptied the goblet.
“Cousin, I know you not to be a fool. I know as well your ambition to be emperor. But I warn you, do not discount the cunning, the intellect, the warrior spirit of these humans. Too many empires in the past were destroyed by enemies whom they laughed at.”
“Is that all, Baron?”
He nodded.
“I do not go lightly into this exile. The truth of the real blame of Vukar and the fiasco at Kilrah will come out. This little exile buys me the time to indulge my readings of the ancient classics and the translations of human works which far too many of our people view with disdain. I’ll have that, at least, along with my study of art and music. And I assure you, I will be back. I do not hate you, cousin, but I also think that you are no longer fit to be our Emperor if you allow that old shriveled up corpse to sit on the throne that either you must seize, or I will take. For if one or the other of us does not take it, someone outside the family will.”
“Get off my ship and I hope you rot in your exile.”
The Baron smiled.
“The feeling is mutual, cousin. If you wish, though, I would be happy to lend you the scribe of my clan. He is most proficient in writing up rubbish that tells of stirring victories, his lies so convincing that no one ever discovers the truth. For that is how I see what we are doing. We live in a fantasy, and until that changes, until we study these humans and learn to think as they do, this war will drag on and on.”
With a mocking salute the Baron left the room.
Prince Thrakhath stood up and went over to pour himself a drink as well, first activating the poison scanner built into his signet ring to check if his cousin might have slipped something into the decanter. It was clean.
He nursed the drink, returning to his desk to review the casualty and damage reports. Any hope for an offensive to smash straight through to Earth and end this war was now lost, at least for the next year. It was again back to a bloody stalemate. Perhaps he could organize some form of a raid straight into the heart of the Confederation the same way they had done it. The Baron was right on that; they had to more closely study their enemy to learn how he thinks. That was evident in how he twice misjudged his opponent’s intentions in battle.
Yes, the Baron was right, as he almost always was on all things. That was why he was willing to listen, and that was why he feared him as well.
“You damn fool, I should bust you straight out of the service.”
Admiral Tolwyn stood defiant in the middle of Banbridge’s wardroom, a thin smile creasing his features.
“Without my knowledge or approval you jump out, abandoning the mop-up after Vukar. You haul your butt straight into the guts of the Kilrathi system, placing a carrier at risk. Damn it, man, you are insane.”
“When we picked up that coded Kilrathi signal with the information that Tarawa had gone through jump point One-F, it was obvious that he had to come out at Jugara and I knew I could get there at about the same time—if I moved at once—and help pull them out. There wasn’t any time to check with you Wayne. Your commlinks were all shot to hell from the battle.”
“Don’t give me that bull,” Banbridge snapped. He stood up and came around from behind his desk, coming up to Tolwyn and putting a finger into his face.
“We won Vukar by the skin of our teeth. We lost the Trafalgar, and Gettysburg will be in dry dock for a year. That just leaves Wolfhound and Concordia for this entire sector and you take half of our assets and go gallivanting off. Damn it, man, you almost took our victory and turned it into a disaster.”
“But I didn’t lose Concordia, and I did get Tarawa out,” Tolwyn said quietly.
Banbridge, his features beet-red, turned away.
“You’re a loose cannon, Geof.”
“But you can’t argue with success, Wayne. We’ve dealt out a victory that reversed the tide of this war, at least for the moment. Vukar was brilliant; we took down six carriers—though I doubt that sixth kill claim—crippled another, destroyed at least four imperial legions, along with twenty other ships, a dozen or more transports and support vessels, for one carrier lost, one seriously damaged, and seven escorts.” Then he paused. “And ninety-six good pilots. You did a hell of job out there.”
“Don’t try and kiss my butt out of your troubles, mister.”
Geof laughed and shook his head.