dy of this war and the  conspiracy
of a number of people to keep it going."
     "Say,  I  like these mugs up  here," the woman who had  been talking to
Jason announced,  going up  to  the  wall and taking one down.  The bar went
silent.
     "Especially the ones with the gold handle. How can I get one?"
     "You  get  killed in action,  that's how. Gallagher gilds the handle of
the mug when he  hears that the owner  bought a  permanent piece  of space,"
Jason said quietly, and the  woman looked  at him wide eyed and then  turned
pale.
     "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know."
     "That's all right," Jason replied softly.
     She came back to Torg's side.
     "Dave, maybe we should go."
     "Just a minute, Lisa."
     Come on, I think we've interfered enough here." Torg ignored her.
     "Listen, pilot, I think I  know a bit more about the complexity of this
than you do. As a  professor it's been my  job to  study and interpret these
types  of issues," Torg said.  "Just because you  got a service pin  doesn't
mean you own the Confederation. Remember the war's  over, friend, so get off
the taxpayers back, get a real job, and get a life."
     Several  chairs  were kicked  over  and Jason  held  up his hand as  if
signaling his friends not to do anything.
     "Listen, buddy," Jason  replied. "You heard what Kirha said. This whole
thing is  a  sham.  The Baron's  talking  us into laying  our  necks  on the
chopping block and  he'll be back with  the axe. In fact I think some people
in this government are so stupid they're even  helping him sharpen the blade
and drawing the line on our necks for us, and you'll be there to help them.
     "Are you saying that President Rodham and I are traitors?"
     "No, just stupid."
     "If  there's  a  traitor  around it's you  and  people like you,"  Torg
snapped. "It's time to shut the hell up and get behind the government. Those
who disagree now with Rodham are traitors.
     "I was never behind our government," Jason replied. "I was out in front
of it, laying my hide on the line. Maybe you people back here on Earth  have
forgotten what a real gut-busting war is all about.  Yeah, you've  paid your
taxes for it, bought your war bonds, and lord knows sent enough of your sons
and daughters off to die in it.
     "You're damn straight," Torg replied, "my  wife's brother got killed in
it, and more than one of my students, and for what?"
     "For  what? Listen, buddy, out  on the frontier, on the colonial worlds
we damn well knew for what. We saw it up front and up close. We knew that if
the Kilrathi  ever got  through the thin  line of fighters and  carriers our
worlds could be scorched to  a  cinder. I saw enough worlds like  that.  You
folks back here on Earth maybe have forgotten that."
     "Not  all of us," Elaine  interjected. "I want  peace, and  I'd like to
believe the Baron, but I can understand what you're saying, Captain."
     "It's Jason."
     She  smiled and Jason could sense Torg bristling  that  someone in  his
entourage was siding with the enemy.
     "Then  if you  want war so damn much, why are you  drinking  with  this
Kilrathi?"
     Jason started to laugh.
     "You just don't get it, do you?"
     "Listen, doc," a pilot said, coming up to join the argument. "If  I had
met this Kilrathi in a fight,  him and me out there in the middle of it, I'd
have killed  him without a second thought  and I bet he'd have done the same
to me."
     Kirha grinned and nodded.
     "But  that's  my duty and it was his duty. I can hate his Empire, I can
hate what it does, but I can tell you this, at least the Cats serving in the
fleet, the pilots the  crews of the ships usually fought honorably. Imperial
legion assault troops, now they're a  different breed, but not him, at least
I hope not."
     "I was with the fleet," Kirha announced proudly.
     The pilot nodded.
     "And I respect him. At least he shared the same things I did, the fear,
the months  of waiting,  the moments of  sheer terror. I have more in common
with him than I do  with armchair philosophers like  you who think you  know
about war. You professor types kill me. You think just because you get  that
Ph.D. you're God almighty and everyone  is  supposed  to  kneel and call you
doctor.  Some  of the  biggest  fools  I  ever  met when it came  to war and
politics  I usually found back in  the classrooms. You fill  your  students'
minds with a  bunch  of crap  about a  world you don't even  understand. You
don't  have a clue as to  just how nasty  the real universe is, and then you
attack those  who  are protecting you from the darkness that would rip  your
guts out if it had the chance."
     "You're just another ignorant military brute," Torg sneered.
     The pilot snapped.
     "I spent  four years  at  the Fleet  Academy and six years in  advanced
training. I have the equal of a doctorate in aerospace  engineering and nine
years of combat tours," the pilot  snapped. "As for this Kirha, I'll buy him
a drink anytime. As for you,  the damn thing is I'll die defending  you when
this war starts again, and that kind of makes me want to puke right now."
