"But everything's changed — or has it?" Skyla waited patiently.
Nyklos didn't budge. "You tell me. What are the final goals of the Companions? Domination of Free Space?"
Skyla steepled her fingers. "What if the Companions did exactly that — crushed the Regans, and wheeled in a lightning blow and broke the back of the Sassan Empire? What would your reaction be?"
Nyklos twisted the end of his mustache with pensive fingers. "That would depend on Staffa. What happened, Skyla? Why did the Lord Commander — the man with a conscience like Terguzzi ice — suddenly slip away to Etarus to be mugged in an alley, convicted of murder, and condemned to the collar. What happened to him out there in that desert? The man who jumped into my aircar wasn't the arrogant Lord Commander I'd studied for years. Tell me, Skyla, give me the best information you can, because a lot could hinge on what I report to Bruen."
The chime rang, and Skyla stood long enough to pull the steaming trays from the dispenser. She slipped into the seat again and faced Nyklos over her
tray. "That's a little onesided, don't you think? I divulge information on the Lord Commander of the Companions, and what do I get in return? You're not exactly a trusted confidant, Nyklos."
He stared soberly into the donna that sent delightful smells into the air before nodding. "All right, here's why I want to know. If something happened to Staffa, something that changed his personality, it could have a dramatic effect on Seddi relationships with the Companions."
"We don't need you," Skyla reminded.
Nyklos leaned back and crossed his arms. "That depends, Wing Commander. If your goal is the final conquest of Free Space, what next? Is it the Lord Commander's plan to become the despot he's always resembled? If so, yours will be one of the shortest-lived empires ever. Oh, we've run the projections. Staffa's lack of humanity will bring about his demise in short order. He's a conqueror — a man who breaks, not builds."
"So you wait us out."
Nyklos shook his head. "It's not that simple. What do you know about systems analysis?"
"Enough."
"Then you know that humanity mght be able to survive one more war — the one that unifies Free Space. But the holocaust that a revolution against the Star Butcher would set loose? We've run the predictions over and over and the results are the same — extinction on worlds like Sylene and Terguz and Formosa. Some enclaves of humans will proba bly survive in places like Targa, Sassa, and Rega, but the natural resources have been so depleted that civilization will never arise again. Those people will be condemned to live as subsistence farmers among the ruins."
"Assuming your model is correct."
The expression on his face didn't change. "We'll give you the data. Check it, run it any way you like."
"Then why not simply assassinate Staffa and myself, hope the Companions fall apart, and that Rega and Sassa can slug it out for the remains."
"To the Seddi, the idea of living under a Regan or Sassan
government is only slightly more acceptable than being under the heel of the Star Butcher."
"And your interest in Staffa?"
"He's the key to Free Space. Tell me, Skyla, what happened to send him running to Etaria and disaster? Why would he do something so dumb? He blew every projection we had. "
"Staffa wanted to learn what it was to be human, Nyklos. "
The Seddi operative sank slowly back into the seat. "In that case, he got a belly full. He's probably in for more trouble when he arrives on Targa."
"Seddi treachery?"
"No, Magister Bruen gave his word, but I do know the war on Targa is getting pretty vicious."
Sampson Henck, First of the Twenty-seventh Maikan Assault Division, shook his head as he stared at the situation board where it dominated one wall of the commandeered headquarters building in the center of Kaspa. Fifty years of career service had given him a cynical squint. He liked to consider the Twenty-seventh Maikan as one of the pillars of the Regan military establishment. The fact that it hadn't been deactivated after the Maikan conquest was proof of its worth to Henck. Now he rubbed his jaw as he studied the board, trying to get a handle on the means of destroying his fleeing foe with the most economic and efficient means.
Lights marking troop positions moved through the warehouse district where the Fourth Section ran in support of their point Group. Pustulant rot, chasing the miserable Targans had pulled his people half out of town! Ashtan prairie goats ran slower!
Henck growled to himself as he paced over to the window to stare out at Kaspa. "What the hell are they doing? These renegades act like they don't have the intelligence the Blessed Gods gave to a rock! They just shoot… and when they draw a response, they run. Where's the sense in that? It's lunacy!"
"Attention Fourth Section. We have a Group drawing
fire five blocks ahead of you. Move out and support!" the Staff Second ordered where he listened to the comm. chatter.
"I don't understand." Henck pointed to the map of Kaspa. "What possible purpose could they have in trying to take that industrial district? It's strategically indefensible. All we have to do is send a Section in after them, and they're
out-further from the center of town than before!"
"Sir, suppose we let them have it?" His Staff Second glanced nervously at him. "Every time we react to their attacks, we find only a Group or so, all fleeing through the streets. Like you said, there's no rhyme or reason to it. They can't tie up our Sections for more than a short firefight-they don't have the strength. Besides, we've chased them clear out of the city. We control all the territory between our Group perimeter and the headquarters compound."
Henck fingered his throat. "So it would seem. To threaten us now, they'd have to mount a major offensive to roll our forces back; and with orbital recon, we know for a fact they don't have a Division out there hiding in the hills." And that's what it would take to recapture this city. A bloodrotted Division. He made his decision. "Sure, it's a meaningless exercise, but have the Fourth drive them out of those warehouses. What the Rotted hell, the exercise will do them good. "
"Yes, sir." The Staff Second turned to his comm. "Section First Paulus? You'll order your Section to clean out that warehouse area."
Henck grinned to himself as he stared up at the situation board. The rebellious Targans were scurrying like Riparian salamanders. Demoralized and dispirited, his troops need only corral the treasonous bastards before shipping them back to Rega for trial. "Kaspa is ours."
"Yes, sir."
"Hectic there for a bit, though, shuffling Sections and Groups back and forth like a tapa game. They could have cut us to pieces more than once had they had the firepower and personnel. "
"They still hurt us too badly," the Staff Second reminded as he logged the commands into the master book. "For as disorganized as their Groups seem to be, we took too many casualties. "
The Staff Second frowned as he tapped a stylus against the comm casing. "You know, the other bothersome thing,
is that we had to counter their Groups with full Sections. On a Group to Group basis, they shot the dripping pus out of us! Broke every defensive formation. How did they do that?"
First Henck tugged at his earlobe as he glared at the situation board. His entire Division had been spread out until it resembled a thin ring around the outskirts of town. A nagging worry made him suck at his lower lip. "I don't like this. They don't have air capabilities to match ours. but we might want to bring some of our strength back to support—"
A violent explosion battered the headquarters compound. Gravity flux shook the building with enough force to pitch Henck to the floor.