     Torg hesitated for a second, unable to reply.
     "Let's get out of here,"  Torg finally announced, looking back  to  his
friends. "There's just no sense in arguing with people like this."
     "What do you mean people like this?" Ian interjected.
     "You know what I mean."
     "No, enlighten me."
     "War mongers, that's what you are. You  get your kicks out  of it,  and
then  live high  on the hog, taking your hundred  a week pension out of  the
taxpayers like me. If I had my way, we'd have ended  this war years ago  and
then spent the money  for things that really count and not  waste it on your
high tech war toys that are good for nothing but killing."
     "I  thought freedom was worth  something," Doomsday interjected "Enough
of my friends died for it. Enough of my friends died so you  could come here
and  play tourist and  speak your piece. That's the problem with people like
you. You forget all  too  quickly just how expensive  freedom really is  and
then curse at the very  people who  gave it to you.  No  wonder  I'm  always
depressed," and he turned away.
     "Now I  know  where  I've  heard  your  name,"  Torg snapped,  ignoring
Doomsday and  looking back at Jason. "It wasn't that holo movie,  it's  that
you're  one of  Admiral Tolwyn's  hangers-on. He's just the type I'm talking
about and he  got exactly what he deserved. In fact I agree  with the Baron,
he should have been executed."
     Even as he finished speaking he realized he had overstepped his bounds.
Jason stood  up and Ian put out  his hand to restrain  him. The bar  went as
silent as a tomb.
     Torg backed away a step.
     "Come on, let's get out of here," he  snapped,  trying  to  exit with a
display of bravado and contempt and failing miserably.
     "He turned  and headed for the door and then looked back nervously over
his shoulder.
     "Elaine."
     "Go on, Torg, just get out of here. Haven't you done enough already?"
     Torg quickly went out  the  door and then started talking loudly again,
denouncing Tolwyn and the military to his followers.
     Jason turned back to the bar as Elaine came up to his side.
     "I'm sorry, Jason."
     "Why don't  you just go, he whispered,  trying to control the anger  in
his voice.
     "Jason," and she touched him on the shoulder.
     He looked over at her, shrugging his shoulder so that she drew her hand
away.
     "He's a jerk," she said
     "I'd call him something else," Kirha said, and she smiled.
     "Listen, Jason. There's always some people like him around."
     "Well, he sure seemed like one of your friends."
     She laughed softly.
     "Like hell.  He's a professor on some stupid committee  that's supposed
to look  at turning over some of the bases here on the moon to civilian use.
I'm up here on assignment to cover it."
     "A reporter?"
     "Yeah,  a writer of sorts,  my magazine wants me to do  a story on  the
project. That's how I wound up with him this afternoon."
     "Oh great, another member of the press," Doomsday mumbled.
     She laughed
     "We're  not  all idiots,"  she replied, "and what you  heard  from Torg
isn't what most  people think.  Sure, we want peace, but most  of us, myself
included, are still suspicious of this whole thing. And  I'll tell you this,
you might have your idiots  like Torg ranting and  raving on some campus and
boring the  hell  out of his  students but he's  a  joke to anyone with real
sense. Nine out of ten people are damn proud of you. My older brother put in
two tours with the Marines  till he  got invalided out and I'm proud of him.
Ordinary folks aren't big on talking about it, but they feel it inside," and
as she spoke tears came to her eyes.
     "Well, the way the papers and holo stations report it,  it doesn't seem
that way," Jason said
     "You know and I  know the full story never really gets told, and didn't
your mother ever tell you don't believe everything you read?"
     He laughed softly.
     "As a matter of fact, she did."
     Elaine smiled.
     "Look, I've got  to go," she said and then fumbled in the bag  over her
shoulder. She pulled out a  card, scribbled a  number on the back  of it and
handed it to him.
     "That's my phone number while I'm out on assignment, and the  card's my
business office. I'll be up here for a couple of more days, maybe we can get
together for a drink."
     "I'd make a great story, is that it? Ex-hero, what is he doing now?"
     "Don't be so defensive," she said quietly. "It's not that at all."
     "A pick up then, is that it?"
     "You wish," she laughed. "No, just being  a  friend.  That  jerk really
embarrassed me. Most all of us are  damned grateful for what  all of you did
in the war. A lot of us lost people we know. If we're buying the peace thing
its because we  just want the damn thing  to  stop. The offer's just being a
friend, nothing more."
     She looked at him and smiled.
     "Honestly."
     "You  know we  want it  to end too," Jason replied, "but  we want it to
stop after we know it's really over, and that we or our kids  after us don't
have to go back out and fight it all over again.'
     She nodded in reply.
     "Just a friendly  gesture on  my  part,  no strings  attached. OK?" She
extended her hand.
     "OK," and he smiled softly.
     She  shook his hand  and turned to leave and then hesitated, looking up
at Kirha.
     "So you really think its a trap?"
     Kirha nodded.
     She sighed and left the bar.
     Shaking his head Jason watched as she headed out into the main corridor
and  disappeared  around the  corner.  He had  to  admit she  certainly  was
attractive,  he always did have a thing for very slender brunettes. But then
the flash memory of Svetlana hit  him and all the old  pain came back again.
He  folded her card up and pushed  it under the coaster  for  his  beer. The
whole thing with Svetlana was still too close for him to want to even make a
try at getting involved again.
     "Think what that professor guy said is for real?" the bartender asked
     "If  so  you'd  better  learn how to  serve Vak'qu, because many of  my
former comrades will be drinking in this place once  the next  war is over,"
Kirha growled.
     "What the hell is that?"
     "It makes what you call single malt scotch look like bak."
     "Bak?"
     Kirha and Ian laughed
     "It  has something to do  with old diapers, Ian cut in. "Let's just say
Vak'qu will burn a hole right through durasteel."
     "Hey, look what  just  dragged in," Doomsday announced and to the shock
of everyone he leaped from  his seat and went  up to  greet a  short, almost
baby-faced pilot coming through the door.
     "Lone Wolf Tolwyn," Jason  shouted and  went up  to join  Doomsday in a
round of backslapping.
     At the name Tolwyn the other pilots and ex-service crowd in the bar got
up and gathered around him.
     "How's the old man taking it?" and the question  was shouted a dozen or
more times as Kevin made his  way up to the bar and  allowed Doomsday to buy
his "old life saving buddy," a drink.
     "It's been tough on him," Kevin announced quietly. "He's retired to the
family  estate  out  on  the Shetland Islands.  At least out there the press
can't get at him."
     Kevin  chatted  with  the crowd  for several  minutes  and then  caught
Jason's eye and motioned for him to break away from the group.
     As  they moved away Kevin nodded for Doomsday and Ian to join them in a
corner of the  bar. Settling down around a table which was covered  from one
end  to  the  other with carved initials and squadron insignia  Kevin looked
around at his old comrades and smiled.
     "My uncle  sent me up here on  a little, how shall  I  say,  recruiting
expedition."
     "For what?" Jason asked.
     "I  can't  tell you, because I don't even really know myself, but  he's
been calling in a  lot of his  old  comrades and  personnel to stop  by  his
estate for  a visit. He sent me out to round up some  of  you hanging around
out here at the  old base. Would you  three be willing to drop down to Earth
for a day or two?"
     "Anything the old man wants," Ian said.
     Kevin smiled.
     "There's a shuttle  leaving in  three hours and  I  took the liberty of
booking some  seats on it for you and a couple other people I'm looking for.
Transfer over to the London shuttle once you  get to Earth orbit. Touch down
and head  to gate 443, there'll be  a ground  hop waiting for you  there.  I
don't think I need  to tell you that this  little trip is very  private,  so
lets keep a secure lid on it."
     Ian suddenly frowned and looked back to the bar where Kirha was looking
over expectantly at him.
     "Got a  problem,"  Ian said  quietly and motioned to where his Kilrathi
friend was sitting.
     "What about him?"
     Kevin looked over at Kirha and smiled sadly.
     "My uncle said that poor Cat might try and look you up. I'm sorry, Ian,
security is just too tight on this."
     Ian nodded sadly.
     "Look, let's do it this way," Jason interjected. "Your family still has
that farm back in Australia. Send him there until  we finish up  whatever it
is the Admiral wants."
     Ian smiled and then reached into his wallet and pulled it out.
     Doomsday, Kevin, and Jason,  seeing the dilapidated  condition of Ian's
wallet and overall financial condition pulled out what money they had.
     "That ought to be enough to buy him a ticket. Thanks, lads."
     "Look, he can take one of my seats down to London, and then you can fly
him to Australia from there. I'll get in contact with my uncle and make sure
someone meets us at the shuttle port to take him out."
     Ian nodded his thanks.
     Kevin smiled and shook hands around the table.
     "I'll see you at Windward."


        CHAPTER FOUR

     As the London shuttle turned on final Jason found that he had to nearly
fight  with  Kirha  for a look out the window. Though he  had spent  a  year
Earthside while Tarawa was going through refit, he had never had a chance to
get to London. He was seeing precious little of it now as Kirha kept leaning
over him to look out the window.
     "Ah boys, it'll be good to hear real kings English spoken  as it should
be," Ian said.
     "Hell, you're from Australia," Doomsday replied.
     "Once  part of  the same glorious  Empire.  Look, there's  Westminster,
beyond that the Tower of London."
     "I read they  used to cut heads off  at the  Tower,"  Kirha said with a
note of admiration in his voice.
     "We kind of gave up the sport," Ian replied.
     "Too bad, I'd have  liked  to have seen the ceremony. You know it still
amazes me how you humans could beat the Empire to a standstill."
     "How's  that?" Jason asked, finally relinquishing the window  to  Kirha
and settling back in his chair.
     "I always thought that you were rather soft, not a warrior's breed,  no
claws, no fangs, no thrill at the sight and smell of blood."
     "We still get by when we have to," Doomsday said.
     "Yes, I know, most curious."
     The shuttle banked over on to final approach and Jason closed his eyes,
the turning and decelerating of the shuttle  giving him a  nostalgic longing
to be  in a  cockpit again. The shuttle touched down  smoothly and taxied to
its gate.
     When the hatch was popped the warm damp air of London filtered into the
cab and Kirha wrinkled his nose.
     "How do you breathe this? It's like inhaling water."
     "You should try  it when a spring fog rolls in," Ian replied.  The four
travelers pulled their  duffle  bags down from the overhead compartments and
went through the access tunnel into the main terminal. Kirha was, of course,
immediately  noticed.  The basic reaction, which was typical of most  people
from a  metropolitan  area, was  to  act  as if  he wasn't there, except for
lingering sidelong  stares. Several  people  displayed  open hostility,  and
Jason  was embarrassed  when an elderly man  came  up and  spit  in front of
Kirha, cursing all Kilrathi for killing his family.
     Kirha, displaying  a  remarkable  degree  of  tact,  bowed  to the man,
offered  an apology  and  then  continued  on.  As they walked down the main
corridor  of  the  shuttleport  they  passed  a booth  displaying  a  banner
announcing that  it was seeking donations for the  Human-Kilrathi Friendship
Society. At  the sight of  Kirha several members came  out  from behind  the
counter and approached him.
     "Ah, friend, so good to see you," one of them gushed.
     Kirha looked at them suspiciously.
     "How can we be friends?  We have not  been introduced, our blood  lines
unknown to each other."
     The man hesitated for a moment and then smiled.
     "Yes,  your ritual of meeting, how clumsy of me."  He bowed low. "I  am
Harrison of the hrai Harrison."
     Kirha  simply looked at him, shook  his  head,  and continued on. Jason
looked over at the booth as  he passed and saw the other members staring  at
him.
     "You'd think they'd take those service pins off  and get back to a real
life," an attractive young  girl whispered, making  sure her voice  was loud
enough so  that Jason could  hear.  He  was  tempted  to say  something  but
realized it was futile and continued on.
     A tall, slender woman with long blonde hair approached the group.
     "Captain Hunter."
     "Why, yes, that's me," Ian said with a grin. "Do we know each other?"
     "No," she said with a mischievous grin lighting her features. "I'm here
to  meet your friend and escort him to your home in Australia.  Everything's
been arranged, we have him registered and security cleared."
     "How about  if we  switch things around," Ian  replied smoothly. "Kirha
can go take care of my business and you can escort me home."
     "Not likely, sir," she said with a laugh. "Better luck next time."
     Ian shook his head and sighed, looking over at Kirha who was  evidently
distressed that his friend was leaving him.
     "I  know  I cannot  ask you  where  you are going  and why," Kirha said
softly, "but I suspect it is dangerous. May Sivar watch  over you and  guide
you through the flowing of blood till we meet again.
     Kirha went to his knees and  Ian looked around embarrassed as he pulled
him back up to his feet and then shyly hugged him
     "Take care, buddy.  I'll see you soon. While you're there, try to learn
some horseback riding, you'd like it."
     "As you command, my lord," Kirha said huskily.
     The blonde  took Kirha  by the arm, looking  a bit nervous, and she led
him down a side corridor. Ian watched them leave looking somewhat wistful.
     "Come on," Doomsday said, "you're  not getting sentimental over  a Cat,
are you?"
     "Well actually it's the blonde," Ian replied, but Jason could tell that
Ian was actually fond of Kirha and hated to see him go.
     "Damn, the sight of a Cat riding a horse," Doomsday said. "I'd pay good
money to see it."
     Walking  to the  far end  of  the  terminal, where  private  craft were
docked,  they  turned down  a side corridor and  reached their gate. A light
Zephyr trans-atmospheric transport was parked outside.
     "Hey, it's Round Top!" Doomsday cried, and he raced up to the pilot and
grabbed hold of his hand.
     "Did you  run  emotional therapy for  that  guy?" Ian asked, watching a
second display of joyful greeting on Doomsdays part in as many days.
     "I guess he got kind of attached to our pups."
     "Like hell  I'm a  pup, sir," Round Top announced,  coming  up to shake
Jason's hand
     "Excuse me, gentlemen."
     Jason  turned and saw a slender gray-haired man,  wearing a simple pair
of flight coveralls, approaching them. He looked vaguely  familiar  and then
he realized that it was Tolwyn's old steward from the Concordia.
     "Johnston, isn't it?" Jason asked, and the man nodded.
     "I think you're the last for this load," Johnston announced. "Why don't
we get aboard?"
     Jason picked his bag back up.
     "And might I  add, gentlemen, that  it'd be best, for now, to drop your
old noms de guerre."
     The group  followed  Johnston  out  the door and  scrambled  aboard the
Zephyr. Johnston secured the rear hatch and went up to the forward controls.
Putting on a headset he called in to the tower for clearance, powered up the
engines, and turned the ship to head for the  runway.  The Zephyr gained the
launch track, did a short fifty-yard roll and then nosed up, soaring up on a
sixty-degree climb.
     Ian looked around the  cabin  and  checked  over  the  half dozen other
passengers  crammed into the small plane and  realized  that several of them
looked familiar.
     "Vanderman from Tiger's  Claw, isn't it?" Ian asked,  and the old pilot
sitting across from him  on the other side of the aisle nodded and shook his
hand.
     "Hell, I thought you bought it when the Claw got it, Vanderman asked.
     "I got transferred  off on a two week furlough  the day  before she got
hit," Ian replied, a flicker of sadness crossing his features at the mention
of his old ship.
     "Luck  of  the draw  I guess," Ian mused, "if it  hadn't  been for  the
furlough I'd have died with the rest of my friends.
     "But what about  you," he asked,  forcing a smile,  "I  saw you go down
over Draga just before we pulled out."
     "I  ejected  and  made  it  down to the surface,  mostly in  one piece.
Stranded for  a couple of  years," Vanderman said, "kind of wild  and woolly
down there, with the carnivores and such."
     "I've heard of them," Ian interjected. "It was a famous hunting reserve
of the Cats and used for the old rites of coming of age."
     "Well, it sure as hell aged me," Vanderman replied,  "dodging the local
denizens and Kilrathi patrols until  a  raiding unit dropped in for  a visit
and I got picked up. I tell you it was an experience."
     With that  he  unbuttoned his  shirt  collar  and pulled out  a  chain.
Dangling from  the end  of it was a gleaming  serrated tooth several  inches
long.
     "I heard the Cats take the tooth of a nalga as a trophy. I got one with
a bow that  I made and hung on  to it, figured if I finally got captured  it
might make me look a bit better in their eyes. Actually I'm kind of attached
to it now."
     "It doesn't  look like  much of a tooth," Ian retorted.  "Why it  ain't
much bigger than my little  finger. Now on  Farnsworth's World there, you'll
get big teeth. I remember . . ."
     "The  owner  of this  little  gem's  got claws bigger  than  your arm,"
Vanderman interrupted, "and you got  your choice out of which of four  heads
to pull the tooth from.
     Ian, knowing he'd get outclassed in a tale swap, fell silent.
     The Zephyr quickly boosted up  on  a high trajectory jump, so that  the
breadth of England, from the Irish to the North Sea was clearly in view.
     The  shuttle reached apogee  over Scotland and then  started  its  long
curving descent  over the North Sea, dropping down  through a  high  bank of
dark clouds. Buffeted by the wind the shuttle bounced in  the turbulence  as
it crossed  over  the cliffs, circled  to kill speed, and  then touched down
hard, kicking on reverse thrusters and jerking to a stop.
     "Welcome to  Windward, gentlemen,"  Johnston  announced  as  he  walked
through the cabin  and unlatched the rear  hatch. "Move  quickly now,  lads,
it's a bit of a blow out there, and besides, the Admiral's waiting."
     As Jason stepped through the doorway the stinging rain lashed into him,
the  wind driving it in almost horizontally. Cursing  he grabbed hold of his
duffel  and  ran towards the dark building  barely visible  in  the  driving
storm. A portal of light showed where  a door was suddenly opened and he ran
for it.
     Sliding  on the wet paving stones he nearly fell on his backside as  he
gained the door and rushed in, almost knocking over the man holding it open.
     "Damn, what a blow," Jason said,  wiping the rain off his face and then
he realized who was holding the door open and snapped to attention.
     "At ease, Jason, remember  we're  no longer in the fleet," and Geoffrey
Tolwyn extended his hand.
     The rest of  the group  came racing  in behind  Jason  and all came  to
attention at the sight of Tolwyn who smiled and shook their hands.
     "Gentlemen, our little meeting  was waiting for your arrival. Would you
follow me?"
     He led them into a semi-darkened library room  and  Jason was surprised
to see real books made of  paper lining  the walls,  something  that had not
been produced in hundreds of years.
     "It's the  treasure of my family," Tolwyn said, "some of the volumes go
back to  an age  when England ruled  most of the  world  before the  time of
flying.  This  house is  nearly as old, and was built in the style of  manor
homes from an even earlier time."
     At the far  end of the library  a fireplace glowed, and again it caught
Jason by surprise. Wood was far too precious on his home world to be used in
such  a manner, but even as he looked at it he understood the strange almost
primal appeal of a fireplace, the smell of burning wood, and the comfortable
feeling it provided.
     Going through  a  wide double doorway, they stepped into  a  broad open
room, at the far end of which was yet another fireplace, this one big enough
to walk into. Dozens of chairs were drawn in a circle around the  fireplace,
each of them already occupied and Jason saw yet more familiar faces.
     "Hey,  it's   Sparks,"   Doomsday  announced   and  the  chief  fighter
maintenance  officer  from the Tarawa got out of  her chair and  came up  to
Doomsday, shaking his hand and then Jason's in turn.
     "It's like  old home week here,"  she  whispered, "pilots, a  couple of
maintenance officers like myself,  ship's computer officers, there's even  a
commodore of a destroyer group over there in the corner."
     "I'd like to get started," Tolwyn announced and he motioned for the new
arrivals to grab some chairs.
     Tolwyn turned  away  for a  moment and extended  his hands to the fire,
rubbing them, silhouetted by the flames and Jason felt a flash memory of the
hangar deck  of  Tarawa on fire. He closed his eyes and pushed  the  thought
aside,  knowing  that it'd be back again tonight, one  of the  worst of  the
recurring nightmares.
     "To start with the  old  familiar line. I  guess you're wondering why I
invited you all here tonight."
     The group laughed politely.
     "We heard about your stockpile of Scotch," Ian quipped.
     "Afterwards, Hunter, but business first."
     The group settled down.
     "It has been  four  weeks since the formal armistice agreement  between
the  Terran  Confederation  and the Kilrathi Empire. Starting  tomorrow, the
peace  commission  starts  its  meetings  to  extend  the armistice  into  a
permanent settlement.
     "All  of us,  especially we who fought so hard, and for so long, prayed
daily for peace; for  only one who fights can truly  know how precious peace
really is."
     He lowered his head for a moment.
     "And all of us know what the price might  be if this peace proves to be
an illusion, which I have feared from the beginning that it really is.
     "What  I'm  about  to  share  with  you  is  level double-A  classified
information.  Though  we  are  no longer  in  the military  I will  invoke a
military regulation regarding this information  which is  that the revealing
of double-A-level  classified  information  in  time  of  war  is a  capital
offense.
     "We  are not þ " he paused " þ  officially at war, but I think that the
level of classification conveys just how sensitive this material is. If this
is something  you feel might be over your  head,  Johnston will  be happy to
lift you back to London and  you'll be  back  in town  in time  to catch the
evening  shows. If you stay,  however,  I expect  a  commitment from  you to
follow through on what I'm going to ask you to do. I called you here because
I trust all of you. I'm asking in turn that you  trust me and  agree to this
beforehand."
     He waited for a minute and no one stirred.
     "Fine, then we understand each other."
     He picked up a small hand controller  off the fireplace mantlepiece and
clicked it. On a side wall a holo projection box hummed to life.
     "The figures you  see up there were only  known at the highest level in
the military  and in the civilian government on  the  day the armistice  was
reached and, according  to counter intelligence,  were also  revealed to the
Kilrathi through an as yet unidentified mole."
     He waited for that bit of information to sink in and then continued.
     "As you  can  see, it shows actual fleet strength. The numbers in black
are ships  that were actively on line, the  blue  numbers were  ships in for
repair or maintenance and the green numbers new ships projected  to join the
fleet within the year.
     He waited for a moment and then clicked the button again.
     "The figures  on the  right side  of the screen show the Kilrathi fleet
size according to the highest level of intelligence and believe me it cost a
hell of a lot of lives to get this information."
     Jason scanned the figures. He knew the situation was bad, but he had no
idea  that the  margin  between Kilrathi and Confederation carriers  was  as
large as indicated. He looked over at Tolwyn and realized yet again just how
much  the  man risked  when  he took  the  Concordia  a  deep into  Kilrathi
territory to pull him out. The figures, however, for light craft, especially
frigate class and transports  were far better, with the Confederation having
a significant lead in heavy transport capability.
     A low murmur  of voices filled  the room as  the group commented on the
figures.
     "Now  I should  add  here, that in terms of quality, our technology  in
fighter  craft was showing some significant edges,  though they still had it
over us in terms  of sheer  numbers and in firepower, which  we  offset with
maneuverability and the ability to take more punishment, especially with our
new upgrades which were just coming on line with the Broadswords and Sabre D
class.
     "But these are the key figures that I want you to take a hard look at."
     He snapped the controller again, and columns of figures in red appeared
alongside the Kilrathi column.
     "Damn, look at that," Ian whispered, and Jason could only nod in reply.
     "As you can see," Tolwyn  announced, "from the day of the armistice and
for  roughly twelve months afterwards not one new fleet carrier was going to
come on  line for  the Empire. Beyond  that, it  appears as if a significant
portion  of their carrier fleet  needed to  be  pulled off  line  for  major
overhauls and refitting."
     He paused for a moment
     "This crippling of their carrier construction  is  thanks  in part to a
rather neat job by  one of  those present here tonight,"  and Jason nodded a
thanks,  but wanted to say that  it wasn't him, but  rather the nearly  four
hundred  Marine  raiders who gave  their lives  destroying the  construction
yards on Kilrah's moon that made the difference.
     "Six carriers nearing completion were destroyed in  the Tarawa raid and
even more importantly their key personnel and construction equipment went up
as  well.  Intelligence later  ascertained  that  a high  level  design  and
engineering team was visiting the moon  on the  day the raid hit, wiping out
some of their top brains. Tarawa also showed us a  viable tactic for getting
at the Kilrathi. You might recall that CVEs Enigma and Khorsan were reported
lost, but no details were  ever revealed for security reasons.  The truth is
that  both light  carriers  were  sent on deep penetration raids  on carrier
construction  sites  located in the Za'kathag  region,  killing three  heavy
carriers  that were  still  being fitted out. Seven more construction  sites
were destroyed by other means that I'm not at liberty to discuss and in fact
I'm not even supposed to know."
     He  turned away for a moment and reaching over to  a wood bin he tossed
another log on the fire and then looked back at the group.
     "In other words, we had a window of opportunity  which was  starting to
kick in and would have lasted for roughly six months to a year.  For a brief
period  we would  have, for  the first  time in the  war, reached front line
parity in terms of carrier strength and then  the numbers would turn against
us yet  again. We might have been able  to  push  them to  the wall, though,
during that time."
     He sighed with frustration and lowered his head for a moment.
     "Sir?'
     He looked back up.
     "Go ahead, Ian."
     "Just how reliable are these figures?"
     "I can ót really tell you how we  got them, but they're  hard core. But
now  for  the tough part,  the classified  information that only  a  handful
really know about.
     We suspect that the Kilrathi went  for this  armistice for two reasons,
the  first  the operational concerns created  by their  crisis  in transport
capability, the destruction  of  heavy ship yards and  the stand  down of at
least half  their carriers for refit. If that alone was their reason  behind
the armistice, it would be bad enough. There is, however, the second issue."
     He paused a moment for effect and the room was deadly still, except for
the crackling of the fire.
     "We  have  reason  to  believe  that  approximately five years  ago the
Kilrathi started the secret assembly of a major construction yard outside of
their Empire's territory and at this  site they  are building an entire  new
class  of ships.  If  this is  true, we can expect that when  the  fleet  is
completed, it might be used to launch a preemptive and  smashing blow to end
the war in their  favor. The key question concerning  this is if indeed this
fleet is real. If it is real and nearing  completion, do the Kilrathi intend
to  use it to launch a  preemptive strike  while we  stand down  due  to the
armistice?"
     óWhat kind of ships and where?"  a commodore asked from the back of the
room.
     "It's called the Hari," a voice announced from the corner of the room.
     "Paladin, damn me, I thought  you got killed,"  Ian shouted, coming  to
his feet and running up to embrace his old friend.
     "As usual, laddie, the reports of my death are a bit premature."
     The  group  roared with delight  as the old pilot  came up  to stand by
Tolwyn.
     "How  the hell  did you get out of that last scrape?" Ian  asked. "They
said you were reported long overdue and presumed dead. Hell, man, you owe me
a  drink ócause  I bought a round at the Vacuum Breathers in your honor. Old
Gallagher even gilded your mug."
     "It's a wee bit tied up in all of this here talk the Admiral's giving."
     "So what's this Hari?" Doomsday grumbled.
     "The Hari Empire," Tolwyn said, "once  existed in what was the realm of
space on the other side of the Kilrathi Empire in relation  to us. More than
two hundred  of our  years before we  first made contact with  the Kilrathi,
they  fought  a war with  the Hari and annihilated them. So bitter  was  the
struggle  that the  Hari, in  their pride  refused  surrender and  committed
suicide."
     "All of them?" Sparks asked.
     "That's what we've been told by prisoners," Tolwyn said. "It  is a vast
empty reach  of space,  a good thirty jump points  out from Kilrah. The Hari
never  knew  of the jump points, and traveled at speeds  slower  than light.
They made great ships that could journey  between  worlds in trips that took
lifetimes. When  they found a world with  resources they multiplied quickly,
in a hive-like  manner. They quite literally  wrecked the planet's biosphere
with overpopulation and exploitation of every resource they could find. When
the planet was used  up, selected  members were loaded back aboard their ark
ships and moved on, leaving  the rest to die. Thus there was little on their
worlds worth  the taking, the  planets they  occupied nothing but mined over
and scarred barren wastelands when they were finished.
     "It's believed that the Kilrathi moved some of their  ship construction
deep into Hari territory  and for  at  least  the last four years have  been
working on a secret  project. This information comes from bits and pieces of
a puzzle, made up of thousands of  little details we've found over the years
þ  a  captured shipping  report,  a stray transmission  coming from where it
wasn't  supposed  to.  In  part  this  might  explain the  anomaly  of their
transport  shortage which appeared  to  be even more acute than  our figures
suggested, since  part of their transport  fleet appears to  be committed to
hauling  material out into  Hari territory for  the building of this  secret
fleet."
     "Look, sir, if this  is the case, then what the hell is  our government
doing?"  Round  Top  snarled.  "What  you're telling us is that the Kilrathi
called an armistice to get over a potential gap in numbers, and once they've
closed  it and  gotten ahead and get this new fleet ready, they'll come  out
kicking."
     "Prove It," Paladin said quietly, "that's the  problem. All I can  tell
you is, getting into Hari territory reminds me of this lass I  once knew who
was so . . ." He looked at the females in the audience and stopped.
     "As  I was saying,  it's impossible and believe me, I know. You have to
cross  all of Kilrathi space, hit into transit jumps that we don't even have
charts for, and then go a good thousand light years beyond. I think its fair
to assume that  this here system is wired with security from one end to  the
other.  We might be  able to put  a  concealed Kilrathi  transport or trader
inside their own  territory when there's a war on  and a lot  of traffic  to
blend in  with, but out there, it's military  security  all the  way in  and
out."
     He hesitated for a moment.
     "Believe me, I know,"  he said softly as if recalling a nightmare  that
still troubled him.
     "So how do  we  know about this  then?"  Ian  asked. "We  might just be
chasing shadows, our own fears and nothing more."
     "That I cannot say either," Paladin replied. "Not even the Admiral here
is cleared to know some of it,  and remember, I worked for  him before, same
as you, laddie. All I can say is, the information  is good, and a lot of our
friends, who are listed as missing, in fact died to find out."
     "Well, doesn't the civilian government know this?"
     Tolwyn blew out noisily and nodded.
     "A  week before  the armistice was  agreed to, there was a meeting with
Rodham,  Foreign Minister  Jamison  and the Chiefs of Staff. The information
was  presented   and  Jamison  said  that  it  was  unconfirmed,   that  the
intelligence community and military  were conspiring  to keep  the war going
and  as much as called the  Chiefs of Staff a bunch of liars. Rodham finally
sided with  Jamison, saying that at best it was rumor, and there were always
such rumors that could keep a war going, countering with the statement  that
Jukaga had claimed the same thing was being done by us."
     "So  they  accuse us  of  it, and  that balances it  out, is  that it?"
Vanderman asked.
     "That's about  it," Tolwyn replied. "I'd have to  add that Jamison does
have the weight of history on her side.  In the past, in the old Earth wars,
there  were  always such charges of  secret  bases and construction sites or
hidden redoubts. They usually  proved to be false," he  paused, "but then on
occasion they proved to be true."
     Tolwyn paused,  realizing he could  say no more in front of this group,
for in fact the Confederation did have several secret projects in the works.
Jukaga's accusation had caused a flurry of concern on the part of the Chiefs
of Staff and intellige